'We must ask your pardon for disturbing you,' he said to Mouret. 'We have just left Abbé Bourrette's; he, no doubt, gave you notice of our coming!'
'Not at all!' Mouret exclaimed. 'The Abbé never behaves like other people. He always seems as though he had just come down from paradise. Only this morning, sir, he told me that you would not be here for another couple of days. Well, we must put you in possession of your rooms all the same.'
Abbé Faujas apologised. He spoke6 in a deep voice which fell very softly at the end of each sentence. He was extremely distressed7, said he, to have arrived at such a moment. And when he had expressed his regret in a very few well-chosen words, he turned round to pay the porter who had brought his trunk. His large well-shaped hands drew from the folds of his cassock a purse of which only the steel rings could be seen. Keeping his head bent8, he cautiously fumbled9 in it for a moment. Then, without anyone having[Pg 9] seen the piece of money which he had received, the porter went away, and the priest resumed in his refined way:
'I beg you, sir, sit down again. Your servant will show us the rooms, and will help me to carry this.'
As he spoke, he stooped to grasp one of the handles of his trunk. It was a small wooden trunk, bound at the edges with iron bands, and one of its sides seemed to have been repaired with a cross-piece of deal. Mouret looked surprised, and his eyes wandered off in search of other luggage, but he could see nothing excepting a big basket, which the elderly lady carried with both hands, holding it in front of her, and despite her fatigue10 obstinately11 determined12 not to put it down. From underneath13 the lid, which was a little raised, there peeped, amongst some bundles of linen14, the end of a comb wrapped in paper and the neck of a clumsily corked15 bottle.
'Oh! don't trouble yourself with that,' said Mouret, just touching16 the trunk with his foot; 'it can't be very heavy, and Rose will be able to carry it up by herself.'
He was quite unconscious of the secret contempt which oozed17 out from his words. The elderly lady gave him a keen glance with her black eyes, and then let her gaze again fall upon the dining-room and the table, which she had been examining ever since her arrival. She kept her lips tightly compressed, while her eyes strayed from one object to another. She had not uttered a single word. Abbé Faujas consented to leave his trunk where it was. In the yellow rays of the sunlight which streamed in from the garden, his threadbare cassock looked quite ruddy; it was darned at the edges; and, though it was scrupulously18 clean, it seemed so sadly thin and wretched that Marthe, who had hitherto remained seated with a sort of uneasy reserve, now in her turn rose from her seat. The Abbé, who had merely cast a rapid glance at her, and had then quickly turned his eyes elsewhere, saw her leave her chair, although he did not appear to be watching her.
'I beg you,' he repeated, 'do not disturb yourselves. We should be extremely distressed to interfere20 with your dinner.'
'Very well,' said Mouret, who was hungry, 'Rose shall show you up. Tell her to get you anything you want, and make yourselves at home.'
Abbé Faujas bowed and was making his way to the staircase, when Marthe stepped up to her husband and whispered:
[Pg 10]
'But, my dear, you have forgotten——'
'What? what?' he asked, seeing her hesitate.
'There is the fruit, you know.'
'Oh! bother it all, so there is!' he exclaimed with an expression of annoyance.
And as Abbé Faujas stepped back and glanced at him questioningly, he added:
'I am extremely vexed21, sir. Father Bourrette is a very worthy22 man, but it is a little unfortunate that you commissioned him to attend to your business. He hasn't got the least bit of a head. If we had only known of your coming, we should have had everything ready; but, as it is, we shall have to clear the whole place out for you. We have been using the rooms, you see; we have stowed all our crop of fruit, figs23, apples and raisins24, away on the floors upstairs.'
The priest listened with a surprise which all his politeness did not enable him to hide.
'But it won't take us long,' Mouret continued. 'If you don't mind waiting for ten minutes, Rose will get the rooms cleared for you.'
An anxious expression appeared on the priest's cadaverous face.
'The rooms are furnished, are they not?' he asked.
'Not at all; there isn't a bit of furniture in them. We have never occupied them.'
Thereupon the Abbé lost his self-control, and his grey eyes flashed as he exclaimed with suppressed indignation:
'But I gave distinct instructions in my letter that furnished rooms were to be taken. I could scarcely bring my furniture along with me in my trunk.'
