SEXT
In which Adso receives the confidences of Salvatore, which cannot be summarized in a few words, but which cause him long and concerned meditation1.
As I was eating, I saw Salvatore in one corner, obvious?ly having made his peace with the cook, for he was merrily devouring2 a mutton pie. He ate as if he had never eaten before in his life, not letting even a crumb3 fall, and he seemed to be giving thanks to God for this extraordinary event.
He winked4 at me and said, in that bizarre language of his, that he was eating for all the years when he had fasted. I questioned him. He told me of a very painful childhood in a village where the air was bad, the rains frequent, where the fields rotted while the air was polluted by deathly miasmas5. There were floods, or so I understood, season after season, when the fields had no furrows6 and with a bushel of seed you harvested a sextary, and then the sextary was reduced to nothing. Even the overlords had white faces like the poor, although, Salvatore remarked, the poor died in greater numbers than the gentry7 did, perhaps (he smiled) because there were more of them. ... A sextary cost fifteen pence, a bushel sixty pence, the preachers an?nounced the end of the world, but Salvatore’s parents and grandparents remembered the same story in the past as well, so they came to the conclusion that the world was always about to end. And after they had eaten all the bird carcasses and all the unclean animals they could find, there was a rumor8 in the village that somebody was beginning to dig up the dead. Salvatore explained with great dramatic ability, as if he were an actor, how those “homeni malissimi” behaved, the wick?ed men who scrabbled with their fingers in the earth of the cemeteries9 the day after somebody’s funeral. “Yum!” he said, and bit into his mutton pie, but I could see on his face the grimace10 of the desperate man eating the corpse11. And then, not content with digging in consecrat?ed ground, some, worse than the others, like highwaymen, crouched12 in the forest and took travelers by surprise. “Thwack!” Salvatore said, holding his knife to his throat, and “Nyum!” And the worst among the worst accosted13 boys, offering an egg or an apple, and then devoured14 them, though, as Salvatore explained to me very gravely, always cooking them first. He told of a man who came to the village selling cooked meat for a few pence, and nobody could understand this great stroke of luck, but then the priest said it was human flesh, and the man was torn to pieces by the infuriated crowd. That same night, however, one man from the village went and dug up the grave of the murdered victim and ate the flesh of the cannibal, whereupon, since he was discovered, the village put him to death, too.
But Salvatore did not tell me only this tale. In broken words, obliging me to recall what little I knew of Proven?al and of Italian dialects, he told me the story of his flight from his native village and his roaming about the world. And in his story I recognized many men I had already known or encountered along the road, and I now recognize many more that I have met since, so that after all this time I may even attribute to him adventures and crimes that belonged, to others, before him and after him, and which now, to my tired mind, flatten15 out to form a single image. This, in fact, is the power of the imagination, which, combining the memory of gold with that of the mountain, can com?pose the idea of a golden mountain.
Often during our journey I heard William mention “the simple,” a term by which some of his brothers denoted not only the populace but, at the same time, the unlearned. This expression always seemed to me generic16, because in the Italian cities I had met men of trade and artisans who were not clerics but were not unlearned, even if their knowledge was revealed through the use of the vernacular17. And, for that matter, some of the tyrants18 who governed the peninsula at that time were ignorant of theological learning, and medical, and of logic19, and ignorant of Latin, but they were surely not simple or benighted20. So I believe that even my master, when he spoke21 of the simple, was using a rather simple concept. But unquestionably Salvatore was simple. He came from a rural land that for centuries had been subjected to famine and the arrogance22 of the feudal23 lords. He was simple, but he was not a fool. He yearned24 for a different world, which, when he fled from his family’s house, I gathered, assumed the aspect of the land of Cockaigne, where wheels of cheese and aromat?ic sausages grow on the trees that ooze25 honey.
Driven by such a hope, as if refusing to recognize this world as a vale of tears where (as they taught me) even injustice26 is foreordained by Providence27 to maintain the balance of things, whose design often eludes28 us, Salvatore journeyed through various lands, from his native Montferrat toward Liguria, then up through Provence into the lands of the King of France.
