In the Conoloways, on the Twenty-second of April,— the first point of Aries,— it snows all night, four inches of it upon the Ground when the Axmen wake, and merrily begin to form it into Missiles or stuff it down the backs of one another's Breeches. Springtide. Mason puts his head out the Tent-Flap and is caught in an intimate Avalanche2 down the side of the Tent. Dixon has his hat knock'd off by a Snowball, and goes chas?ing Tom Hynes 'round the Cook-Waggon.
"I dreamt of a City to the West of here," Dixon tries to recall, scrying in his Coffee-Mug, the wind blowing Wood-smoke in his eyes, "at some great Confluence3 of Rivers, or upon a Harbor in some inland Sea,— a large City,— busy, prospering4, sacred."
"A Sylvan5 Philadelphia...."
"Well.. .well yes, now tha put it thah' way,—
"I hope you are prepar'd for the possibility, that waking Philadelphia is as sacred as anything over here will ever get, Dixon,— observe you not, as we move West, more and more of those Forces, which Cities upon Coasts have learn'd to push away, and leave to Back Inhabitants,— the Lightning, the Winter, an Indifference6 to Pain, not to mention Fire, Blood, and so forth7, all measur'd upon a Scale far from Philadelphian,— whereunto we, and our Royal Commission, and our battery of costly8 Instruments, are but Fleas10 in the Flea9 Circus. We trespass11, each day ever more deeply, into a world of less restraint in ev'rything,— no law, no con1?vergence upon any idea of how life is to be,— an Interior that grows meanwhile ever more forested, more savage12 and perilous13, until,— per?haps14 at the very Longitude15 of your 'City,'— we must reach at last an Anti-City,— some concentration of Fate,— some final condition of Abandonment,— wherein all are unredeemably alone and at Hazard as deep as their souls may bear,— lost Creatures that make the very Seneca seem Christian16 and merciful."
"Eeh, chirpy today...? yet do I wish thee joy of thy dreams, Mason. I knaah the ones just before tha wake are most pleasant to thee,— having myself by then been long awake, from reluctance17 to re-visit the Horrors of my own, and so able to observe thee."
"How, then? Do I talk in my sleep, is that what you're saying?"
"Oh, aye. But tha needn't worry, no one would make it out, 'tis all another Language."
"I'm talking, another Language, in my Sleep,— Dixon?"
"Don't see what the whim-wham's about,—
"Possession!— That is, somebody else's soul, possessing my body, whilst I sleep,— that's what it's about!"
"Why aye, whilst tha're away dreaming, that's what some would say, and others would add, What of it? Don't squint18, ask the Reverend. Tha've a Dream-body, what use to thee's the solid one, for the time tha sleep? Here's some wand'ring Soul who may have been centuries without sleep, who may've indeed forgotten what sleep feels like, who, had Winding-Sheets pockets to carry it, might've offer'd pounds of Gold, for even a quarter-hour's rest...and here thy body is, as an Inn in the Wilderness19, heated, drain'd, provision'd, and but for a beating Heart and a dormant20 Brain, vacant. Surely 'tis only the mildest of inconve?niences—
"Then tell me, Mirth,— where might this alien Ghost be, whilst I'm not dreaming? In what sort of humor?"
"Busy looking for another Habitation, I'd imagine...? Apprehen-
"Well— this won't do, will it."
"Not if tha feel this way. Here,— why not have Captain Zhang 'round someday to stand just outside, listen closely, and see what he can make of it...?"
"Too intimate."
"Half the Camp hears it. Some take it for Indians. Axmen say, if so, 'tis a Nation they have not yet encounter'd."
Later in the day, as they emerge from a Woodline, Mason gesturing eastward21 to where the encampment has swung into view, a Flight of sail,— "Something waits, directly in the Path of our Parallel,— too sure of itself to feel oblig'd to come forward and meet us,— and Lo,— what is to become of this rolling Gypsy village we've brought with us?" late sun, early Shadow in the tent-riggings. Pots a-clattering, kitchen smoke sucked out of Vents22 by the wind passing over. "None of this may be about either you or me. Our story may lie rather behind and ahead, and only with the Transits23 of Venus, never here in the Present, upon the Line, whose true Drama belongs to others,— Darby, Cope, Tom Hynes, Mr. Barnes, some new hire we don't even see,— and when 'tis all done I shall only return to Sapperton, no wiser, and someday wake up and not know if any of this 'happen'd,' or if I merely dream'd it, even this very moment, Dixon, which I know is real—"
"Oh dear....?"
For a while, at any rate, it appears to be the Drama of Stig, the Merry Axman, with ev'ryone else scurrying24 'round out of sight, switching Wigs25 and Coats, appearing in the Proscenium only when needed,— "and whom has Stig ever needed?" as Mrs. Eggslap is apt to sigh, even in his hearing. But Stig, working diligently26 upon his Ax-bit, requires as near to perfect clarity of mind as he may achieve. It is this apparently27 single-minded concentration that at length draws the Attention of Light-Fingers McFee, in the midst of whose rummaging28 thro' Stig's Sea-Chest, Stig makes his Entrance, Ax in Hand.
"What is this?" he inquires.
"Ha! What is this?" brandishing29 an un-roll'd Sheet of Parchment cov-er'd with elaborate Seals and antiquated30 writing in some other Language, possibly Swedish.
Stig holds out his hand. "Give it."
McFee gazes at the Ax-Bit's shining Edge, considering. "Indians!" he yells.
"What does it mean, 'Indians'?" Stig asks, of an empty Tent, for McFee has zipp'd away. Stig roars and chases after him, as they go kick?ing over Laundry-Kettles, tripping over Tent-Guys and causing Tents to
collapse, stopping at the Commissary to throw Potatoes and Onions at each other furiously for a full minute,— till in rides Capt. Shelby's co-officer out here, Mr. Joseph ("Continuation Joe") Warford, who detains them both, and after all have proceeded to the Cook-tent, has a look at the mysterious Parchment.
"Hum. Swedish is it, Stig?"
"Latin," Stig replies.
"Now then Stig, out with it," demands Capt. Shelby, " - or them yingle-yanglin' days is past and gone."
"Very well.— I am here on behalf of certain Principals in Sweden, who believe that the Penns, being secretly creatures of Rome, took ille?gally the original Svanssen land 'pon which Philadelphia would later come to sit,— and thus that the whole Metropolis31 has never ceas'd to belong, rightfully, to Sweden."
"What,— Swedish Jacobites!" exclaims Dixon, "sort of thing.. .why, -Stig...?"
"Amid the glitter of your great World, the Flame of our cause may be easily overlook'd,...yet it burns hotly enough that certain Hands long accustom'd to Thievery durst not venture too close. Swedes have been here from the beginning, living among the Indians in peace, with no need to obtain their land falsely,— indeed, for Penn, Swedes were but another tribe of Indian, residing within his American Grant, whose Priority there he found no less irksome,— which is why, at bottom, there ever was a Boundary Dispute, and these Astronomers32 are come here at all."
"Stig," cries Mrs. Eggslap, "I had no idea! why, you can talk! I'll go bail33 for him gladly, Your Grace."
"Surely," protests the Camp-Lawyer Mr. Barnes, "if this be a Swedish claim, 'tis advanced in a less than timely way, Sir.— Eighty years and more, Kings have come and gone. How do you expect to fare in this?"
"I am but an Agent, Sir. For a greater View of Motive34 and Interest, beyond our own simple desire for Justice, you might ask among your Jesuitick acquaintance."
"If that's a remark about me,— " Dixon in full truculency.
"Gentlemen! Ladies!" cries the Justice of the Peace. "Must I read the Riot Act? I do so, I am told, most affectingly, having been compared indeed with Mr. Whitefield,— though I take in far less in donations, of course." (This seems to many a blatant35 request for a Bribe36, tho' others maintain 'tis but innocent Joking.) "Now then Stig, give us your account, man."
"Do any of you know," Stig inquires, "what I have come down to you
out of? The Frost eternal, the Whiteness abounding37, beneath that all-
night Sun? In the Royal Library in Copenhagen lies an ancient Vellum
Manuscript, a gift from Bishop38 Brynjolf to Frederick the Third, contain?
ing Tales of the first Northmen in America, of those long Winters and the
dread39 Miracles that must come to pass before Spring,— the Blood, the
Ghosts and Fetches, the Prophecies and second Sight And the melan?
choly suggestion, that the 'new' Continent Europeans found, had been
long attended, from its own ancient Days, by murder, slavery, and the
poor fragments of a Magic irreparably broken.
