Martin learned from a perturbed6 Bigourdin that she had descended7 immediately after he had left the vestibule and had led Fargot at once into the Salon9 de Lecture, a moth-eaten and fusty cubby-hole in which commercial travellers who found morbid10 pleasure in the early stages of asphyxiation11 sometimes wrote their letters. There they had remained for some time, at the end of which Monsieur Fargot—“il avait l’air hébété,” according to Baptiste, a witness of his exit—had issued forth12 alone and jumped into his car and sped away, presumably to Bordeaux. After a moment or two Mademoiselle Corinne, in her turn, had emerged from the Salon de Lecture and looking very haughty13 with her pretty head in the air—(again Baptiste)—had mounted to her apartment.
Those were the bare facts. Bigourdin narrated14 them simply, in order to account for Corinna’s non-appearance at dinner. With admirable taste he forbore to question Martin as to the relations between the lady and her visitor. Nor did Martin enlighten him. An art-student in Paris like Corinna must necessarily have a host of friends. What more natural than that one, finding himself in her neighbourhood, should make a passing call. Such was the tacit convention between Martin and Bigourdin. But the breast of each harboured the conviction that the visit had not been a success of cordiality. Bigourdin exhibited brighter spirits that night at the Café de l’Univers. He played his game of backgammon with Monsieur le Maire and beat him exultantly16. Around him the coterie17 cursed the Germans for forcing the three years’ service on France. He paused, arm uplifted in the act of throwing the dice18.
“Never mind. They seek it—they will get it. Vous l’avez voulu, Georges Dandin. The bon Dieu is on our side, just as He is on mine in this battle here. Vlan!”
The dice rattled19 out of the box and they showed the number that declared him the winner. A great shout arose. The honest burgesses cried miracle. Voyons, it was a sign from heaven to France. “In hoc signo vinces!” cried a professor at the Ecole Normale, and the sober company had another round of bocks to celebrate the augury20.
Martin and Bigourdin walked home through the narrow, silent streets and over the bridges. There was a high wind sharpened by a breath of autumn which ruffled21 the dim surface of the water; and overhead a rack of cloud scudded22 athwart the stars. A light or two far up the gloomy scaur shewed the H?tel des Grottes. Bigourdin waved his hand in the darkness.
“It is beautiful, all this.”
“It is beautiful to me,” said Bigourdin, “because it is my own country. I was born and bred here and my forefathers26 before me. It is part of me like my legs and my arms. I don’t say that I am beautiful myself,” he added, with a laugh, his French wit seeing whither logic27 would lead him. “But you understand.”
“Yes,” said Martin. “I can understand in a way. But I have no little corner of a country that I can call my own. I’m not the son of any soil.”
“Périgord is very fruitful and motherly. She will adopt you,” laughed Bigourdin.
“But I am English of the English,” replied Martin. “Périgord would only adopt a Frenchman.”
“I have heard it said and I believe it to be true,” said Bigourdin, “that every English artist has two countries, his own and France. And it is the artist who expresses the national feeling and not the university professors and philosophers; and all true men have in them something of the artistic28, something which responds to the artistic appeal—I don’t know if I make myself clear, Monsieur Martin—but you must confess that all the outside inspiration you get in England in your art and your literature is Latin. I say ‘outside,’ for naturally you draw from your own noble wells; but for nearly a generation the fin15 esprit anglais, in all its delicacy29 and all its subtlety30 and all its humanity is in every way sympathetic with the fin esprit fran?ais. Is not that true?”
“Now I come to think of it,” said Martin, “I suppose it is. I represent the more or less educated middle-class Englishman, and, so far as I am aware of any influence on my life, everything outside of England that has moved me has been French. As far as I know, Germany has not produced one great work of art or literature during the last forty years.”
“Voilà!” cried Bigourdin, “how could a pig of a country like that produce works of art? I haven’t been to Berlin. But I have seen photographs of the Allée des Victoires. Mon cher, it is terrible. It is sculpture hewn out by orders of the drill sergeant’s cane31. Ah, cochon de pays! But you others, you English—at last, after our hundred years of peace, you realise how bound you are to France. You realise—all the noble souls among you—that your language is half Latin, that for a thousand years, even before the Norman conquest, all your culture, all the sympathies of your poetry and your art are Roman—and Greek—enfin are Latin. Your wonderful cathedrals—Gothic—do you get them from Teutonic barbarism? No. You get them from the Comacine masters—the little band of Latin spiritualists on the shores of Lake Como. I am an ignorant man, Monsieur Martin, but I have read a little and I have much time to think and—voilà—those are my conclusions. In the great war that will come——”
“It can’t come in our time,” said Martin.