Salvatore wandered through the world, begging, pilfering29, pretending to be ill, entering the temporary service of some lord, then again taking to the forest or the high road. From the story he told me, I pictured him among those bands of vagrants30 that in the years that followed I saw more and more often roaming about Europe: false monks33, charlatans34, swindlers, cheats, tramps and tatterdemalions, lepers and cripples, jugglers, invalid35 mercenaries, wandering Jews escaped from the infidels with their spirit broken, lunatics, fugitives36 un?der banishment37, malefactors with an ear cut off, sodomites, and along with them ambulant artisans, weavers38, tinkers, chair-menders, knife-grinders, basket-?weavers, masons, and also rogues39 of every stripe, forgers, scoundrels, cardsharps, rascals40, bullies41, reprobates42, recreants43, frauds, hooligans, simoniacal and embezzling44 canons and priests, people who lived on the credulity of others, counterfeiters of bulls and papal seals, peddlers of indulgences, false paralytics who lay at church doors, vagrants fleeing from convents, relic-sellers, pardoners, soothsayers and fortunetellers, necromancers, healers, bogus alms-seekers, fornicators of every sort, corruptors of nuns46 and maidens47 by deception48 and violence, simula?tors of dropsy, epilepsy, hemorrhoids, gout, and sores, as well as melancholy49 madness. There were those who put plasters on their bodies to imitate incurable50 ulcerations, others who filled their mouths with a blood-colored substance to feign51 accesses of consumption, rascals who pretended to be weak in one of their limbs, carrying unnecessary crutches52 and imitating the falling sickness, scabies, buboes, swellings, while applying bandages, tincture of saffron, carrying irons on their hands, their heads swathed, slipping into the churches stinking53, and suddenly fainting in the squares, spitting saliva54 and popping their eyes, making the nostrils55 spurt56 blood concocted57 of blackberry juice and vermilion, to wrest58 food or money from the frightened people who recalled the church fathers’ exhortations59 to give alms: Share your bread with the hungry, take the homeless to your hearth60, we visit Christ, we house Christ, we clothe Christ, because as water purges61 fire so charity purges our sins.
Long after the events I am narrating62, along the course of the Danube I saw many, and still see some, of these charlatans who had their names and their subdivi?sions in legions, like the devils.
It was like a mire63 that flowed over the paths of our world, and with them mingled64 preachers in good faith, heretics in search of new victims, agitators65 of discord66. It was Pope John—always fearing movements of the sim?ple who might preach and practice poverty—who inveighed67 against the mendicant68 preachers, for, he said, they attracted the curious by raising banners with painted figures, preaching, and extorting69 money. Was the simoniacal and corrupt45 Pope right in considering the mendicant monks preaching poverty the equivalent of bands of outcasts and robbers? In those days, having journeyed a bit in the Italian peninsula, I no longer had firm opinions on the subject: I had heard of the monks of Altopascio, who, when they preached, threat?ened excommunications and promised indulgences, ab?solved those who committed robberies and fratricides, homicides and perjury70, for money; they let it be be?lieved that in their hospital every day up to a hundred Masses were said, for which they collected donations, and they said that with their income they supplied dowries for two hundred poor maidens. And I had heard tales of Brother Paolo Zoppo, who in the forest of Rieti lived as a hermit71 and boasted of having re?ceived directly from the Holy Spirit the revelation that the carnal act was not a sin—so he seduced72 his victims, whom he called sisters, forcing them to submit to the lash73 on their naked flesh, making five genuflections on the ground in the form of a cross, before he presented them to God and claimed from them what he called the kiss of peace. But was it true? And what link was there between these hermits74 who were said to be enlightened and the monks of poor life who roamed the roads of the peninsula really doing penance75, disliked by the clergy76 and the bishops77, whose vices79 and thefts they excoriated80?
