The new scheme that his mind had conceived, his stout1 heart indorsed, and his blue pencil corroborated2, was laid around the characteristics and human frailties3 of the new president of Anchuria. These characteristics, and the situation out of which Keogh hoped to wrest4 a golden tribute, deserve chronicling contributive to the clear order of events.
President Losada—many called him Dictator—was a man whose genius would have made him conspicuous6 even among Anglo-Saxons, had not that genius been intermixed with other traits that were petty and subversive7. He had some of the lofty patriotism8 of Washington (the man he most admired), the force of Napoleon, and much of the wisdom of the sages10. These characteristics might have justified11 him in the assumption of the title of "The Illustrious Liberator12," had they not been accompanied by a stupendous and amazing vanity that kept him in the less worthy13 ranks of the dictators.
Yet he did his country great service. With a mighty14 grasp he shook it nearly free from the shackles15 of ignorance and sloth16 and the vermin that fed upon it, and all but made it a power in the council of nations. He established schools and hospitals, built roads, bridges, railroads and palaces, and bestowed17 generous subsidies18 upon the arts and sciences. He was the absolute despot and the idol19 of his people. The wealth of the country poured into his hands. Other presidents had been rapacious20 without reason. Losada amassed21 enormous wealth, but his people had their share of the benefits.
The joint22 in his armour23 was his insatiate passion for monuments and tokens commemorating24 his glory. In every town he caused to be erected25 statues of himself bearing legends in praise of his greatness. In the walls of every public edifice26, tablets were fixed27 reciting his splendour and the gratitude28 of his subjects. His statuettes and portraits were scattered29 throughout the land in every house and hut. One of the sycophants30 in his court painted him as St. John, with a halo and a train of attendants in full uniform. Losada saw nothing incongruous in this picture, and had it hung in a church in the capital. He ordered from a French sculptor31 a marble group including himself with Napoleon, Alexander the Great, and one or two others whom he deemed worthy of the honour.
He ransacked32 Europe for decorations, employing policy, money and intrigue33 to cajole the orders he coveted34 from kings and rulers. On state occasions his breast was covered from shoulder to shoulder with crosses, stars, golden roses, medals and ribbons. It was said that the man who could contrive35 for him a new decoration, or invent some new method of extolling36 his greatness, might plunge37 a hand deep into the treasury38.
This was the man upon whom Billy Keogh had his eye. The gentle buccaneer had observed the rain of favors that fell upon those who ministered to the president's vanities, and he did not deem it his duty to hoist39 his umbrella against the scattering40 drops of liquid fortune.
In a few weeks the new consul41 arrived, releasing Keogh from his temporary duties. He was a young man fresh from college, who lived for botany alone. The consulate42 at Coralio gave him the opportunity to study tropical flora43. He wore smoked glasses, and carried a green umbrella. He filled the cool, back porch of the consulate with plants and specimens44 so that space for a bottle and chair was not to be found. Keogh gazed on him sadly, but without rancour, and began to pack his gripsack. For his new plot against stagnation45 along the Spanish Main required of him a voyage overseas.
Soon came the Karlsefin again—she of the trampish habits—gleaning a cargo46 of cocoanuts for a speculative47 descent upon the New York market. Keogh was booked for a passage on the return trip.
"Yes, I'm going to New York," he explained to the group of his countrymen that had gathered on the beach to see him off. "But I'll be back before you miss me. I've undertaken the art education of this piebald country, and I'm not the man to desert it while it's in the early throes of tintypes."
With this mysterious declaration of his intentions Keogh boarded the Karlsefin.
Ten days later, shivering, with the collar of his thin coat turned high, he burst into the studio of Carolus White at the top of a tall building in Tenth Street, New York City.
Carolus White was smoking a cigarette and frying sausages over an oil stove. He was only twenty-three, and had noble theories about art.
"Billy Keogh!" exclaimed White, extending the hand that was not busy with the frying pan. "From what part of the uncivilized world, I wonder!"
"Hello, Carry," said Keogh, dragging forward a stool, and holding his fingers close to the stove. "I'm glad I found you so soon. I've been looking for you all day in the directories and art galleries. The free-lunch man on the corner told me where you were, quick. I was sure you'd be painting pictures yet."