'Well, that just fits in with what I have been saying!' cried Mouret, in a louder voice. 'The way that Bourrette goes on is quite incredible. He certainly saw the apples when he came to look at the rooms, sir, for he took up one of them and remarked that he had rarely seen such fine fruit. He said that everything seemed quite suitable, that the rooms were all that was necessary, and he took them.'
Abbé Faujas was no longer listening to Mouret; his cheeks were flushed with anger. He turned round and stammered25 in a broken voice:
'Do you hear, mother? There is no furniture.'
The old lady, with her thin black shawl drawn26 tightly round her, had just been inspecting the ground-floor, stepping[Pg 11] furtively27 hither and thither28, but without once putting down her basket. She had gone to the door of the kitchen and had scrutinised the four walls there, and then, standing29 on the steps that overlooked the terrace, she had taken in all the garden at one long, searching glance. But it was the dining-room that seemed more especially to interest her, and she was now again standing in front of the table laid for dinner, watching the steam of the soup rise, when her son repeated:
'Do you hear, mother? We shall have to go to the hotel.'
She raised her head without making any reply; but the expression of her whole face seemed to indicate a settled determination to remain in that house, with whose every corner she had already made herself acquainted. She shrugged30 her shoulders almost imperceptibly, and again her wandering eyes strayed from the kitchen to the garden and then from the garden to the dining-room.
Mouret, however, was growing impatient. As he saw that neither the mother nor her son seemed to make up their minds to leave the place, he said:
'We have no beds, unfortunately. True, there is, in the loft31, a folding-bedstead, which perhaps, at a pinch, madame might make do until to-morrow. But I really don't know how Monsieur l'Abbé is to manage to sleep.'
Then at last Madame Faujas opened her lips. She spoke in a curt32 and somewhat hoarse33 voice:
'My son will take the folding-bedstead. A mattress34 on the floor, in a corner, will be quite sufficient for me.'
The Abbé signified his approval of this arrangement by a nod. Mouret was going to protest and try to think of some other plan, but, seeing the satisfied appearance of his new tenants35, he kept silence and merely exchanged a glance of astonishment36 with his wife.
'To-morrow it will be light,' he said, with his touch of bourgeois37 banter38, 'and you will be able to furnish as you like. Rose will go up and clear away the fruit and make the beds. Will you wait for a few minutes on the terrace? Come, children, take a couple of chairs out.'
Since the arrival of the priest and his mother, the young people had remained quietly seated at the table, curiously39 scrutinising the new-comers. The Abbé had not appeared to notice them, but Madame Faujas had stopped for a moment before each of them and stared them keenly in the face as though she were trying to pry40 into their young heads. As they[Pg 12] heard their father, they all three hastily rose and took some chairs out.
The old lady did not sit down; and when Mouret, losing sight of her, turned round to find out what had become of her, he saw her standing before a window of the drawing-room which was ajar. She craned out her neck and completed her inspection41 with all the calm deliberation of a person who is examining some property for sale. Just as Rose took up the little trunk, however, she went back into the passage, and said quietly:
'I will go up and help you.'
Then she went upstairs after the servant. The priest did not even turn his head; he was smiling at the three young people who still stood in front of him. In spite of the hardness of his brow and the stern lines about his mouth, his face was capable of expressing great gentleness, when such was his desire.
'Is this the whole of your family, madame?' he asked Marthe, who had just come up to him.
'Yes, sir,' she replied, feeling a little confused beneath the clear gaze which he turned upon her.
Looking again at her children, he continued:
'You've got two big lads there, who will soon be men—Have you finished your studies yet, my boy?'
It was to Serge that he addressed this question. Mouret interrupted the lad as he was going to reply.
'Yes, he has finished,' said the father; 'though he is the younger of the two. When I say that he has finished, I mean that he has taken his bachelor's degree, for he is staying on at college for another year to go through a course of philosophy. He is the clever one of the family. His brother, the elder, that great booby there, isn't up to much. He has been plucked twice already, but he still goes on idling his time away and larking42 about.'
Octave listened to his father's reproaches with a smile, while Serge bent his head beneath his praises. Faujas seemed to be studying them for a moment in silence, and then, going up to Désirée and putting on an expression of gentle tenderness, he said to her:
'Will you allow me, mademoiselle, to be your friend?'
She made no reply but, half afraid, hastened to hide her face against her mother's shoulder. The latter, instead of making her turn round again, pressed her more closely to her, clasping an arm around her waist.