From Salvatore’s tale, as it became mingled with the things I already knew from my own experience, these distinctions did not emerge clearly: everything looked the same as everything else. At times he seemed to me one of those crippled beggars of Touraine who, as the story goes, took light at the approach of the miracu?lous corpse of Saint Martin, for they feared the saint would heal them and thus deprive them of their source of income, and the saint mercilessly saved them before they reached the border, punishing their wickedness by restoring to them the use of their limbs. At times, however, the monk32’s ferocious81 face brightened with a sweet glow as he told me how, when living among those bands, he listened to the word of the Franciscan preachers, as outcast as he was, and he understood that the poor and vagabond life he led should be taken, not as a grim necessity, but as a joyous82 act of dedication83, and he joined penitential sects84 and groups whose names he could not pronounce properly and whose doctrine85 he de?fined in highly unlikely terms. I deduced that he had encountered Patarines and Waldensians, and perhaps Catharists, Arnoldists, and Umiliati, and that, roaming about the world, he had passed from one group to another, gradually assuming as a mission his vagrant31 state, and doing for the Lord what he had done till then for his belly86.
But how, and for how long? As far as I could tell, about thirty years before, he had joined a convent of Minorites in Tuscany, and there he had assumed the habit of Saint Francis, without taking orders. There, I believe, he learned that smattering of Latin he spoke, mixing it with the speech of all the places where he had been as a poor homeless wanderer, and of all the vagabond companions he had encountered, from the mercenaries of my lands to the Bogomils of Dalmatia. In the convent he had devoted87 himself to a life of penance, he said (Penitenziagite, he quoted to me, with eyes shining, and I heard again the expression that had aroused William’s curiosity), but apparently88 also the monks he was staying with had confused ideas, because, enraged89 by the canon of the neighboring church, who was accused of thefts and other wickedness, they invad?ed his house one day and sent him flying down the steps, and the sinner died; then they looted his house. For which the bishop78 sent his armed guards, the monks were dispersed90, and Salvatore roamed at length in northern Italy with a band of Fraticelli, or mendicant Minorites, at this point without any law or disci?pline.
From there he took refuge in the Toulouse region and a strange adventure befell him, for he was in?flamed by hearing the story of the crusaders’ great enterprises. A horde91 of shepherds and humble92 folk in great numbers gathered one day to cross the sea and fight against the enemies of the faith. They were called the Pastoureaux, the Shepherds. Actually, they wanted to escape their own wretched land. There were two leaders, who filled their heads with false theories: a priest who had been dismissed from his church because of his conduct, and an apostate93 monk of the order of Saint Benedict. This pair drove ignorant men so mad that they came running after the two in throngs94, even boys of sixteen, against their parents’ wishes, carrying only knapsack and stick, all without money, leaving their fields, to follow the leaders like a flock, and they formed a great crowd. At this point they would no longer heed95 reason or justice, but only power and their own caprice. Gathered together and finally free, with a dim hope of promised lands, they were as if drunk. They stormed through villages and cities, taking everything, and if one of their number was arrested, they would attack the prison and free him. And they killed all the Jews they came upon here and there and stripped them of their possessions.
“Why the Jews?” I asked Salvatore. He answered, “And why not?” He explained to me that all his life preachers had told him the Jews were the enemies of Christianity and accumulated possessions that had been denied the Christian96 poor. I asked him, however, wheth?er it was not also true that lords and bishops accumulat?ed possessions through tithes97, so that the Shepherds were not fighting their true enemies. He replied that when your true enemies are too strong, you have to choose weaker enemies. I reflected that this is why the simple are so called. Only the powerful always know with great clarity who their true enemies are. The lords did not want the Shepherds to jeopardize98 their posses?sions, and it was a great good fortune for them that the Shepherds’ leaders spread the notion that the greatest wealth longed to the Jews.