“No? It will come in our time. And sooner than you expect. But when it does come, all that is noble and spiritual in England will be passionately32 French in its sympathies. Tiens, mon ami—” he planted himself at the corner of the dark uphill road that led to the hotel, and brought his great hands down on Martin’s shoulders. “You do not yet understand. You are a wonderful race, you English. But if you were pure Frisians, like the German, you would not be where you are. Nor would you be if you were pure Latins. What has made you invincible33 is the interfusion since a thousand years of all that is best in Frisian and Latin. You emerged English after Chaucer—Saxon bone and Latin spirit. That is why, my friend, you hate all that is German. That is why you love now all that is French. And that is why we, nous autres Fran?ais, feel at last that England understands us and is with us.”
Having thus analysed the psychology34 of the Entente35 Cordiale in terms which proceeding36 from the lips of a small English innkeeper would have astounded37 Martin, Bigourdin released him and together they mounted homewards.
“I was forgetting,” said he, as he bade Martin good-night. “All of what I said was to prove that if you were in need of a foster-mother, Périgord will take you to her bosom38.”
“I’ll think of it,” smiled Martin.
He thought of it for five minutes after he had gone to bed and then fell fast asleep.
Early in the morning he was awakened39 by a great thundering at his door. Convinced of catastrophe40, he leaped to his feet and opened. On the threshold the urbane41 figure of Fortinbras confronted him.
“You?” cried Martin.
“Even I. Having embraced Félise, breakfasted, washed and viewed Brant?me proceeding to its daily labours, I thought it high time to arouse you from your unlarklike slumbers42.”
Saying this he passed Martin and drew aside the curtains so that the morning light flooded the room. He was still attired43 in his sober black with the avoué’s white tie which bore the traces of an all-night journey. Then he sat down on the bed, while Martin, in pyjamas44 and bare-foot, took up an irresolute45 position on the cold boards.
“I generally get up a bit later,” said Martin with an air of apology.
“So I gather from my excellent brother-in-law. Well,” said Fortinbras, “how are you faring in Arcadia?”
“Capitally,” replied Martin. “I’ve never felt so fit in my life. But I’m jolly glad you’ve come.”
“You want another consultation46? I am ready to give you one. The usual fee, of course. Oh, not now!” As Martin turned to the dressing47 table where lay a small heap of money, he raised a soft, arresting hand. “The hour is too early for business even in France. I have no doubt Corinna is equally anxious to consult me. How is she?”
“Much the same as usual,” said Martin.
“By which you would imply that she belongs to the present stubborn and stiff-necked generation of young Englishwomen. I hope you haven’t suffered unduly48.”
“I? Oh, Lord, no!” Martin replied, with a laugh. “Corinna goes her way and I go mine. Occasionally when there’s only one way to go—well, it isn’t hers.”
“You’ve put your foot down.”
“At any rate Corinna hasn’t put her foot down on me. I think,” said Martin, rubbing his thinly clad sides meditatively49, “my journey with Corinna has not been without profit to myself. I’ve made a discovery.”
He paused.
“My dear young friend,” said Fortinbras, “let me hear it.”
Fortinbras passed his hand over his broad forehead and his silver mane and regarded the young man acutely. Whatever possibilities he might have seen of a romantic attachment51 between the pair of derelicts no longer existed. Martin had taken cool measure of Corinna and was not the least in love with her. The Dealer52 in Happiness smiled in his benevolent53 way.
“Although in your present ruffled and unshorn state you’re not looking your best, you’re a different man from my client of two months ago.”
“Thanks to your advice,” said Martin, “my three weeks’ journey put me into gorgeous health and here I’ve been living in clover.”
“And the environment does not seem to be unfavourable to moral and intellectual development.”
“That’s Bigourdin and his friends,” cried Martin. “He is a splendid fellow, a liberal education.”
“He’s an apostle of sanity54,” replied Fortinbras with an approving nod. “Meanwhile sanity would not recommend your standing55 about in this chilly56 air with nothing on. I will converse57 with you while you dress.”
“I’ll have my tub at once,” said Martin.
He disappeared into the famous bathroom and after a few moments returned and made his toilet while he gossiped with Fortinbras of the things he had learned at the Café de l’Univers.
“It’s a funny thing,” said he, “but I can’t make Corinna see it.”
“She’s Parisianised,” replied Fortinbras. “In Paris we see things in false perspective. All the little finnicky people of the hour, artists, writers, politicians are so close to us that they loom23 up like mountains. You learn more of France in a week at Brant?me than in a year at Paris, because here there’s nothing to confuse your sense of values. Happy young man to live in Brant?me!”
