Margaret's night was disturbed, and next day she was unable to go about her work with her usual tranquillity1. She tried to reason herself into a natural explanation of the events that had happened. The telegram that Susie had received pointed2 to a definite scheme on Haddo's part, and suggested that his sudden illness was but a device to get into the studio. Once there, he had used her natural sympathy as a means whereby to exercise his hypnotic power, and all she had seen was merely the creation of his own libidinous4 fancy. But though she sought to persuade herself that, in playing a vile5 trick on her, he had taken a shameful6 advantage of her pity, she could not look upon him with anger. Her contempt for him, her utter loathing7, were alloyed with a feeling that aroused in her horror and dismay. She could not get the man out of her thoughts. All that he had said, all that she had seen, seemed, as though it possessed8 a power of material growth, unaccountably to absorb her. It was as if a rank weed were planted in her heart and slid long poisonous tentacles9 down every artery10, so that each part of her body was enmeshed. Work could not distract her, conversation, exercise, art, left her listless; and between her and all the actions of life stood the flamboyant11, bulky form of Oliver Haddo. She was terrified of him now as never before, but curiously12 had no longer the physical repulsion which hitherto had mastered all other feelings. Although she repeated to herself that she wanted never to see him again, Margaret could scarcely resist an overwhelming desire to go to him. Her will had been taken from her, and she was an automaton14. She struggled, like a bird in the fowler's net with useless beating of the wings; but at the bottom of her heart she was dimly conscious that she did not want to resist. If he had given her that address, it was because he knew she would use it. She did not know why she wanted to go to him; she had nothing to say to him; she knew only that it was necessary to go. But a few days before she had seen the _Phèdre_ of Racine, and she felt on a sudden all the torments15 that wrung16 the heart of that unhappy queen; she, too, struggled aimlessly to escape from the poison that the immortal17 gods poured in her veins18. She asked herself frantically19 whether a spell had been cast over her, for now she was willing to believe that Haddo's power was all-embracing. Margaret knew that if she yielded to the horrible temptation nothing could save her from destruction. She would have cried for help to Arthur or to Susie, but something, she knew not what, prevented her. At length, driven almost to distraction20, she thought that Dr Porho?t might do something for her. He, at least, would understand her misery21. There seemed not a moment to lose, and she hastened to his house. They told her he was out. Her heart sank, for it seemed that her last hope was gone. She was like a person drowning, who clings to a rock; and the waves dash against him, and beat upon his bleeding hands with a malice22 all too human, as if to tear them from their refuge.
Instead of going to the sketch-class, which was held at six in the evening, she hurried to the address that Oliver Haddo had given her. She went along the crowded street stealthily, as though afraid that someone would see her, and her heart was in a turmoil23. She desired with all her might not to go, and sought vehemently24 to prevent herself, and yet withal she went. She ran up the stairs and knocked at the door. She remembered his directions distinctly. In a moment Oliver Haddo stood before her. He did not seem astonished that she was there. As she stood on the landing, it occurred to her suddenly that she had no reason to offer for her visit, but his words saved her from any need for explanation.
'I've been waiting for you,' he said.
Haddo led her into a sitting-room25. He had an apartment in a _maison meublée_, and heavy hangings, the solid furniture of that sort of house in Paris, was unexpected in connexion with him. The surroundings were so commonplace that they seemed to emphasise26 his singularity. There was a peculiar27 lack of comfort, which suggested that he was indifferent to material things. The room was large, but so cumbered that it gave a cramped29 impression. Haddo dwelt there as if he were apart from any habitation that might be his. He moved cautiously among the heavy furniture, and his great obesity30 was somehow more remarkable31. There was the acrid32 perfume which Margaret remembered a few days before in her vision of an Eastern city.
Asking her to sit down, he began to talk as if they were old acquaintances between whom nothing of moment had occurred. At last she took her courage in both hands.
'Why did you make me come here?' she asked suddenly,
'You give me credit now for very marvellous powers,' he smiled.
'You knew I should come.'
'I knew.'
'What have I done to you that you should make me so unhappy? I want you to leave me alone.'
'I shall not prevent you from going out if you choose to go. No harm has come to you. The door is open.'
Her heart beat quickly, painfully almost, and she remained silent. She knew that she did not want to go. There was something that drew her strangely to him, and she was ceasing to resist. A strange feeling began to take hold of her, creeping stealthily through her limbs; and she was terrified, but unaccountably elated.