I asked him who had put into the crowd’s head the idea of attacking the Jews. Salvatore could not remember. I believe that when such crowds collect, lured99 by a promise and immediately demanding something, there is never any knowing who among them speaks. I recalled that their leaders had been educated in convents and cathedral schools, and they spoke the language of the lords, even if they translated it into terms that the Shepherds could understand. The Shepherds did not know where the Pope was, but they knew where the Jews were. Anyway, they laid siege to a high and mas?sive tower of the King of France, where the frightened Jews had run in a body to take refuge. And the Jews sallying forth100 below the walls of the tower defended themselves courageously102 and pitilessly, hurling103 wood and stones. But the Shepherds set fire to the gate of the tower, tormenting104 the barricaded105 Jews with smoke and flames. And the Jews, unable to defeat their attackers, preferring to kill themselves rather than die at the hand of the uncircumcised, asked one of their number, who seemed the most courageous101, to put them all to the sword. He consented, and killed almost five hun?dred of them. Then he came out of the tower with the children of the Jews, and asked the Shepherds to baptize him. But the Shepherds said to him: You have massacred your people and now you want to evade107 death? And they tore him to pieces; but they spared the children, whom they baptized. Then they headed for Carcassonne, carrying out many bloody108 robberies along the way. Then the King of France warned them that they had gone too far and ordered that they be resisted in every city they passed through, and he proclaimed that even the Jews should be defended as if they were the King’s men. ...
Why did the King become so considerate of the Jews at that point? Perhaps because he was beginning to realize what the Shepherds might do throughout the kingdom, and he was concerned because their number was increasing too rapidly. Further, he was moved to tenderness for the Jews, both because the Jews were useful to the trade of the kingdom, and because now it was necessary to destroy the Shepherds, and all good Christians109 had to have a good reason to weep over their crimes. But many Christians did not obey the King, thinking it wrong to defend the Jews, who had always been enemies of the Christian faith. And in many cities the humble people, who had had to pay usury110 to the Jews, were happy to see the Shepherds punish them for their wealth. Then the King commanded, under pain of death, that no aid be given the Shepherds. He gathered a considerable army and attacked them, and many of them were killed, while others saved them?selves by taking flight and seeking refuge in the forests, but there they died of hardship. Soon all were annihilated111. The King’s general captured them and hanged them, twenty or thirty at a time, from the highest trees, so the sight of their corpses112 would serve as an eternal example and no one would dare to disturb the peace of the realm again.
The unusual thing is that Salvatore told me this story as if describing the most virtuous113 enterprise. And in fact he remained convinced that the home of so-called Shepherds had aimed to conquer the sepulcher114 of Christ and free it from the infidels, and it was impossi?ble for me to convince him that this fine conquest had already been achieved, in the days of Peter the Hermit and Saint Bernard, and under the reign115 of Saint Louis of France. In any case, Salvatore did not reach the infidels, because he had to leave French territory in a hurry. He went into the Novara region, he told me, but he was very vague about what happened at this point. And finally he arrived at Casale, where he was received by the convent of Minorites (and here I believe he met Remigio) at the very time when many of them, persecut?ed by the Pope, were changing habit and them, ref?uge in monasteries116 of other orders, to avoid being burned at the stake. As, indeed, Ubertino had told us. Thanks to his long familiarity with many manual tasks (which he had performed both for dishonest purposes, when he was roaming freely, and for holy purposes, when he was roaming for the love of Christ), Salvatore was immediately taken on by the cellarer as his person?al assistant. And that was why he had been here for many years, with scant117 interest in the order’s pomp, but much to the administration of its cellar and larder118, where he was free to eat without stealing and to praise the Lord without being burned.
I looked at him with curiosity, not because of the singularity of his experience, but because what had happened to him seemed to me the splendid epitome119 of so many events and movements that made the Italy of that time fascinating and incomprehensible.
What had emerged from those tales? The picture of a man who had led an adventurous120 life, capable even of killing121 a fellow man without realizing his own crime. But although at that time one offense122 to the divine law seemed to me the same as another, I was already beginning to understand some of the phenomena123 I was hearing discussed, and I saw that it is one thing for a crowd, in an almost ecstatic frenzy124, mistaking the laws of the Devil for those of the Lord, to commit a massacre106, but it is another thing for an individual to commit a crime in cold blood, with calculation, in silence. And it did not seem to me that Salvatore could have stained his soul with such a crime.
On the other hand, I wanted to discover something about the abbot’s insinuations, and I was obsessed125 by the idea of Fra Dolcino, of whom I knew almost nothing, though his ghost seemed to hover126 over many conversa?tions I had heard these past few days.
So I asked Salvatore point-blank: “In your journeys did you ever meet Fra Dolcino?”