Keogh glanced about the studio with the shrewd eye of a connoisseur48 in business.
"Yes, you can do it," he declared, with many gentle nods of his head. "That big one in the corner with the angels and green clouds and band-wagon is just the sort of thing we want. What would you call that, Carry—scene from Coney Island, ain't it?"
"That," said White, "I had intended to call 'The Translation of Elijah,' but you may be nearer right than I am."
"Name doesn't matter," said Keogh, largely; "it's the frame and the varieties of paint that does the trick. Now, I can tell you in a minute what I want. I've come on a little voyage of two thousand miles to take you in with me on a scheme. I thought of you as soon as the scheme showed itself to me. How would you like to go back with me and paint a picture? Ninety days for the trip, and five thousand dollars for the job."
"It isn't an ad."
"What kind of a picture is it to be?"
"It's a long story," said Keogh.
"Go ahead with it. If you don't mind, while you talk I'll just keep my eye on these sausages. Let 'em get one shade deeper than a Vandyke brown and you spoil 'em."
Keogh explained his project. They were to return to Coralio, where White was to pose as a distinguished50 American portrait painter who was touring in the tropics as a relaxation51 from his arduous52 and remunerative53 professional labours. It was not an unreasonable54 hope, even to those who had trod in the beaten paths of business, that an artist with so much prestige might secure a commission to perpetuate55 upon canvas the lineaments of the president, and secure a share of the pesos that were raining upon the caterers to his weaknesses.
Keogh had set his price at ten thousand dollars. Artists had been paid more for portraits. He and White were to share the expenses of the trip, and divide the possible profits. Thus he laid the scheme before White, whom he had known in the West before one declared for Art and the other became a Bedouin.
Before long the two machinators abandoned the rigour of the bare studio for a snug56 corner of a café. There they sat far into the night, with old envelopes and Keogh's stub of blue pencil between them.
At twelve o'clock White doubled up in his chair, with his chin on his fist, and shut his eyes at the unbeautiful wall-paper.
"I'll go you, Billy," he said, in the quiet tones of decision. "I've got two or three hundred saved up for sausages and rent; and I'll take the chance with you. Five thousand! It will give me two years in Paris and one in Italy. I'll begin to pack to-morrow."
"You'll begin in ten minutes," said Keogh. "It's to-morrow now. The Karlsefin starts back at four P.M. Come on to your painting shop, and I'll help you."
For five months in the year Coralio is the Newport of Anchuria. Then only does the town possess life. From November to March it is practically the seat of government. The president with his official family sojourns57 there; and society follows him. The pleasure-loving people make the season one long holiday of amusement and rejoicing. Fiestas, balls, games, sea bathing, processions and small theatres contribute to their enjoyment58. The famous Swiss band from the capital plays in the little plaza59 every evening, while the fourteen carriages and vehicles in the town circle in funereal60 but complacent61 procession. Indians from the interior mountains, looking like prehistoric62 stone idols63, come down to peddle64 their handiwork in the streets. The people throng65 the narrow ways, a chattering66, happy, careless stream of buoyant humanity. Preposterous67 children rigged out with the shortest of ballet skirts and gilt68 wings, howl, underfoot, among the effervescent crowds. Especially is the arrival of the presidential party, at the opening of the season, attended with pomp, show and patriotic69 demonstrations70 of enthusiasm and delight.
When Keogh and White reached their destination, on the return trip of the Karlsefin, the gay winter season was well begun. As they stepped upon the beach they could hear the band playing in the plaza. The village maidens72, with fireflies already fixed in their dark locks, were gliding73, barefoot and coy-eyed, along the paths. Dandies in white linen74, swinging their canes75, were beginning their seductive strolls. The air was full of human essence, of artificial enticement76, of coquetry, indolence, pleasure—the man-made sense of existence.
The first two or three days after their arrival were spent in preliminaries. Keogh escorted the artist about town, introducing him to the little circle of English-speaking residents and pulling whatever wires he could to effect the spreading of White's fame as a painter. And then Keogh planned a more spectacular demonstration71 of the idea he wished to keep before the public.