He began to talk with that low voice of his that thrilled her with a curious magic. He spoke33 not of pictures now, nor of books, but of life. He told her of strange Eastern places where no infidel had been, and her sensitive fancy was aflame with the honeyed fervour of his phrase. He spoke of the dawn upon sleeping desolate34 cities, and the moonlit nights of the desert, of the sunsets with their splendour, and of the crowded streets at noon. The beauty of the East rose before her. He told her of many-coloured webs and of silken carpets, the glittering steel of armour35 damascened, and of barbaric, priceless gems36. The splendour of the East blinded her eyes. He spoke of frankincense and myrrh and aloes, of heavy perfumes of the scent37-merchants, and drowsy38 odours of the Syrian gardens. The fragrance39 of the East filled her nostrils40. And all these things were transformed by the power of his words till life itself seemed offered to her, a life of infinite vivacity41, a life of freedom, a life of supernatural knowledge. It seemed to her that a comparison was drawn42 for her attention between the narrow round which awaited her as Arthur's wife and this fair, full existence. She shuddered43 to think of the dull house in Harley Street and the insignificance44 of its humdrum45 duties. But it was possible for her also to enjoy the wonder of the world. Her soul yearned46 for a beauty that the commonalty of men did not know. And what devil suggested, a warp47 as it were in the woof of Oliver's speech, that her exquisite48 loveliness gave her the right to devote herself to the great art of living? She felt a sudden desire for perilous49 adventures. As though fire passed through her, she sprang to her feet and stood with panting bosom50, her flashing eyes bright with the multi-coloured pictures that his magic presented.
Oliver Haddo stood too, and they faced one another. Then, on a sudden, she knew what the passion was that consumed her. With a quick movement, his eyes more than ever strangely staring, he took her in his arms, and he kissed her lips. She surrendered herself to him voluptuously52. Her whole body burned with the ecstasy53 of his embrace.
'I think I love you,' she said, hoarsely54.
She looked at him. She did not feel ashamed.
'Now you must go,' he said.
He opened the door, and, without another word, she went. She walked through the streets as if nothing at all had happened. She felt neither remorse55 nor revulsion.
Then Margaret felt every day that uncontrollable desire to go to him; and, though she tried to persuade herself not to yield, she knew that her effort was only a pretence56: she did not want anything to prevent her. When it seemed that some accident would do so, she could scarcely control her irritation57. There was always that violent hunger of the soul which called her to him, and the only happy hours she had were those spent in his company. Day after day she felt that complete ecstasy when he took her in his huge arms, and kissed her with his heavy, sensual lips. But the ecstasy was extraordinarily58 mingled59 with loathing, and her physical attraction was allied60 with physical abhorrence61.
Yet when he looked at her with those pale blue eyes, and threw into his voice those troubling accents, she forgot everything. He spoke of unhallowed things. Sometimes, as it were, he lifted a corner of the veil, and she caught a glimpse of terrible secrets. She understood how men had bartered62 their souls for infinite knowledge. She seemed to stand upon a pinnacle63 of the temple, and spiritual kingdoms of darkness, principalities of the unknown, were spread before her eyes to lure64 her to destruction. But of Haddo himself she learned nothing. She did not know if he loved her. She did not know if he had ever loved. He appeared to stand apart from human kind. Margaret discovered by chance that his mother lived, but he would not speak of her.
'Some day you shall see her,' he said.
'When?'
'Very soon.'
Meanwhile her life proceeded with all outward regularity66. She found it easy to deceive her friends, because it occurred to neither that her frequent absence was not due to the plausible67 reasons she gave. The lies which at first seemed intolerable now tripped glibly68 off her tongue. But though they were so natural, she was seized often with a panic of fear lest they should be discovered; and sometimes, suffering agonies of remorse, she would lie in bed at night and think with utter shame of the way she was using Arthur. But things had gone too far now, and she must let them take their course. She scarcely knew why her feelings towards him had so completely changed. Oliver Haddo had scarcely mentioned his name and yet had poisoned her mind. The comparison between the two was to Arthur's disadvantage. She thought him a little dull now, and his commonplace way of looking at life contrasted with Haddo's fascinating boldness. She reproached Arthur in her heart because he had never understood what was in her. He narrowed her mind. And gradually she began to hate him because her debt of gratitude69 was so great. It seemed unfair that he should have done so much for her. He forced her to marry him by his beneficence. Yet Margaret continued to discuss with him the arrangement of their house in Harley Street. It had been her wish to furnish the drawing-room in the style of Louis XV; and together they made long excursions to buy chairs or old pieces of silk with which to cover them. Everything should be perfect in its kind. The date of their marriage was fixed70, and all the details were settled. Arthur was ridiculously happy. Margaret made no sign. She did not think of the future, and she spoke of it only to ward65 off suspicion. She was inwardly convinced now that the marriage would never take place, but what was to prevent it she did not know. She watched Susie and Arthur cunningly. But though she watched in order to conceal71 her own secret, it was another's that she discovered. Suddenly Margaret became aware that Susie was deeply in love with Arthur Burdon. The discovery was so astounding72 that at first it seemed absurd.