His reaction was most strange. He widened his eyes, if it were possible to open them wider than they were, he blessed himself repeatedly, murmured some broken phrases in a language that this time I really did not understand. But they seemed to me phrases of denial. Until then he had looked at me with good-natured trust, I would say with friendship. At that moment he looked at me almost with irritation127. Then, inventing an excuse, he left.
Now I could no longer resist. Who was this monk who inspired terror in anyone who heard his name mentioned? I decided128 I could not remain any longer in the grip of my desire to know. An idea crossed my mind. Ubertino! He himself had uttered that name, the first evening we met him; he knew everything of the vicissitudes129, open and secret, of monks, friars, and other species of these last years. Where could I find him at this hour? Surely in church, immersed in prayer. And since I was enjoying a moment of liberty, I went there.
I did not find him; indeed, I did not find him until evening. And so my curiosity stayed with me, for other events were occurring, of which I must now tell.
1 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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2 devouring | |
吞没( devour的现在分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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3 crumb | |
n.饼屑,面包屑,小量 | |
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4 winked | |
v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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5 miasmas | |
n.瘴气( miasma的名词复数 );烟雾弥漫的空气;不良气氛或影响 | |
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6 furrows | |
n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 );(脸上的)皱纹v.犁田,开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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7 gentry | |
n.绅士阶级,上层阶级 | |
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8 rumor | |
n.谣言,谣传,传说 | |
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9 cemeteries | |
n.(非教堂的)墓地,公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
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10 grimace | |
v.做鬼脸,面部歪扭 | |
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11 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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12 crouched | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13 accosted | |
v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 );跟…搭讪;(乞丐等)上前向…乞讨;(妓女等)勾搭 | |
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14 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 | |
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15 flatten | |
v.把...弄平,使倒伏;使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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16 generic | |
adj.一般的,普通的,共有的 | |
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17 vernacular | |
adj.地方的,用地方语写成的;n.白话;行话;本国语;动植物的俗名 | |
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18 tyrants | |
专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 ); 暴君似的人; (古希腊的)僭主; 严酷的事物 | |
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19 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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20 benighted | |
adj.蒙昧的 | |
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21 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 | |
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22 arrogance | |
n.傲慢,自大 | |
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23 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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24 yearned | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25 ooze | |
n.软泥,渗出物;vi.渗出,泄漏;vt.慢慢渗出,流露 | |
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26 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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27 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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28 eludes | |
v.(尤指机敏地)避开( elude的第三人称单数 );逃避;躲避;使达不到 | |
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29 pilfering | |
v.偷窃(小东西),小偷( pilfer的现在分词 );偷窃(一般指小偷小摸) | |
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30 vagrants | |
流浪者( vagrant的名词复数 ); 无业游民; 乞丐; 无赖 | |
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31 vagrant | |
n.流浪者,游民;adj.流浪的,漂泊不定的 | |
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32 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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33 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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34 charlatans | |
n.冒充内行者,骗子( charlatan的名词复数 ) | |
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35 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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36 fugitives | |
n.亡命者,逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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37 banishment | |
n.放逐,驱逐 | |
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38 weavers | |
织工,编织者( weaver的名词复数 ) | |
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39 rogues | |
n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 );无赖;调皮捣蛋的人;离群的野兽 | |
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40 rascals | |
流氓( rascal的名词复数 ); 无赖; (开玩笑说法)淘气的人(尤指小孩); 恶作剧的人 | |
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41 bullies | |
n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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42 reprobates | |
n.道德败坏的人,恶棍( reprobate的名词复数 ) | |
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43 recreants | |
n.懦夫( recreant的名词复数 ) | |
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44 embezzling | |
v.贪污,盗用(公款)( embezzle的现在分词 ) | |
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45 corrupt | |
v.贿赂,收买;adj.腐败的,贪污的 | |
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46 nuns | |
n.(通常指基督教的)修女, (佛教的)尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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47 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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48 deception | |
n.欺骗,欺诈;骗局,诡计 | |
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49 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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50 incurable | |
adj.不能医治的,不能矫正的,无救的;n.不治的病人,无救的人 | |
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51 feign | |
vt.假装,佯作 | |
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52 crutches | |
n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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53 stinking | |
adj.臭的,烂醉的,讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 );发臭味;名声臭;糟透 | |
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54 saliva | |
n.唾液,口水 | |
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55 nostrils | |
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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56 spurt | |
v.喷出;突然进发;突然兴隆 | |
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57 concocted | |
v.将(尤指通常不相配合的)成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 );调制;编造;捏造 | |
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58 wrest | |
n.扭,拧,猛夺;v.夺取,猛扭,歪曲 | |
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59 exhortations | |
n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 );极力推荐;(正式的)演讲;(宗教仪式中的)劝诫 | |