[Pg 13]
'Excuse her,' she said with a touch of sadness, 'she hasn't a strong head, she has remained quite childish. She is an "innocent," we do not trouble her by attempting to teach her. She is fourteen years old now, and as yet she has only learned to love animals.'
Désirée's confidence returned to her with her mother's caresses43, and she lifted up her head and smiled. Then she boldly said to the priest:
'I should like you very much to be my friend; but you must promise me that you will never hurt the flies. Will you?'
And then, as every one about her began to smile, she added gravely:
'Octave crushes them, the poor flies! It is very wicked of him.'
Abbé Faujas sat down. He seemed very much tired. He yielded for a moment or two to the cool quietness of the terrace, glancing slowly over the garden and the neighbouring trees. The perfect calmness and solitude44 of this quiet corner of the little town seemed somewhat to surprise him.
'It is very pleasant here,' he murmured.
Then he relapsed into silence, and seemed lost in reverie. He started slightly as Mouret said to him with a laugh:
'If you will allow us, sir, we will now go back to our dinner.'
And then, catching45 a glance from his wife, Mouret added:
'You must sit down with us and have a plate of soup. It will save you the trouble of having to go to the hotel to dine. Don't make any difficulty, I beg.'
'I am extremely obliged to you, but we really don't require anything,' the Abbé replied in tones of extreme politeness, which allowed of no repetition of the invitation.
The Mourets then returned to the dining-room and seated themselves round the table. Marthe served the soup and there was soon a cheerful clatter46 of spoons. The young people chattered47 merrily, and Désirée broke into a peal49 of ringing laughter as she listened to a story which her father, who was now in high glee at having at last got to his dinner, was telling. In the meantime, Abbé Faujas, whom they had quite forgotten, remained motionless upon the terrace, facing the setting sun. He did not even turn his head, he seemed to hear nothing of what was going on behind him. Just as the sun was disappearing he took off his hat as if overcome[Pg 14] by the heat. Marthe, who was sitting with her face to the window, could see his big bare head with its short hair that was already silvering about the temples. A last red ray lighting50 up that stern soldier-like head, on which the tonsure51 lay like a cicatrised wound from the blow of a club; then the ray faded away and the priest, now wrapped in shadow, seemed nothing more than a black silhouette52 against the ashy grey of the gloaming.
Not wishing to summon Rose, Marthe herself went to get a lamp and brought in the first dish. As she was returning from the kitchen, she met, at the foot of the staircase, a woman whom she did not at first recognise. It was Madame Faujas. She had put on a cotton cap and looked like a servant in her common print gown, with a yellow kerchief crossed over her breast and knotted behind her waist. Her wrists were bare, she was quite out of breath with the work she had been doing, and her heavy laced boots clattered53 on the flooring of the passage.
'Ah! you've got all put right now, have you, madame?' Marthe asked with a smile.
'Oh, yes! it was a mere19 trifle and was done directly,' Madame Faujas replied.
She went down the steps that led to the terrace, and called in a gentler tone:
'Ovide, my child, will you come upstairs now? Everything is quite ready.'
She was obliged to go and lay her hand upon her son's shoulder to awaken54 him from his reverie. The air was growing cool, and the Abbé shivered as he got up and followed his mother in silence. As he passed before the door of the dining-room which was all bright with the cheerful glow of the lamp and merry with the chatter48 of the young folks, he peeped in and said in his flexible voice:
'Let me thank you again, and beg you to excuse us for having so disturbed you. We are very sorry——'
'No! no!' cried Mouret, 'it is we who are sorry and distressed at not being able to offer you better accommodation for the night.'
The priest bowed, and Marthe again met that clear gaze of his, that eagle glance which had affected55 her before. In the depths of his eyes, which were generally of a melancholy56 grey, flames seemed to gleam at times like lamps carried behind the windows of slumbering58 houses.
[Pg 15]
'The priest's not at all shamefaced,' Mouret remarked jestingly, when the mother and son had retired59.
'I don't think they are very well off,' Marthe replied.
'Well, at any rate, he isn't carrying Peru about with him in that box of his,' Mouret exclaimed. 'And it's light enough! Why, I could have raised it with the tip of my little finger!'
But he was interrupted in his flow of chatter by Rose, who had just come running down the stairs to relate the extraordinary things she had witnessed.