He and White engaged rooms in the Hotel de los Estranjeros. The two were clad in new suits of immaculate duck, with American straw hats, and carried canes of remarkable77 uniqueness and inutility. Few caballeros in Coralio—even the gorgeously uniformed officers of the Anchurian army—were as conspicuous for ease and elegance78 of demeanour as Keogh and his friend, the great American painter, Señor White.
White set up his easel on the beach and made striking sketches80 of the mountain and sea views. The native population formed at his rear in a vast, chattering semicircle to watch his work. Keogh, with his care for details, had arranged for himself a pose which he carried out with fidelity81. His rôle was that of friend to the great artist, a man of affairs and leisure. The visible emblem82 of his position was a pocket camera.
"For branding the man who owns it," said he, "a genteel dilettante83 with a bank account and an easy conscience, a steam-yacht ain't in it with a camera. You see a man doing nothing but loafing around making snap-shots, and you know right away he reads up well in 'Bradstreet.' You notice these old millionaire boys—soon as they get through taking everything else in sight they go to taking photographs. People are more impressed by a kodak than they are by a title or a four-carat scarf-pin." So Keogh strolled blandly84 about Coralio, snapping the scenery and the shrinking señoritas, while White posed conspicuously85 in the higher regions of art.
Two weeks after their arrival, the scheme began to bear fruit. An aide-de-camp of the president drove to the hotel in a dashing victoria. The president desired that Señor White come to the Casa Morena for an informal interview.
Keogh gripped his pipe tightly between his teeth. "Not a cent less than ten thousand," he said to the artist—"remember the price. And in gold or its equivalent—don't let him stick you with this bargain-counter stuff they call money here."
"Perhaps it isn't that he wants," said White.
"Get out!" said Keogh, with splendid confidence. "I know what he wants. He wants his picture painted by the celebrated86 young American painter and filibuster87 now sojourning in his down-trodden country. Off you go."
The victoria sped away with the artist. Keogh walked up and down, puffing88 great clouds of smoke from his pipe, and waited. In an hour the victoria swept again to the door of the hotel, deposited White, and vanished. The artist dashed up the stairs, three at a step. Keogh stopped smoking, and became a silent interrogation point.
"Landed," exclaimed White, with his boyish face flushed with elation89. "Billy, you are a wonder. He wants a picture. I'll tell you all about it. By Heavens! that dictator chap is a corker! He's a dictator clear down to his finger-ends. He's a kind of combination of Julius Cæsar, Lucifer and Chauncey Depew done in sepia. Polite and grim—that's his way. The room I saw him in was about ten acres big, and looked like a Mississippi steamboat with its gilding90 and mirrors and white paint. He talks English better than I can ever hope to. The matter of the price came up. I mentioned ten thousand. I expected him to call the guard and have me taken out and shot. He didn't move an eyelash. He just waved one of his chestnut91 hands in a careless way, and said, 'Whatever you say.' I am to go back to-morrow and discuss with him the details of the picture."
Keogh hung his head. Self-abasement was easy to read in his downcast countenance92.
"I'm failing, Carry," he said, sorrowfully. "I'm not fit to handle these man's-size schemes any longer. Peddling93 oranges in a push-cart is about the suitable graft94 for me. When I said ten thousand, I swear I thought I had sized up that brown man's limit to within two cents. He'd have melted down for fifteen thousand just as easy. Say—Carry—you'll see old man Keogh safe in some nice, quiet idiot asylum95, won't you, if he makes a break like that again?"
The Casa Morena, although only one story in height, was a building of brown stone, luxurious96 as a palace in its interior. It stood on a low hill in a walled garden of splendid tropical flora at the upper edge of Coralio. The next day the president's carriage came again for the artist. Keogh went out for a walk along the beach, where he and his "picture box" were now familiar sights. When he returned to the hotel White was sitting in a steamer-chair on the balcony.
White got up and walked back and forth98 on the balcony a few times. Then he stopped, and laughed strangely. His face was flushed, and his eyes were bright with a kind of angry amusement.