'You've never done that caricature of Arthur for me that you promised,' she said, suddenly.
'I've tried, but he doesn't lend himself to it,' laughed Susie.
'With that long nose and the gaunt figure I should have thought you could make something screamingly funny.'
'How oddly you talk of him! Somehow I can only see his beautiful, kind eyes and his tender mouth. I would as soon do a caricature of him as write a parody73 on a poem I loved.'
Margaret took the portfolio74 in which Susie kept her sketches75. She caught the look of alarm that crossed her friend's face, but Susie had not the courage to prevent her from looking. She turned the drawings carelessly and presently came to a sheet upon which, in a more or less finished state, were half a dozen heads of Arthur. Pretending not to see it, she went on to the end. When she closed the portfolio Susie gave a sigh of relief.
'I wish you worked harder,' said Margaret, as she put the sketches down. 'I wonder you don't do a head of Arthur as you can't do a caricature.'
'My dear, you mustn't expect everyone to take such an overpowering interest in that young man as you do.'
The answer added a last certainty to Margaret's suspicion. She told herself bitterly that Susie was no less a liar28 than she. Next day, when the other was out, Margaret looked through the portfolio once more, but the sketches of Arthur had disappeared. She was seized on a sudden with anger because Susie dared to love the man who loved her.
The web in which Oliver Haddo enmeshed her was woven with skilful76 intricacy. He took each part of her character separately and fortified77 with consummate78 art his influence over her. There was something satanic in his deliberation, yet in actual time it was almost incredible that he could have changed the old abhorrence with which she regarded him into that hungry passion. Margaret could not now realize her life apart from his. At length he thought the time was ripe for the final step.
'It may interest you to know that I'm leaving Paris on Thursday,' he said casually79, one afternoon.
She started to her feet and stared at him with bewildered eyes.
'But what is to become of me?'
'You will marry the excellent Mr Burdon.'
'You know I cannot live without you. How can you be so cruel?'
'Then the only alternative is that you should accompany me.'
Her blood ran cold, and her heart seemed pressed in an iron vice3.
'What do you mean?'
'There is no need to be agitated80. I am making you an eminently81 desirable offer of marriage.'
She sank helplessly into her chair. Because she had refused to think of the future, it had never struck her that the time must come when it would be necessary to leave Haddo or to throw in her lot with his definitely. She was seized with revulsion. Margaret realized that, though an odious82 attraction bound her to the man, she loathed83 and feared him. The scales fell from her eyes. She remembered on a sudden Arthur's great love and all that he had done for her sake. She hated herself. Like a bird at its last gasp84 beating frantically against the bars of a cage, Margaret made a desperate effort to regain85 her freedom. She sprang up.
'Let me go from here. I wish I'd never seen you. I don't know what you've done with me.'
'Go by all means if you choose,' he answered.
He opened the door, so that she might see he used no compulsion, and stood lazily at the threshold, with a hateful smile on his face. There was something terrible in his excessive bulk. Rolls of fat descended86 from his chin and concealed87 his neck. His cheeks were huge, and the lack of beard added to the hideous88 nakedness of his face. Margaret stopped as she passed him, horribly repelled89 yet horribly fascinated. She had an immense desire that he should take her again in his arms and press her lips with that red voluptuous51 mouth. It was as though fiends of hell were taking revenge upon her loveliness by inspiring in her a passion for this monstrous90 creature. She trembled with the intensity91 of her desire. His eyes were hard and cruel.
'Go,' he said.