'Well, she is a wonderful creature, indeed!' she cried, posting herself in front of the table at which the family were eating. 'She's sixty-five at least, but she doesn't show it at all, and she bustles60 about, and works like a horse!'
'Did she help you to remove the fruit?' Mouret asked, with some curiosity.
'Yes, indeed, she did, sir! She carried it away in her apron61, in loads heavy enough to burst it. I kept saying to myself, "The apron will certainly go this time," but it didn't. It is made of good strong material, the same kind of material as I wear myself. We made at least ten journeys backwards62 and forwards, and I felt as though my arms would fall off, but she only grumbled63, and complained that we were getting on very slowly. I really believe, begging your pardon for mentioning it, that I heard her swear.'
Mouret appeared to be greatly amused.
'And the beds?' he asked.
'The beds, she made them too. It was quite a sight to see her turn the mattress over. It seemed to weigh nothing, I can tell you; she just took hold of it at one end and tossed it into the air as though it had been a feather. And yet she was very careful and particular with it all. She tucked in the folding-bed as carefully as though she were preparing a baby's cradle. She couldn't have laid the sheets with greater devotion if the Infant Jesus Himself had been going to sleep there. She put three out of the four blankets upon the folding-bed. And it was just the same with the pillows; she kept none for herself, but gave both to her son.'
'She is going to sleep on the floor, then?'
'In a corner, just like a dog! She threw a mattress on the floor of the other room and said that she'd sleep there more soundly than if she were in paradise. I couldn't persuade her to do anything to make herself more comfortable.[Pg 16] She says that she is never cold, and that her head is much too hard to make her at all afraid of lying on the floor. I have taken them some sugar and some water, as madame told me. Oh! they really are the strangest people!'
Then Rose brought in the remainder of the dinner. That evening the Mourets lingered over their meal. They discussed the new tenants at great length. In their life, which went on with all the even regularity64 of clock-work, the arrival of these two strangers was a very exciting event. They talked about it as they would have done of some catastrophe65 in the neighbourhood, going into all that minuteness of detail which helps one to while away long nights in the country. Mouret was especially fond of the chattering66 gossip of a little provincial67 town. During dessert, as he rested his elbows on the table in the cool dining-room, he repeated for the tenth time with the self-satisfied air of a happy man:
'It certainly isn't a very handsome present that Besan?on has made to Plassans! Did you notice the back of his cassock when he turned round? I shall be very much surprised if he is much run after by the pious68 folks here. He is too seedy and threadbare; and the pious folks like nice-looking priests.'
'He has a very gentle voice,' said Marthe, indulgently.
'Not when he is angry, at any rate,' Mouret replied. 'Didn't you hear him when he burst out on finding that the rooms were not furnished? He's a stern man, I'll be bound; not one of the sort, I should think, to go lounging in confessional-boxes. I shall be very curious to see how he sets about his furnishing to-morrow. But as long as he pays me, I don't much mind anything else. If he doesn't, I shall apply to Abbé Bourrette. It was with him that I made the bargain.'
The Mourets were not a devout69 family. The children themselves made fun of the Abbé and his mother. Octave burlesqued70 the old lady's way of craning out her neck to see to the end of the rooms, a performance which made Désirée laugh. After a time, however, Serge, who was of a more serious turn of mind, stood up for 'those poor people.'
As a rule, precisely71 at ten o'clock, if he was not playing at piquet, Mouret took up his candlestick and went off to bed, but that evening, when eleven o'clock struck, he was not yet feeling drowsy72. Désirée had fallen asleep, with her head lying on Marthe's knees. The two lads had gone up to their[Pg 17] room; and Mouret, left alone with his wife, still went on chattering.
'How old do you suppose he is?' he suddenly asked.
'Who?' replied Marthe, who was now beginning to feel very sleepy.
'Who? Why, the Abbé, of course! Between forty and forty-five, eh? He's a fine strapping73 fellow. It's a pity for him to wear a cassock! He would have made a splendid carbineer.'
Then, after an interval74 of silence, he vented75 aloud the reflections which were exercising his mind:
'They arrived by the quarter to seven train. They can only have just had time to call on Abbé Bourrette before coming here. I'll wager76 that they haven't dined! That is quite clear. We should certainly have seen them if they had gone out to the hotel. Ah, now! I should very much like to know where they can have had anything to eat.'
Rose had been lingering about the dining-room for the last few moments, waiting for her master and mistress to go to bed in order that she might be at liberty to fasten the doors and windows.