He sighed and, seeing that Martin was ready, rose and accompanied him downstairs. Félise, fresh and dainty, with heightened colour and gladness in her eyes due to the arrival of the adored father, poured out Martin’s coffee. They were old-fashioned in the H?tel des Grottes, and drank coffee out of generous bowls without handles, beside which, on the plate, rested great spoons for such sops58 of bread as might be thrown therein.
“It is as you like it?” she asked in her pretty, clipped English.
“It’s always the best coffee I have ever drunk,” smiled Martin. He looked up at Fortinbras lounging in the wooden chair usually occupied by Corinna. “Do you know, Mr. Fortinbras, that Mademoiselle Félise has so spoilt me with food and drink that I shall never be able to face an English lodging-house meal again?”
Fortinbras passed his arm round his daughter’s waist and drew her to him affectionately.
“She would spoil me too, if she had the chance. It is astonishing what capability59 there is in this little body.”
Félise, yielding to the caress60, touched her father’s hair. “It’s like mamman, when she was young, n’est-ce pas?” She spoke61 in French which came more readily.
“Yes,” said Fortinbras, in a deep voice. “Just like your mother.”
“I try to resemble her. Tu sais, every time I feel I am lazy or missing my duties, I think of mamman, and I say, ‘No, I will not be unworthy of her.’ And so that gives me courage.”
“I’ve heard so much of Mrs. Fortinbras,” said Martin, “that I seem to know her intimately.”
A smile of great tenderness and sadness crept into Fortinbras’s eyes as he turned them on his daughter.
“It is good that you still think and speak so much of her. Ideals keep the soul winged for flight. If it flies away into the empyrean and comes to grief like Icarus and his later fellow pioneers in aviation, at least it has done something.”
He released her and she sped away on her duties. Presently she returned with a scared face.
“Monsieur Martin, what has happened? Here is Corinna going to leave us this morning.”
“Corinna going? Does she know I’m here?” asked Fortinbras in wonderment.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. I did not dream that she was up—she generally rises so late. But she has told Baptiste to take down her boxes for the omnibus to catch the early train for Paris. Mon Dieu, what has happened to drive her away?”
“Perhaps the visit yesterday of Monsieur Camille Fargot,” said Martin.
“Eh?” said Fortinbras sharply. Then turning to Félise. “Go, my dear, and lay my humble62 homage63 at the feet of Mademoiselle Corinna and say that as I have travelled for nearly a day and a night in order to see her, I crave64 her courtesy so far as to defer65 her departure until I can have speech with her. You can also tell Baptiste that I’ll break his neck if he touches those boxes. The omnibus might also anticipate its usual hour of starting.”
Félise departed. Fortinbras lit a cigarette, and holding it between his fingers, frowned at it.
“I fancy she sent for him,” said Martin. “I suppose I had better tell you all about it. I haven’t as yet—because it was none of my business.”
“Proceed,” said Fortinbras, and Martin told him of the famous balance-striking and of Corinna’s subsequent behaviour, including last night’s retirement67 into solitude68 after her mysterious interview with the spawn of nothingness.
“Good,” said Fortinbras, when Martin had finished. “Very good. And what had my excellent brother-in-law to say to it?”
“Your excellent brother-in-law,” replied Martin, with a smile, “seems to be a very delicate-minded gentleman.”
Fortinbras did not press the subject. Waiting for Corinna, they talked of casual things. Martin, now a creature of health and appetite, devoured69 innumerable rolls and absorbed many bowls of coffee, to the outspoken70 admiration71 of Fortinbras. But still Corinna did not come. Then Martin filled a pipe of caporal and, smoking it with gusto, told Fortinbras more of what he had learned at the Café de l’Univers. He expressed his wonder at the people’s lack of enthusiasm for their political leaders.
“The adventurer politician is the curse of this country,” said Fortinbras. “He insinuates72 himself into every government. He is out for plunder73 and his hand is at the throat of patriotic74 ministers, and he strangles France, while into his pockets through devious75 channels filters a fine stream of German gold.”
“I can’t believe it,” cried Martin.
“Oh! He isn’t a traitor76 in the sense of being suborned by a foreign Power. He is far too subtle. But he knows what policy will affect the world’s exchanges to his profit; and that policy he advocates.”
“A gangrene in the body politic,” said Martin.
On this, in marched Corinna dressed for travel, with a little embroidered77 bag slung78 over her arm. She crossed the room, her head up, her chin in the air, defiant79 as usual, and shook hands with Fortinbras.
“I’ve come as you asked,” she said. “But let us be quick with the talking, as I’ve got to catch a train.”