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60 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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61 purges | |
清除异己( purge的名词复数 ); 整肃(行动); 清洗; 泻药 | |
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62 narrating | |
v.故事( narrate的现在分词 ) | |
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63 mire | |
n.泥沼,泥泞;v.使...陷于泥泞,使...陷入困境 | |
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64 mingled | |
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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65 agitators | |
n.(尤指政治变革的)鼓动者( agitator的名词复数 );煽动者;搅拌器;搅拌机 | |
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66 discord | |
n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
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67 inveighed | |
v.猛烈抨击,痛骂,谩骂( inveigh的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68 mendicant | |
n.乞丐;adj.行乞的 | |
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69 extorting | |
v.敲诈( extort的现在分词 );曲解 | |
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70 perjury | |
n.伪证;伪证罪 | |
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71 hermit | |
n.隐士,修道者;隐居 | |
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72 seduced | |
诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
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73 lash | |
v.系牢;鞭打;猛烈抨击;n.鞭打;眼睫毛 | |
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74 hermits | |
(尤指早期基督教的)隐居修道士,隐士,遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
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75 penance | |
n.(赎罪的)惩罪 | |
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76 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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77 bishops | |
(基督教某些教派管辖大教区的)主教( bishop的名词复数 ); (国际象棋的)象 | |
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78 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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79 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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80 excoriated | |
v.擦伤( excoriate的过去式和过去分词 );擦破(皮肤);剥(皮);严厉指责 | |
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81 ferocious | |
adj.凶猛的,残暴的,极度的,十分强烈的 | |
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82 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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83 dedication | |
n.奉献,献身,致力,题献,献辞 | |
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84 sects | |
n.宗派,教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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85 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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86 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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87 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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88 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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89 enraged | |
使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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90 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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91 horde | |
n.群众,一大群 | |
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92 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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93 apostate | |
n.背叛者,变节者 | |
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94 throngs | |
n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群,挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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95 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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96 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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97 tithes | |
n.(宗教捐税)什一税,什一的教区税,小部分( tithe的名词复数 ) | |
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98 jeopardize | |
vt.危及,损害 | |
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99 lured | |
吸引,引诱(lure的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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100 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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101 courageous | |
adj.勇敢的,有胆量的 | |
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102 courageously | |
ad.勇敢地,无畏地 | |
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103 hurling | |
n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的现在分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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104 tormenting | |
使痛苦的,使苦恼的 | |
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105 barricaded | |
设路障于,以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 ); 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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106 massacre | |
n.残杀,大屠杀;v.残杀,集体屠杀 | |
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107 evade | |
vt.逃避,回避;避开,躲避 | |
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108 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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109 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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110 usury | |
n.高利贷 | |
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111 annihilated | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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112 corpses | |
n.死尸,尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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113 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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114 sepulcher | |
n.坟墓 | |
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115 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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116 monasteries | |
修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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117 scant | |
adj.不充分的,不足的;v.减缩,限制,忽略 | |
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118 larder | |
n.食物贮藏室,食品橱 | |
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119 epitome | |
n.典型,梗概 | |
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120 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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121 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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122 offense | |
n.犯规,违法行为;冒犯,得罪 | |
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123 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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124 frenzy | |
n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
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125 obsessed | |
adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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126 hover | |
vi.翱翔,盘旋;徘徊;彷徨,犹豫 | |
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127 irritation | |
n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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128 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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129 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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