"To enter the Capes40 of Delaware, was thus, for me, to pass the Pillars of Hercules,— not outward, into the simple Mysteries of an open Sea, but inward,— branching, narrowing, compressing toward an Enigma41 as opaque42 and perilous as any in my Travels. All day we ascended43, and at dusk, finally approach'd Philadelphia Irredempta, ceaselessly a-clamor in the torch-light, headlong, as if in continuous Arrival from the Future,— the mesopotamian Idyll of the Svanssens, as vanish'd as Eden.
"As I stood among the hectic44 Mobility45 at Dock-Side, uncertain as to my next Step, a foreign Hand tapp'd at my mantle46. A voice bade me good day, using my Christian name. I shiver'd, though I seldom do, ordinarily. 'Twas not a Voice I knew,— yet, terribly, I knew it well. Unprepared for any reception here, nonetheless I went with him through the necessary exchanges of Counter-seals and words that may never be written down and the like,— I stammer'd some kind of thanks for having been met. I can remember no longer what he look'd like. A closed Carriage approach'd,—
"Hold," cries Capt. Shelby, "— what is this,— Elect Cohens, Bavar?ian Rosicrucians? Come, Stig, admit it,— you're not Swedish at all...are you?"
"Sir,— 'tis for you to work out,— let us say, that my people are of the North, Northern and very White, so white in fact that you British to us appear as do Africans, to you." He pauses, as one telling a Joak pauses for laughter, but all are silent, puzzling how white that might be. Stig
presses on. "The first thing we learn to do, however, before we even learn to fish, is to impersonate Swedes,— for our Nation much prefer to remain unmolested, in return for sending south a few Emissaries now and then, like sacrificial youths and maidens47, into the Sin-laden World, posing as Finns, Swedes, the odd Hungarian,— a Corps48 of Intermediaries for Hire, of whom I am honor'd to be one."
"Working as an agent for Swedish Jacobites unnam'd," Mr. Warford writing vigorously.
"My Contract runs for a year. By next year, Sweden, 'Dusky Olaf,' as we like to personify the place, may no longer wish to pursue his Claim. Then I shall have to be an A-gent for someone else." His Eye-lashes Stirrings of Light, his Brow pale and trackless as an Arctic Shore. "No Question I shall find Work with some American Province. After Mr. Franklin's success in London, Colonial Agents will be much in demand, as hard put to meet the Standards he has set."
"What I don't quite grasp," says Mr. Warford, "is how felling Trees all day is going to help the Swedes take Philadelphia back."
"Healthy Exercise," replies Stig. "Learning the Pioneer Arts,— in particular, the production of Vistoes. Ya, Vistoes to us may prove quite important,— as the Shape of a Lance once held within it the Shape of the Tilting-Lists wherein 'twould be us'd, so do these Lancaster County Rifles, with an amazing Fidelity49, create their own Vistoes of moving Lead, straight as a Ray of Light for a Mile or more,— quite terrible for the unfortunate Squirrel over on the next Ridge-line, who imagines he has found safety."
"You anticipate an arm'd attack against Philadelphia?"
"Is that so fanciful? The Paxton Boys nearly succeeded last year, didn't they? and those were Scots, Welsh, Irish,— southern Races. Imagine next time, a Band, similarly arous'd, of healthy Swedes."
"Should you be sharing their Intentions this way, Sir?"
Stig shrugs50 genially51. "Nothing is certain. Were the Time ever to come, the Continent should know."
"Aye, and you'll fare as well as Braddock did," declares Mr. Boggs, "for there's no room for your European Anticks over here in the Woods."
"Braddock's Vistoe was not wide enough," declares Stig. "Correctly prepar'd for and executed, techniques from the Prussian Plains, where
Science and Slaughter52 were ever fruitfully conjoin'd, remain unsur-pass'd...."
"Tell 'em, Soldier!" adds Zsuzsa Szabo. "If it's not fit for Cavalry53, it's not fit for war. The Future's out West, not creeping 'round these Woods."
"Bugs54 in your Hair," notes Eliza Fields.
"Too much green in the Day-light, as Grease in the Candle-light," adds Patience Eggslap. "Yet if it hadn't been for Trees, I'd probably never have found Stig."
"Was I lost?" Stig inquires. "When?"
Terrain55 begins to get "banky," as Dixon styles it. There are not as many Settlements, Forges, Saw-mills, or planted Fields. The last Market-Roads are cross'd,— the three between Antietam and Conococheague, the Fort Bedford Road, and finally, Braddock's Road,— Lingering pro-long'd, gazing North and South, for whatever Traffick there might be,— each Road abruptly56, too soon, behind them. They have enter'd that strewn and charr'd Theater of the late War, where Indians are still being shot by white men, and whites scalp'd by Indians, who yet pass upon their forbidden Trails, and watch invisibly from the Forests,— and there's no one who can tell the Surveyors whether or not 'tis a District any more in reach of the Treaty of Paris than were Pontiac and his Armies the summer before the Surveyors arriv'd in America.
Hickman, Gibson, and Killogh, veterans of Braddock's Defeat, depress the Spirits of the Company with Tales of that Tragedy, of how the Bears came out of the Trees to feed upon the Corpses57 of English soldiers, "A Defile58 of Ghosts growing, with the Years, more desperate and savage, to Settlers and Indians alike. You'd not wish this Line to pass too close to them, I shouldn't think."
"Do yese Damage," nods Alex McClean.
Their last ten-minute Arc-Segment, this time out, lands them about two miles short of the Summit of Savage Mountain, beyond which all waters flow West, and legally the Limit of their Commission. They set a Post at 165 Miles, 54 Chains, 88 Links from the Post Mark'd West and, turning, begin to widen the Visto, moving East again, Ax-blows the day long. From the Ridges59 they can now see their Visto, dividing the green
Vapors of Foliage60 that wrap the Land, undulating Stump-top yellow, lofty American Clouds a-sailing above, and, "This day from the Summit of Sidelong Hill I saw the Line still formed the arch of a lesser61 circle very beautiful, and agreeable to the Laws of a Sphere," as Mason records.
"Yet," he confides62 to Capt. Zhang, "this unremitting Forest,— it dis?turbs me. Far, far too many trees."
"Consider," replies the Geomancer, "— Adam and Eve ate fruit from a Tree, and were enlighten'd. The Buddha63 sat beneath a Tree, and he was enlighten'd. Newton, also sitting beneath a Tree, was hit by a falling Apple,— and he was enlighten'd. A quick overview64 would suggest that Trees produce Enlightenment. Trees are not the Problem. The Forest is not an Agent of Darkness. But it may be your Visto is."
"Are we in any danger at this moment?" Mason might be joking, but for an anxious under-tone.
"Sha takes time to accumulate and accelerate," explains Captain Zhang. "At this stage, only those of heightened sensitivity, like myself, can even feel it.— But I am uncomfortable. May we move off the Line a bit?
"To rule forever," continues the Chinaman, later, "it is necessary only to create, among the people one would rule, what we call.. .Bad History. Nothing will produce Bad History more directly nor brutally65, than draw?ing a Line, in particular a Right Line, the very Shape of Contempt, through the midst of a People,— to create thus a Distinction betwixt 'em,— 'tis the first stroke.— All else will follow as if predestin'd, unto War and Devastation66."
"Wait," objects Mr. Dixon. "It's as plain as pudding that Pennsylvania and Maryland are so different, that thy fatal Distinction was inflicted67 upon these Shores, long before we arriv'd,—
"Poh, Sir," goads68 Mason, "the Provinces are alike as Stacy and Tracy."
"Except for the Negro Slavery upon one side," Dixon points out, less mildly than he might, "and not the other."
"If you think you see no Slaves in Pennsylvania," replies Capt. Zhang, his face as smooth as Suet, "why, look again. They are not all African, nor do some of them even yet know,— may never know,— that they are Slaves. Slavery is very old upon these shores,— there is no
Innocence upon the Practice anywhere, neither among the Indians nor the Spanish nor in the behavior of the rest of Christendom, if it come to that."
On June I4th, they stand atop the Allegheny Divide. From now on, any Settlers they find are here in violation69 of Penn's and Bouquet70's Edicts. Here the Party will cross, not alone into Ohio, but into Outlawry71 as well. At last, running Water becomes the underlying72 unit of measurement,— Planets hold their Courses, Constellations73 stately creep on, Napier's Bones click in the Surveyors' Tents, and quietly, calmly, ev'rything keeps coming back to Water, how it inhabits the Land, how it gets on with the Dragon beneath. Mapp'd at last, "Maryland" is reveal'd as but a set of Lines meant to Frame Potowmack to the West, and Chesapeake to the East,— dry Land is included, but the Map is of Water. "Beyond the Dividing Mountain (Savage), the Waters all run to the Westward," Mason enters in the Field-Book. "The first of Note (which our Line would cross if continued) is the Little Yochio Geni, running into the Monaungahela, which falls into the Ohio or Allegany River at Pitsbourg (about 80 Miles West, and 30 or 40 North from hence)....The Ohio is navigable for small craft by the accounts I have had from many that have passed down it; and falls in to the River Mississippi (about 36.5 degrees of North Latitude74; Longitude 92 degrees from London); which empties itself into the Bay of Florida." This is how far one Day at the Savage Mountain Summit takes his Desire, or his Quill75.
"Who sent you boys out here like this?" There are about six of them. Some afterward76 will say seven. They are wearing Hats made from the fur of Raccoons, Opossums, Weasels, and Beavers,— and holding long Rifles with octagonal barrels, and packing a Pistol or two each. Even the Horses are glaring, all but carnivorously, at the Party.
A Dilemma77. Say the name of either Proprietor78, and they are agents of the Enemy. Say "Royal Society," and 'twill sound like working for the King, who's even less popular out here than the Penns. "Running a Line
East and West," Dixon finally says, "for some Gentlemen who'll pay for something that looks good on a Map."
"Lot o' Boys for just a simple straight Line, ain't it?"
"We could use more'n this," suggests Tom Hynes, perhaps not as aware as those Axmen who've taken refuge behind the Trees, how easily the Visitors may be provok'd. "Lot of Trees need fallin'. Ask the Steward79, Mr. McClean. It's three and six the Day, and we'll keep ye fed."
"For how long?"
"Far west as they let us go. Could get day-to-day after a little,—
"Hai-ll,— sounds good to me."
' 'Tis your Wife that's Good, Lloyd,— this is 'at damn Proclamation Line, 's what it is."
"No it ain't, that runs the other way, all along the Allegheny Ridge-Line. This is something else. Why're you chopping down all these Trees?"
"You're sure welcome to haul away what you need."
"This all right with Colonel Bouquet?"
Out here, the Col° would be a ruthless sort of chap to run up against. The Hero of Bushy Run has his own plans for America, and a good many friends among the high Whiggery as well,— as who must not, in these times. His Scheme is to tessellate across the Plains a system of identical units, each containing five Squares in the shape of a Greek Cross, with each central square controlling the four radiating from it,— tho' as to their Size, no one is agreed, some saying a mile on a side, others ten, or an Hundred,— Ohio, and the western Prairie beyond, presenting such Enigma, that no one knows what scale to work at.
"A Prison," suggests Capt. Zhang. "Settlers moving West into instant Control."
"Dozens of such Schemes each year," shrugs Capt. Shelby, "and they all fail."
"Bringing closer the day," replies the Chinaman, as if receiving Instruction from Elsewhere, "when one of them succeeds.”
收听单词发音 |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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confluence
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| n.汇合，聚集 | |
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prospering
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
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sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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trespass
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| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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haps
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| n.粗厚毛披巾；偶然，机会，运气( hap的名词复数 ) | |
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longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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vents
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| （气体、液体等进出的）孔、口( vent的名词复数 )； （鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的）肛门； 大衣等的)衩口； 开衩 | |
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transits
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| 通过（transit的复数形式） | |
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scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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rummaging
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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mobility
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| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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maidens
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| 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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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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terrain
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| n.地面，地形，地图 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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confides
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的第三人称单数 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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overview
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| n.概观，概述 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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devastation
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| n.毁坏；荒废；极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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goads
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| n.赶牲口的尖棒( goad的名词复数 )v.刺激( goad的第三人称单数 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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outlawry
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| 宣布非法，非法化，放逐 | |
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underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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constellations
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| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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