“Sit down,” said Fortinbras, setting a chair for her.
She obeyed and there the three of them were sitting once more round a table in an empty dining room. But this time it was a cloudy morning in early November, in the heart of France, the distant mountains across the town half-veiled in mist, and a fine rain falling. Gusts80 of raw air came in through the open terrace window at the end of the room.
“So, my dear Corinna,” said Fortinbras, “you have not waited for the second consultation which was part of our programme.”
“That’s your fault, not mine,” said Corinna. “I expected you weeks ago.”
“Doubtless. But your expectation was no reason for my coming weeks ago. My undertaking81, however, was a reason for your continuing to expect me and being certain that sooner or later I should come.”
“To ask you, my dear Corinna,” replied Fortinbras, in his persuasive83 tones, “why you have disregarded my advice?”
“And what was your advice?”
“To do nothing headstrong, violent and lunatic until we met again.”
“You should have come sooner. I find I am living now on Martin’s charity and the time has come to put all this rubbish aside and go home to my people with my tail between my legs. It’s vastly pleasant, I assure you.”
“Oh, young woman of little faith!—Why did you not put your trust in me, instead of in callow medical students with ridiculous mothers?”
Corinna flushed crimson84 and her eyes hardened in anger. “I suppose every gossiping tongue in this horrid85 little hotel has been wagging. That’s why I’m going off now, so that they can wag in my absence.”
“But my dear Penthesilea,” said Fortinbras soothingly86, “why get so angry? Every living soul in this horrid hotel is on your side. They would give their eyes and ears to help you and sympathise with you and shew you that they love you.”
“I don’t want their sympathy,” said Corinna stubbornly.
“Or any human expression of affection or regret? You want just to pay your bill like any young woman in an automobile87 who has put up for the night and go your way?”
“No. I don’t. But I’ve been damnably treated and I want to get away back to England.”
“Who has treated you damnably here?” asked Fortinbras.
“Don’t be idiotic,” cried Corinna. “Everybody here has been simply angelic to me—even Martin.”
“On the whole I think I’ve behaved fairly decently since we started out together,” Martin observed.
“At any rate you act according to the instincts of a gentleman,” she admitted.
Fortinbras leaned back in his chair and drew a breath of relief.
“I’m glad to perceive that this hurried departure is not an elopement.”
“Elopement!” she echoed. “Do you think I’d——”
Fortinbras checked her with his uplifted hand. “Sh! Would you like me to tell you in a few words everything that has happened?” He bent88 his intellectual brow upon her and held her with his patient, tired eyes. “Being at the end of your resources, not desiring to share in the vagabond’s pool with Martin, and losing faith in my professional pledge, you bethink you of the young popinjay with whom, in your independent English innocence89, but to the scandal of his French relatives, you have flaunted90 it in the restaurants and theatres of Paris. Il vous a conté fleurette. He has made his little love to you. All honour and no blame to him. At his age”—he bowed—“I would have done the same. You correspond on the sentimental91 plane. But in all his correspondence you will find not one declaration in form.”
Corinna mechanically peeled off her gloves. Fortinbras drew a whiff of his cigarette. He continued:—
“You think of him as a possible husband: I am frank—it is my profession to be so. But your heart,”—he pointed92 dramatically to her bosom—“has never had a flutter. You don’t deny it. Good. In your extremity93, as you think, you send him an urgent telegram, such as no man of human feeling could disregard. He borrows his cousin’s husband’s motor-car and obeys your summons. You interview him in yonder little fly-blown, suffocating94 salon. You put your case before him—with no matter what feminine delicacy. He perceives that he is confronted with a claim for a demand in marriage. He draws back. He cannot by means of any quirk95 or quibble of French law marry you without his parent’s consent. This they would never give, having their own well-matured and irrefragable plans. Marriage is as impossible as immediate8 canonization. ‘But,’ says he, ‘we are both young. We love each other, we shall both be in the quartier for time indefinite’—time is never definite, thank God, to youth—‘Why should we not set up housekeeping together? I have enough for both—and let the future take care of itself.’?”
Corinna rose and looked at him haggardly and clutched him by the shoulder.
“How, in the name of God, do you know that? Who told you? Who overheard that little beast propose that I should go and live with him as his mistress?”
Fortinbras patted the white-knuckled hand and smiled, as he looked up into her tense face. “Do you suppose, my dear child, that I have been the father confessor of half the Rive Gauche96 for twenty years without knowing something of the ways of the Rive Gauche? without knowing something, not exactly of international, but say of multi-national codes of social observance, morality, honour, and so forth, and how they clash, correspond and interact? I know the two international forces—yours and Camille Fargot’s, converging97 on the matrimonial point—and with simple certainty I tell you the resultant. It’s like a schoolboy’s exercise in mathematics.”