'I know where they had something to eat,' she said. And as Mouret turned briskly towards her, she added: 'Yes, I had gone upstairs again to see if there was anything they wanted. As I heard no sound, I didn't venture to knock at the door, but I looked through the key-hole.'
'Why, that was very improper77 of you, very improper,' Marthe interrupted, severely78. 'You know very well, Rose, that I don't approve of anything of that kind.'
'Leave her alone and let her go on!' cried Mouret, who, under other circumstances, would have been very angry with the inquisitive79 woman. 'You peeped through the key-hole, did you?'
'Yes, sir; I thought it was the best plan.'
'Clearly so. What were they doing?'
'Well, sir, they were eating. I saw them sitting on one corner of the folding-bedstead and eating. The old lady had spread out a napkin. Every time that they helped themselves to some wine, they corked the bottle again and laid it down against the pillow.'
'But what were they eating?'
'I couldn't quite tell, sir. It seemed to me like the remains80 of some pastry81 wrapped up in a newspaper. They[Pg 18] had some apples as well—little apples that looked good for nothing.'
'They were talking, I suppose? Did you hear what they said?'
'No, sir, they were not talking. I stayed for a good quarter of an hour watching them, but they never said anything. They were much too busy eating!'
Marthe now rose, woke Désirée, and made as though she were going off to bed. Her husband's curiosity vexed her. He, too, at last made up his mind to go off upstairs, while old Rose, who was a pious creature, went on in a lower tone:
'The poor, dear man must have been frightfully hungry. His mother handed him the biggest pieces and watched him swallow them with delight. And now he'll sleep in some nice white sheets; unless, indeed, the smell of the fruit keeps him awake. It isn't a pleasant smell to have in one's bedroom, that sour odour of apples and pears. And there isn't a bit of furniture in the whole room, nothing but the bed in the corner! If I were he, I should feel quite frightened, and I should keep the light burning all night.'
Mouret had taken up his candlestick. He stood for a moment in front of Rose, and summed up the events of the evening like a genuine bourgeois who has met with something unusual: 'It is extraordinary!'
Then he joined his wife at the foot of the staircase. She got into bed and fell asleep, while he still continued listening to the slightest sounds that proceeded from the upper floor. The Abbé's room was immediately over his own. He heard the window of it being gently opened, and this greatly excited his curiosity. He raised his head from his pillow, and strenuously82 struggled against his increasing drowsiness83 in his anxiety to find out how long the Abbé would remain at the window. But sleep was too strong for him, and he was snoring noisily before he had been able to detect the grating sound which the window-fastening made when it was closed.
Up above, Abbé Faujas was gazing, bare-headed, out of his window into the black night. He lingered there for a long time, glad to find himself at last alone, absorbed in those thoughts which gave his brow such an expression of sternness. Underneath him, he was conscious of the tranquil84 slumber57 of the family whose home he had been sharing for the last few hours; the calm, easy breathing of the children and their mother Marthe, and the heavy, regular respiration85 of Mouret.[Pg 19] There was a touch of scorn in the way in which the priest stretched out his muscular neck, as he raised his head to gaze upon the town that lay slumbering in the distance. The tall trees in the garden of the Sub-Prefecture formed a mass of gloomy darkness, and Monsieur Rastoil's pear-trees thrust up scraggy, twisted branches, while, further away, there was but a sea of black shadow, a blank nothingness, whence not a sound proceeded. The town lay as tranquilly86 asleep as an infant in its cradle.
Abbé Faujas stretched out his arms with an air of ironic87 defiance88, as though he would have liked to circle them round Plassans, and squeeze the life out of it by crushing it against his brawny89 chest. And he murmured to himself:
'Ah! to think that the imbeciles laughed at me this evening, as they saw me going through their streets!'
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1
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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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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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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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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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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corked
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| adj.带木塞气味的，塞着瓶塞的v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的过去式 ) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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raisins
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| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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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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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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larking
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| v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的现在分词 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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50
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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tonsure
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| n.削发；v.剃 | |
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52
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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53
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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bustles
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| 热闹( bustle的名词复数 )； （女裙后部的）衬垫； 撑架 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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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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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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burlesqued
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| v.（嘲弄地）模仿，（通过模仿）取笑( burlesque的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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73
strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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81
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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82
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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83
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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84
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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85
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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86
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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87
ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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88
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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89
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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