She bent92 her head and fled from before him. To get home she passed through the gardens of the Luxembourg, but her legs failed her, and in exhaustion93 she sank upon a bench. The day was sultry. She tried to collect herself. Margaret knew well the part in which she sat, for in the enthusiastic days that seemed so long gone by she was accustomed to come there for the sake of a certain tree upon which her eyes now rested. It had all the slim delicacy94 of a Japanese print. The leaves were slender and fragile, half gold with autumn, half green, but so tenuous95 that the dark branches made a pattern of subtle beauty against the sky. The hand of a draughtsman could not have fashioned it with a more excellent skill. But now Margaret could take no pleasure in its grace. She felt a heartrending pang96 to think that thenceforward the consummate things of art would have no meaning for her. She had seen Arthur the evening before, and remembered with an agony of shame the lies to which she had been forced in order to explain why she could not see him till late that day. He had proposed that they should go to Versailles, and was bitterly disappointed when she told him they could not, as usual on Sundays, spend the whole day together. He accepted her excuse that she had to visit a sick friend. It would not have been so intolerable if he had suspected her of deceit, and his reproaches would have hardened her heart. It was his entire confidence which was so difficult to bear.
'Oh, if I could only make a clean breast of it all,' she cried.
The bell of Saint Sulpice was ringing for vespers. Margaret walked slowly to the church, and sat down in the seats reserved in the transept for the needy97. She hoped that the music she must hear there would rest her soul, and perhaps she might be able to pray. Of late she had not dared. There was a pleasant darkness in the place, and its large simplicity98 was soothing99. In her exhaustion, she watched listlessly the people go to and fro. Behind her was a priest in the confessional. A little peasant girl, in a Breton _coiffe_, perhaps a maid-servant lately come from her native village to the great capital, passed in and knelt down. Margaret could hear her muttered words, and at intervals100 the deep voice of the priest. In three minutes she tripped neatly101 away. She looked so fresh in her plain black dress, so healthy and innocent, that Margaret could not restrain a sob102 of envy. The child had so little to confess, a few puny103 errors which must excite a smile on the lips of the gentle priest, and her candid104 spirit was like snow. Margaret would have given anything to kneel down and whisper in those passionless ears all that she suffered, but the priest's faith and hers were not the same. They spoke a different tongue, not of the lips only but of the soul, and he would not listen to the words of an heretic.
A long procession of seminarists came in from the college which is under the shadow of that great church, two by two, in black cassocks and short white surplices. Many were tonsured105 already. Some were quite young. Margaret watched their faces, wondering if they were tormented106 by such agony as she. But they had a living faith to sustain them, and if some, as was plain, were narrow and obtuse107, they had at least a fixed rule which prevented them from swerving108 into treacherous109 byways. One of two had a wan13 ascetic110 look, such as the saints may have had when the terror of life was known to them only in the imaginings of the cloister111. The canons of the church followed in their more gorgeous vestments, and finally the officiating clergy112.
The music was beautiful. There was about it a staid, sad dignity; and it seemed to Margaret fit thus to adore God. But it did not move her. She could not understand the words that the priests chanted; their gestures, their movements to and fro, were strange to her. For her that stately service had no meaning. And with a great cry in her heart she said that God had forsaken113 her. She was alone in an alien land. Evil was all about her, and in those ceremonies she could find no comfort. What could she expect when the God of her fathers left her to her fate? So that she might not weep in front of all those people, Margaret with down-turned face walked to the door. She felt utterly114 lost. As she walked along the interminable street that led to her own house, she was shaken with sobs115.
'God has forsaken me,' she repeated. 'God has foresaken me.'
Next day, her eyes red with weeping, she dragged herself to Haddo's door. When he opened it, she went in without a word. She sat down, and he watched her in silence.
'I am willing to marry you whenever you choose,' she said at last.
'I have made all the necessary arrangements.'
'You have spoken to me of your mother. Will you take me to her at once.'
The shadow of a smile crossed his lips.
'If you wish it.'
Haddo told her that they could be married before the Consul116 early enough on the Thursday morning to catch a train for England. She left everything in his hands.
'I'm desperately117 unhappy,' she said dully.
Oliver laid his hands upon her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
'Go home, and you will forget your tears. I command you to be happy.'
Then it seemed that the bitter struggle between the good and the evil in her was done, and the evil had conquered. She felt on a sudden curiously elated. It seemed no longer to matter that she deceived her faithful friends. She gave a bitter laugh, as she thought how easy it was to hoodwink them.