She freed herself and sat down again dejectedly. Everything had happened as Fortinbras declared. His only omission98, to repair which she had not given him time, was the scene of flaming indignation incident to Camille Fargot’s dismissal. And his psychology was correct. The young man’s charming love-making had flattered her, had indeed awakened foolish hopes; but she had never cared a button for him. Now she loathed99 him with a devastating100 hate. She thrummed with her fingers on the table.
“What is there left for me to do?”
“Ah, now,” said Fortinbras genially101, “we’re talking sense. Now we come to our famous second professional consultation.”
“Go ahead then,” said Corinna.
“I mentioned the word ‘professional,’?” Fortinbras remarked.
Martin laughed and put a ten-franc piece into the soft open palm.
“I’ll pay for both,” said he.
“It’s like having your fortune told at a fair,” said Corinna. “But hurry up!” she glanced at her watch. “As it is, I shan’t have time to pay my bill. Will you see after it?” she drew from her bag one of the borrowed notes and threw it across to Martin. “Well, I am all attention. I can give you three minutes.”
But just then a familiar sound of scrunching102 wheels came through the open doors of the vestibule and dining-room. She started.
“That’s the omnibus going.”
“The omnibus gone,” said Fortinbras.
“I’ll miss my train.”
“You will,” said Fortinbras.
“My luggage has gone with it.”
“It has not,” said Fortinbras. “I gave instructions that it should not be brought down.”
Corinna gasped103. “Of all the cool impertinence——!” She looked at her watch again. “And the beastly thing has started long before its time!”
“At my request,” said Fortinbras. “And now, as there is no possibility of your getting away from Brant?me for several hours, perhaps you might, with profit, abandon your attitude of indignation and listen to the voice of reason.”
“By the way,” said Martin, “have you had your petit déjeuner?”
“Good God!” cried Fortinbras, holding up his hands, “and they let women run about loose!”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
entrenched
|
|
| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
wane
|
|
| n.衰微，亏缺，变弱；v.变小，亏缺，呈下弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
nourishment
|
|
| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
curtly
|
|
| adv.简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
perturbed
|
|
| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
salon
|
|
| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
morbid
|
|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
asphyxiation
|
|
| n. 窒息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
narrated
|
|
| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
fin
|
|
| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
exultantly
|
|
| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
coterie
|
|
| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
dice
|
|
| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
augury
|
|
| n.预言，征兆，占卦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
ruffled
|
|
| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
scudded
|
|
| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
loom
|
|
| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
forefathers
|
|
| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
subtlety
|
|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
invincible
|
|
| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
psychology
|
|
| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
entente
|
|
| n.协定；有协定关系的各国 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
astounded
|
|
| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
urbane
|
|
| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
slumbers
|
|
| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
pyjamas
|
|
| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
irresolute
|
|
| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
unduly
|
|
| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
meditatively
|
|
| adv.冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
dealer
|
|
| n.商人，贩子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
chilly
|
|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
converse
|
|
| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
sops
|
|
| n.用以慰藉或讨好某人的事物( sop的名词复数 )；泡湿的面包片等v.将（面包等）在液体中蘸或浸泡( sop的第三人称单数 )；用海绵、布等吸起（液体等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
capability
|
|
| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
caress
|
|
| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
homage
|
|
| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
crave
|
|
| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
defer
|
|
| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
spawn
|
|
| n.卵，产物，后代，结果；vt.产卵，种菌丝于，产生，造成；vi.产卵，大量生产 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
devoured
|
|
| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
outspoken
|
|
| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
insinuates
|
|
| n.暗示( insinuate的名词复数 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入v.暗示( insinuate的第三人称单数 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
plunder
|
|
| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
patriotic
|
|
| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
devious
|
|
| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
traitor
|
|
| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
embroidered
|
|
| adj．绣花的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
defiant
|
|
| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
gusts
|
|
| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
persuasive
|
|
| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
soothingly
|
|
| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
automobile
|
|
| n.汽车，机动车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
flaunted
|
|
| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
suffocating
|
|
| a.使人窒息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
quirk
|
|
| n.奇事，巧合；古怪的举动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
gauche
|
|
| adj.笨拙的，粗鲁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
converging
|
|
| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
omission
|
|
| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
loathed
|
|
| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
devastating
|
|
| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
genially
|
|
| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
scrunching
|
|
| v.发出喀嚓声( scrunch的现在分词 )；蜷缩；压；挤压 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |