Martin opened the shutters10 of the window and looked out. It was hard moonlight. Beneath him shimmered11 a broad ribbon of water, against which were silhouetted12 outlandish masts and spars of craft moored13 against the embankment. The dark mass on the further shore seemed to be pleasant woods. The water could be nothing else than the Nile; the sacred river; the first river in which he had taken a romantic interest, on account of Moses and the Ark and Pharaoh’s daughter; the mighty14 river which is the very life of a vast country; the most famous river in the world. He regarded it with a curious mixture of awe15 and disappointment. On his right it was crossed by a bridge dotted with the slowly moving lamps of carts and now and then flashing with the headlights of a motor-car. It was not unlike any ordinary river—the Thames, the Seine, the Rhone at Geneva. He had imagined it broad as the Amazon.
Yet it was wonderful; the historic water, the moonlight, the clear Egyptian air in which floated a vague perfume of spice, the dimly seen long-robed figures seated on a bench by the parapet on the other side of the road, whose guttural talk rose like a proclamation of the Orient. He leaned out over the iron railing. On his left stood out dreamily defined against the sky two shadowy little triangles. He wondered what they could be. Suddenly came the shock of certainty. They were the Pyramids. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. A thrill ran over his skin. He had not counted on being brought up bang, as it were, against them. He had imagined that one journeyed for half a day on a camel through a trackless desert in order to visit these wonders of the world: but here he was staring at them from the hotel-window of a luxurious16 capital. He stared at them for a long time. Yes: there was the Nile; there were the Pyramids; and, after a knock at the door, there was his luggage. He became conscious of hunger; also of Lucilla more splendid than moonlit Nile and Pyramids and all the splendours of Egypt put together. Hunger—it was half-past nine and he had eaten nothing since lunch on ship-board—counselled speedy ablutions and a descent in quest of food. Lucilla ordained17 correctitude of vesture. His first evening on board ship had taught him that dinner jacket suit and black tie were the only wear. He changed and went downstairs.
A chasseur informed him that Miss Merriton was staying in the hotel, but that she had gone to the dance at the Savoy. When would she be back? The chasseur, a child rendered old by accumulated knowledge of trivial fact, replied that Cairo was very gay this season, that dances went on till the morning hours, and insinuated19 that Miss Merriton was as gay as anybody. Martin walked through the lounge into the restaurant and supped. He supped exceedingly well. Bearing in mind Fortinbras’s counsel of lordliness and the ways of lordly motorists passing through Brant?me, he ordered a pint20 of champagne21. He was served by an impeccable waiter with lilac revers and brass22 buttons to his coat. He noted23 the livery with a professional eye. The restaurant was comparatively empty. Only at one table sat a party of correctly dressed men and women. A few others were occupied by his travelling companions, still in the garb24 of travel. Martin mellowed25 by the champagne, adjusted his black tie and preened26 his white shirt front, in the hope that the tweed-clad newcomers would see him and marvel27 and learn from him, Martin Overshaw, obscure and ignorant adventurer, what was required by English decorum. After his meal he sat in the lounge and ordered Turkish coffee, liqueur brandy and cigarettes. And so, luxuriously28 housed, clothed and fed, he entered on the newest phase of his new life.
Six months ago he had considered his sportive ride through France with Corinna a thrilling adventure. He smiled at his simplicity29. An adventure, that tame jog-trot tour! As comparable to this as his then companion to the radiant lady of his present quest. Now, indeed, he had burned his boats, thrown his cap over the windmills, cast his frock to the nettles30. The reckless folly31 of it all had kept his veins32 a-tingle, his head awhirl. At every moment during the past fortnight something amazingly new had flashed into his horizon. The very sleeping-berth33 in the train de luxe had been a fresh experience. So too was the awakening34 to the warmth and sunshine of Marseilles. Save for a crowded hour of inglorious life (he was a poor sailor) now and then on cross-channel boats he had never set foot on a ship. He wandered about the ocean-going liner with a child’s delight. Fortune favoured him with a spell of blue weather. He scoffed35 at sea-sickness. The meals characterised by many passengers as abominable36, he devoured37 as though they were Lucullian feasts. He made acquaintance with folks going not only to Egypt, but to Peshawar and Mandalay and Singapore and other places with haunting names. Some shocked him by calling them God-forsaken holes and cursing their luck. Others, mainly women, going thither38 for the first time shared his emotions. . . . He was surprised at the ease with which he fell into casual talk with strangers. Sometimes a child was a means of introduction to its mother. Sometimes a woman in the next deck-chair would open a conversation. Sometimes Fortinbras chatting with a knot of people would catch him as he passed and present him blandly39.
Among the minor40 things that gave him cause for wonder was the swift popularity of his companion. No longer did his costume stamp Fortinbras as a man apart from the laity41. He wore the easy tweeds and soft felt hat of a score of other elderly gentlemen on board: even the gold watch-chain, which he had redeemed42 after a long, long sojourn43 at the Mount of Piety44. But this very commonplace of his attire45 brought into relief the nobility of his appearance. His massive face lined with care, his broad brow, his prominent light blue kindly46 eyes, his pursy and benevolent47 mouth, his magnificent Abbé Liszt shock of white hair, now carefully tended, his impressive air of dignity—all marked him as a personage of distinction. He aroused the idle curiosity of the idle voyagers. Husbands were bidden by wives to talk to him and see what he was like. Husbands obeyed, as is the human though marriage-vow-subversive way of husbands, and meekly48 returned with information. A capital fellow; most interesting chap; English of course; very courtly old bird; like so-and-so who was Ambassador; old school; knows everything; talks like a book. Quoth any one of the wives, her woman’s mind intent on the particular. “But who is he?” The careless husband, his masculine mind merely concerned with the general, did not know. He had not thought of asking. How could he ask? And what did it matter? The wife sighed. “Bring him along and I will soon find out.” Fortinbras at fit opportunity was brought along. The lady unconsciously surrendered to his spell—one has not practised as a marchand de bonheur for nothing. “Now I know all about him,” said any one of the wives to any one of the husbands. “Why are men so stupid? He is an old Winchester boy. He is a retired philosopher and he lives in France.” That was all she learned about Fortinbras; but Fortinbras in that trial interview learned everything about the lady serenely49 unconscious of intimate avowal50.
“My young friend,” said he to Martin, “the secret of social influence is to present yourself to each individual rather as a sympathetic intelligence, than as a forceful personality. The patient takes no interest in the morbid51 symptoms of his physician: but every patient is eager to discuss his symptoms with the kindly physician who will listen to them free, gratis52 and for nothing. By adopting this attitude I can evoke53 from one the dramatic ambitions of her secret heart, from another the history of her children’s ailments54 and the recipe for the family cough-cure, from a third the moving story of strained relations with his parents because he desired to marry his uncle’s typist, the elderly crown and glory of her sex, and from a fourth an intricate account of a peculiarly shady deal in lard.”
“That sounds all right,” said Martin; “but in order to get people to talk to you—say in the four cases you have mentioned, you must know something about the theatre, bronchitis, love and the lard-trade.”
Martin, following the precepts57 of his Mentor58, practised the arts of fence, parrying the thrusts of personal questions on the part of his opponent and riposting with such questions on his own.
“It is necessary,” said the sage59. “What are you among these respectable Britons of substance, but an adventurer? Put yourself at the mercy of one of these old warriors60 with grey motor-veils and steel knitting needles and she will pluck out the heart of your mystery in a jiffy and throw it on the deck for all to feed on.”
Thus the voyage—incidentally was it not to Cyth?ra?—transcended all his dreams of social amenity61. It was a long protracted62 party in which he lost his shyness, finding frank welcome on all sides. To the man of thirty who had been deprived, all his man’s life, of the commonplace general intercourse63 with his kind, this daily talk with a girl here, a young married woman there, an old lady somewhere else, and all sorts and conditions of men in the smoking room and on deck, was nothing less than a kind of social debauch64, intoxicating65 him, keeping him blissfully awake of nights in his upper berth, while Fortinbras snored below. Then soon after daybreak, to mount to the wet, sunlit deck after his cold, sea-water bath; perhaps to meet a hardy66 and healthy English girl, fresh as the ?gean morning; to tramp up and down with her for development of appetite, talking of nothing but the glitter of the sea, the stuffiness67 of cabins, the dishes they each would choose for breakfast; to descend68 into the warm, comforting smell of the dining-saloon; to fall voraciously69 on porridge and eggs and kidneys and marmalade; to go on deck again knowing that in a couple of hours’ time stewards70 would come to him fainting from hunger with bowls of chicken broth71, that in an hour or two afterwards there would be lunch to be selected from a menu a foot long in close print, and so on during the golden and esurient day; to meet Fortinbras, late and luxurious riser; to bask72 for an hour, like a plum, in the sunshine of his wisdom; to continue the debauch of the day before; to sight great sailing vessels73 with bellying74 canvas, resplendent majesty75 of past centuries, or, on the other hand, the grey grim blocks of battleships; to pass the sloping shores of historic islands—Crete, home of the Minotaur, whose inhabitants—(Cretans are liars76. Cretans are men. Therefore all men are liars)—had furnished the stock example of fallacy in the Syllogism77; to watch the green wake cleaving78 the dark-blue sea; to make his way up and down decks, through the steerage, and stand in the bows, swept by the exhilarating air, with the pulse racking sense that he was speeding to the lodestar of his one desire—to find wildness of delight in these commonplaces of travel; to live as he lived, to vibrate as he vibrated with every nerve from dawn to dawn, to be drunk with the sheer ecstasy79 of existence, so that the past becomes a black abyss, and the future an amethystine80 haze81 glorified82 by the Sons of the Morning singing for joy, is given but to few, is given to none but poor, starved souls, is given to none of the poor, starved souls but those whom the high Gods in obedience83 to their throw of the dice84 happen to select.
Martin sitting in a deep armchair in the Semiramis Hotel dreamed of all these things, unconscious of the flight of time. Suddenly he became aware that he was the only occupant of the lounge, all the other folk having returned soberly to their rooms. Already a few early arrivals from the Savoy dance passed across the outer hall on their way to the lift. Drowsy85 with happiness he went to bed. To-morrow, Lucilla.
He became aware of her standing86 by the bureau licking a stamp to put on a letter. She wore a white coat and skirt and a straw hat with cherries on it. He could not see her face, but he guessed the blue veins on the uplifted, ungloved hand that held the stamp. On his approach, she turned and uttered a little laughing gasp87 of recognition, stuck the stamp on hastily and stretched out her hand.
“Why,” she cried, “it’s you! You really have come!”
“Did you think I would break my promise?” he asked, his eyes drinking in her beauty.
“I didn’t know how seriously you regarded it.”
“I’ve thought of nothing but Egypt, since I said you had pointed88 out the way,” he replied. “You commanded. I obeyed.”
She caught up her long parasol and gloves that lay on the ledge18 of the bureau. “If everybody did everything I told them,” she laughed, “I should have my hands full. They don’t, as a general rule, but when they do I take it as a compliment. It makes me feel good to see you. When did you come?”
She put him through a short catechism. What boat? What kind of voyage? Where was he staying? . . . Finally:
“Do you know many people in Cairo?”
“Not a soul,” said Martin.
With both arms behind her back, she rested lightly on the parasol, and beamed graciously.
“I know millions,” she said, not without a touch of exaggeration which pleased him. “Would you like to trust yourself to me, put yourself entirely89 in my hands?”
“I could dream of nothing more enchanting,” replied Martin. “But——”
“But——?”
“I don’t want to make myself an infliction90.”
“You’re going to be a delight. You know in the cinematograph how an invisible pencil writes things on the sheet—or how a message is stamped out on the tape, and you look and wonder what’s coming next. Well, I want to see how this country is going to be stamped letter by letter on your virgin91 mind. It’s a thing I’ve been longing92 for—to show somebody with sense like yourself, Egypt of the Pharaohs and Egypt of the English. How long can you stay?”
“Indefinitely,” said Martin. “I have no plans.”
“From here you might go to Honolulu or Rangoon?”
She nodded smiling approval. “That is what I call a free and enlightened Citizen of the World. Let us sit down. I’m waiting for my friend, Mrs. Dangerfield of Philadelphia. Her husband’s here too. You will like them. I generally travel round with somebody, just for the sake of a table-companion. I’m silly enough to feel a fool eating alone every day in a restaurant.”
He drew a wicker chair for her and sat beside her. She deposited parasol and gloves on the little round table, and swept him with a quizzical glance from his well-fitting brown shoes to his trim black hair.
“May I without impertinence compliment you on your colour-scheme?”
His olive cheek flushed like a girl’s. He had devoted94 an hour’s concentrated thought to it before he rose. How should he appear in the presence of the divinity? He had decided95 on grey flannels96, grey shirt, purple socks and tie. He wondered whether she guessed the part she had played in his anxious selection. Remembering the splotch of grease, he said:
“I hadn’t much choice of clothes when you last saw me.”
She laughed. “Tell me all about Brant?me. How is my dear little friend Félise?”
“You’ll doubtless soon be able to judge for yourself. He’s here.”
“In Cairo? You don’t say!”
Mingled98 with her expression of surprise was a little perplexity of the brow, as though, seeing the Fortinbras of the Petit Cornichon, she wondered what on earth she could do with him.
“He came with me,” said Martin.
“Is he staying in this hotel?”
“No,” said Martin.
Her brow grew smooth again. “How did he manage to get all this way? Has he retired from business?”
“I don’t think so. He needed a holiday. You see he came into a little money on the death of his wife.”
“His wife dead?” Lucilla queried99. “Félise’s mother? I didn’t know. Perhaps that’s why she hasn’t written to me for such a long time. I think there must be some queer story connected with that mother,” she added shrewdly. “Anyway, Fortinbras can’t be broken-hearted, or he wouldn’t come on a jaunt100 to Egypt.”
Too well-bred to examine Martin on his friend’s private affairs, she changed the talk in her quick, imperious way. Martin sat like a man bewitched, fascinated by her remembered beauties—the lazy music of her voice, her mobile lips, her brown eyelashes. . . . His heart beat at the realisation of so many dreams. He listened, his brain scarcely following what she said; that she spoke101 with the tongue of an angel was enough.
Presently a stout102, pleasant-faced woman of thirty came towards them with many apologies for lateness. This was Mrs. Dangerfield. Lucilla presented Martin.
“Behold in me the complete dragoman. Mr. Overshaw has engaged me for the season. It’s his first visit to Egypt and I’m going to show him round. I’ll draw up a programme for a personally conducted tour, every hour accounted for and replete103 with distraction104.”
“It sounds dreadful,” laughed Mrs. Dangerfield. “Do you think you’ll survive, Mr. Overshaw?”
“Not only that,” said Martin, “but I hope for a new lease of life.”
“We start,” said Lucilla, “with a drive through the town, during which I shall point out the Kasr-el-Nil Barracks, the Bank of Egypt and the Opera House. Then we shall enter on the shopping expedition in the Mousky, where I shall prevent Mrs. Dangerfield from being robbed while bargaining for Persian lacq. I’m ready, Laura, if you are.”
She led the way out. Martin exchanging words of commonplace with Mrs. Dangerfield, followed in an ecstasy. Did ever woman, outside Botticelli’s Primavera, walk with such lissomeness? A chasseur turned the four-flanged doors and they emerged into the clear morning sunshine. The old bearded Arab carriage porter called an hotel arabeah from the stand. But while the driver, correct in metal-buttoned livery coat and tarbush, was dashing up with his pair, Martin caught sight of Fortinbras walking towards them.
“There he is,” said Martin.
“Who?”
“Fortinbras.”
“Nonsense,” said Lucilla. “That’s an English Cabinet Minister, or an American millionaire, or the keeper of a gambling105 saloon.”
But when he came nearer, she admitted it was Fortinbras. She waved her hand in recognition. Nothing could have been more charming than her greeting; nothing more urbane than his acknowledgment, or his bow, on introduction to Mrs. Dangerfield. He had come, said he, to lay his respectful homage106 at her feet; also to see how his young friend was faring in a strange land. Lucilla asked him where he was staying.
She eyed him, smiling: “You look more like the wanton lapwing.”
“But ‘Merest Twig, Cairo,’ isn’t an address,” cried Lucilla. “How am I to get hold of you when I want you?”
Fortinbras regarded her with humorous benevolence109. The question was characteristic. He knew her to be generous, warm-hearted and impatient of trivial convention: therefore he had not hesitated to go to her in his anxious hour; but he also knew how those long delicate fingers had an irresistible110 habit of drawing unwary humans into her harmless web. He had not come to Cairo just to walk into Lucilla’s parlour. He wanted to buzz about Egypt in philosophic111 and economical independence.
“That, my dear Lucilla,” said he, “is one more enigma112 to be put to the credit of the Land of Riddles113.”
Ibrahim stood impassively holding open the door of the arabeah. A couple of dragomen in resplendent robes and turbans, seeing a new and prosperous English tourist, had risen from their bench on the other side of the road and lounged gracefully114 forward.
“You’re the most exasperating115 person I ever met,” exclaimed Lucilla. “But while I have you, I’m going to keep you. Come to lunch at one-fifteen. If you don’t I’ll never speak to you again.”
“I’ll come to lunch at one-fifteen, with very great pleasure,” said Fortinbras.
The ladies entered the carriage. Martin said hastily:
“You gave me the slip last night.”
“I did,” said Fortinbras. He drew the young man a pace aside, and whispered: “You think those are doves harnessed to the chariot. They’re not. They’re horses.”
Martin broke away with a laugh, and sprang to the back seat of the carriage. It drove off. The dragoman came up to the lonely Fortinbras. Did he want a guide? The Citadel116, the Pyramids, Sakkara? Fortinbras turned to the impassive Ibrahim and in his grand manner and with impressive gesture said:
“Will you tell them they are too beautiful. They would eclipse the splendour of all the monuments I am here to visit.”
He walked away and Ibrahim, translating roughly to the dragomen, conveyed uncomplimentary references to the virtue117 of their grandmothers.
Meanwhile Martin, in beatitude, sat on the little seat, facing his goddess. She was an integral part of the exotic setting of Cairo. It was less real life than an Arabian Night’s tale. She was interfused with all the sunshine and colour and wonder. Only the camels padding along in single file, their bodies half hidden beneath packs of coarse grass, seemed alien to her. They held up their heads, as the carriage passed them, with a damnably supercilious118 air. One of them seemed to catch his eye and express contempt unfathomable. He shook a fist at him.
“I hate those brutes,” said he.
“Good gracious! Why?” asked Lucilla. “They’re so picturesque119! A camel is the one thing I really can draw properly.”
He could not translate his unformulated thought into conventional words. But he knew that at the summons of the high gods all the world of animate121 beings would fall down and worship her: every breathing thing but the camel. He hated the camel.
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horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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urbane
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| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
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jerseys
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| n.运动衫( jersey的名词复数 ) | |
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flaunted
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| 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 | |
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oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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silhouetted
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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ledge
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insinuated
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pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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noted
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garb
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mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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preened
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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luxuriously
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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nettles
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folly
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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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berth
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awakening
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scoffed
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abominable
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devoured
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| 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 | |
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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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blandly
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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laity
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| n.俗人；门外汉 | |
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redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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piety
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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46
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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47
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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48
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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49
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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50
avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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51
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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52
gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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53
evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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54
ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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55
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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56
altruist
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| n.利他主义者，爱他主义者 | |
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57
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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58
mentor
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| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
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59
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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60
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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61
amenity
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| n.pl.生活福利设施，文娱康乐场所；（不可数）愉快，适意 | |
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62
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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63
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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64
debauch
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| v.使堕落，放纵 | |
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65
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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66
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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67
stuffiness
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| n.不通风，闷热；不通气 | |
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68
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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69
voraciously
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| adv.贪婪地 | |
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70
stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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71
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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72
bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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73
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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74
bellying
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| 鼓出部；鼓鼓囊囊 | |
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75
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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76
liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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77
syllogism
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| n.演绎法，三段论法 | |
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78
cleaving
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| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的现在分词 ) | |
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79
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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80
amethystine
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| adj.紫水晶质的，紫色的；紫晶 | |
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81
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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82
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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83
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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84
dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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85
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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86
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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87
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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88
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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89
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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90
infliction
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| n.（强加于人身的）痛苦，刑罚 | |
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91
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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92
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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93
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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94
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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95
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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96
flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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97
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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98
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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99
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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100
jaunt
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| v.短程旅游；n.游览 | |
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101
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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103
replete
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| adj.饱满的，塞满的；n.贮蜜蚁 | |
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104
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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105
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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106
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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107
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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108
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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109
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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110
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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111
philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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112
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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113
riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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114
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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115
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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116
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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117
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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118
supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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119
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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120
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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121
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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