* * * * *
Wednesday happened to be Arthur's birthday, and he asked her to dine with him alone.
'We'll do ourselves proud, and hang the expense,' he said.
They had arranged to eat at a fashionable restaurant on the other side of the river, and soon after seven he fetched her. Margaret was dressed with exceeding care. She stood in the middle of the room, waiting for Arthur's arrival, and surveyed herself in the glass. Susie thought she had never been more beautiful.
'I think you've grown more pleasing to look upon than you ever were,' she said. 'I don't know what it is that has come over you of late, but there's a depth in your eyes that is quite new. It gives you an odd mysteriousness which is very attractive.'
Knowing Susie's love for Arthur, she wondered whether her friend was not heartbroken as she compared her own plainness with the radiant beauty that was before her. Arthur came in, and Margaret did not move. He stopped at the door to look at her. Their eyes met. His heart beat quickly, and yet he was seized with awe118. His good fortune was too great to bear, when he thought that this priceless treasure was his. He could have knelt down and worshipped as though a goddess of old Greece stood before him. And to him also her eyes had changed. They had acquired a burning passion which disturbed and yet enchanted119 him. It seemed that the lovely girl was changed already into a lovely woman. An enigmatic smile came to her lips.
'Are you pleased?' she asked.
Arthur came forward and Margaret put her hands on his shoulders.
'You have scent on,' he said.
He was surprised, for she had never used it before. It was a faint, almost acrid perfume that he did not know. It reminded him vaguely120 of those odours which he remembered in his childhood in the East. It was remote and strange. It gave Margaret a new and troubling charm. There had ever been something cold in her statuesque beauty, but this touch somehow curiously emphasized her sex. Arthur's lips twitched121, and his gaunt face grew pale with passion. His emotion was so great that it was nearly pain. He was puzzled, for her eyes expressed things that he had never seen in them before.
'Why don't you kiss me?' she said.
She did not see Susie, but knew that a quick look of anguish122 crossed her face. Margaret drew Arthur towards her. His hands began to tremble. He had never ventured to express the passion that consumed him, and when he kissed her it was with a restraint that was almost brotherly. Now their lips met. Forgetting that anyone else was in the room, he flung his arms around Margaret. She had never kissed him in that way before, and the rapture123 was intolerable. Her lips were like living fire. He could not take his own away. He forgot everything. All his strength, all his self-control, deserted124 him. It crossed his mind that at this moment he would willingly die. But the delight of it was so great that he could scarcely withhold125 a cry of agony. At length Susie's voice reminded him of the world.
'You'd far better go out to dinner instead of behaving like a pair of complete idiots.'
She tried to make her tone as flippant as the words, but her voice was cut by a pang of agony. With a little laugh, Margaret withdrew from Arthur's embrace and lightly looked at her friend. Susie's brave smile died away as she caught this glance, for there was in it a malicious126 hatred127 that startled her. It was so unexpected that she was terrified. What had she done? She was afraid, dreadfully afraid, that Margaret had guessed her secret. Arthur stood as if his senses had left him, quivering still with the extremity128 of passion.
'Susie says we must go,' smiled Margaret.
He could not speak. He could not regain the conventional manner of polite society. Very pale, like a man suddenly awaked from deep sleep, he went out at Margaret's side. They walked along the passage. Though the door was closed behind them and they were out of earshot, Margaret seemed not withstanding to hear Susie's passionate129 sobbing130. It gave her a horrible delight. The tavern131 to which they went was on the Boulevard des Italiens, and at this date the most frequented in Paris. It was crowded, but Arthur had reserved a table in the middle of the room. Her radiant loveliness made people stare at Margaret as she passed, and her consciousness of the admiration132 she excited increased her beauty. She was satisfied that amid that throng133 of the best-dressed women in the world she had cause to envy no one. The gaiety was charming. Shaded lights gave an opulent cosiness134 to the scene, and there were flowers everywhere. Innumerable mirrors reflected women of the world, admirably gowned, actresses of renown135, and fashionable courtesans. The noise was very great. A Hungarian band played in a distant corner, but the music was drowned by the loud talking of excited men and the boisterous136 laughter of women. It was plain that people had come to spend their money with a lavish137 hand. The vivacious138 crowd was given over with all its heart to the pleasure of the fleeting139 moment. Everyone had put aside grave thoughts and sorrow.
Margaret had never been in better spirits. The champagne140 went quickly to her head, and she talked all manner of charming nonsense. Arthur was enchanted. He was very proud, very pleased, and very happy. They talked of all the things they would do when they were married. They talked of the places they must go to, of their home and of the beautiful things with which they would fill it. Margaret's animation141 was extraordinary. Arthur was amused at her delight with the brightness of the place, with the good things they ate, and with the wine. Her laughter was like a rippling142 brook143. Everything tended to take him out of his usual reserve. Life was very pleasing, at that moment, and he felt singularly joyful144.
'Let us drink to the happiness of our life,' he said.
They touched glasses. He could not take his eyes away from her.
'You're simply wonderful tonight,' he said. 'I'm almost afraid of my good fortune.'
'What is there to be afraid of?' she cried.
'I should like to lose something I valued in order to propitiate145 the fates. I am too happy now. Everything goes too well with me.'
She gave a soft, low laugh and stretched out her hand on the table. No sculptor146 could have modelled its exquisite delicacy. She wore only one ring, a large emerald which Arthur had given her on their engagement. He could not resist taking her hand.
'Would you like to go on anywhere?' he said, when they had finished dinner and were drinking their coffee.
'No, let us stay here. I must go to bed early, as I have a tiring day before me tomorrow.'
'What are you going to do?' he asked.
'Nothing of any importance,' she laughed.
Presently the diners began to go in little groups, and Margaret suggested that they should saunter towards the Madeleine. The night was fine, but rather cold, and the broad avenue was crowded. Margaret watched the people. It was no less amusing than a play. In a little while, they took a cab and drove through the streets, silent already, that led to the quarter of the Montparnasse. They sat in silence, and Margaret nestled close to Arthur. He put his arm around her waist. In the shut cab that faint, oriental odour rose again to his nostrils, and his head reeled as it had before dinner.
'You've made me very happy, Margaret,' he whispered. 'I feel that, however long I live, I shall never have a happier day than this.'
'Do you love me very much?' she asked, lightly.
He did not answer, but took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately147. They arrived at Margaret's house, and she tripped up to the door. She held out her hand to him, smiling.
'Goodnight.'
'It's dreadful to think that I must spend a dozen hours without seeing you. When may I come?'
'Not in the morning, because I shall be too busy. Come at twelve.'
She remembered that her train started exactly at that hour. The door was opened, and with a little wave of the hand she disappeared.
收听单词发音 |
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tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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libidinous
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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artery
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| n.干线，要道；动脉 | |
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flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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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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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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22
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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23
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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24
vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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25
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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26
emphasise
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| vt.加强...的语气，强调，着重 | |
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27
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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28
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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29
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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30
obesity
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| n.肥胖，肥大 | |
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31
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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32
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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33
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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34
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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35
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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36
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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37
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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38
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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39
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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40
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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41
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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42
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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43
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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44
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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45
humdrum
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| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
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46
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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48
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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49
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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50
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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51
voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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52
voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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53
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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54
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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55
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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56
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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57
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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58
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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59
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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60
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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61
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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62
bartered
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| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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64
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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65
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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66
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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67
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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68
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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69
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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70
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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71
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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72
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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73
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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74
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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75
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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76
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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77
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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78
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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79
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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80
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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81
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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82
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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83
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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84
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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85
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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86
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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87
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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88
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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89
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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90
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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91
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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92
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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93
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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94
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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95
tenuous
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| adj.细薄的，稀薄的，空洞的 | |
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96
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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97
needy
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| adj.贫穷的，贫困的，生活艰苦的 | |
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98
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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99
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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100
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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101
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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102
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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103
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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104
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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105
tonsured
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| v.剃( tonsure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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107
obtuse
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| adj.钝的；愚钝的 | |
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108
swerving
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的现在分词 ) | |
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109
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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110
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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111
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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112
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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113
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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114
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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115
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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116
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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117
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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118
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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119
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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120
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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121
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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122
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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123
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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124
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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125
withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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126
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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127
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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128
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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129
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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130
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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131
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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132
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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133
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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134
cosiness
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| n.舒适，安逸 | |
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135
renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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136
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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137
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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138
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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139
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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140
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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141
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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142
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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143
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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144
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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145
propitiate
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| v.慰解，劝解 | |
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146
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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147
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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