"Look here, Billy," he said, somewhat roughly, "when you first came to me in my studio and mentioned a picture, I thought you wanted a Smashed Oats or a Hair Tonic poster painted on a range of mountains or the side of a continent. Well, either of those jobs would have been Art in its highest form compared to the one you've steered99 me against. I can't paint that picture, Billy. You've got to let me out. Let me try to tell you what that barbarian100 wants. He had it all planned out and even a sketch79 made of his idea. The old boy doesn't draw badly at all. But, ye goddesses of Art! listen to the monstrosity he expects me to paint. He wants himself in the centre of the canvas, of course. He is to be painted as Jupiter sitting on Olympus, with the clouds at his feet. At one side of him stands George Washington, in full regimentals, with his hand on the president's shoulder. An angel with outstretched wings hovers101 overhead, and is placing a laurel wreath on the president's head, crowning him—Queen of the May, I suppose. In the background is to be cannon102, more angels and soldiers. The man who would paint that picture would have to have the soul of a dog, and would deserve to go down into oblivion without even a tin can tied to his tail to sound his memory."
Little beads103 of moisture crept out all over Billy Keogh's brow. The stub of his blue pencil had not figured out a contingency104 like this. The machinery105 of his plan had run with flattering smoothness until now. He dragged another chair upon the balcony, and got White back to his seat. He lit his pipe with apparent calm.
"Now, sonny," he said, with gentle grimness, "you and me will have an Art to Art talk. You've got your art and I've got mine. Yours is the real Pierian stuff that turns up its nose at bock-beer signs and oleographs of the Old Mill. Mine's the art of Business. This was my scheme, and it worked out like two-and-two. Paint that president man as Old King Cole, or Venus, or a landscape, or a fresco106, or a bunch of lilies, or anything he thinks he looks like. But get the paint on the canvas and collect the spoils. You wouldn't throw me down, Carry, at this stage of the game. Think of that ten thousand."
"I can't help thinking of it," said White, "and that's what hurts. I'm tempted107 to throw every ideal I ever had down in the mire9, and steep my soul in infamy108 by painting that picture. That five thousand meant three years of foreign study to me, and I'd almost sell my soul for that."
"Now it ain't as bad as that," said Keogh, soothingly109. "It's a business proposition. It's so much paint and time against money. I don't fall in with your idea that that picture would so everlastingly110 jolt111 the art side of the question. George Washington was all right, you know, and nobody could say a word against the angel. I don't think so bad of that group. If you was to give Jupiter a pair of epaulets and a sword, and kind of work the clouds around to look like a blackberry patch, it wouldn't make such a bad battle scene. Why, if we hadn't already settled on the price, he ought to pay an extra thousand for Washington, and the angel ought to raise it five hundred."
"You don't understand, Billy," said White, with an uneasy laugh. "Some of us fellows who try to paint have big notions about Art. I wanted to paint a picture some day that people would stand before and forget that it was made of paint. I wanted it to creep into them like a bar of music and mushroom there like a soft bullet. And I wanted 'em to go away and ask, 'What else has he done?' And I didn't want 'em to find a thing; not a portrait nor a magazine cover nor an illustration nor a drawing of a girl—nothing but the picture. That's why I've lived on fried sausages, and tried to keep true to myself. I persuaded myself to do this portrait for the chance it might give me to study abroad. But this howling, screaming caricature! Good Lord! can't you see how it is?"
"Sure," said Keogh, as tenderly as he would have spoken to a child, and he laid a long forefinger112 on White's knee. "I see. It's bad to have your art all slugged up like that. I know. You wanted to paint a big thing like the panorama113 of the battle of Gettysburg. But let me kalsomine you a little mental sketch to consider. Up to date we're out $385.50 on this scheme. Our capital took every cent both of us could raise. We've got about enough left to get back to New York on. I need my share of that ten thousand. I want to work a copper114 deal in Idaho, and make a hundred thousand. That's the business end of the thing. Come down off your art perch115, Carry, and let's land that hatful of dollars."
"Billy," said White, with an effort, "I'll try. I won't say I'll do it, but I'll try. I'll go at it, and put it through if I can."
"That's business," said Keogh heartily116. "Good boy! Now, here's another thing—rush that picture—crowd it through as quick as you can. Get a couple of boys to help you mix the paint if necessary. I've picked up some pointers around town. The people here are beginning to get sick of Mr. President. They say he's been too free with concessions117; and they accuse him of trying to make a dicker with England to sell out the country. We want that picture done and paid for before there's any row."
In the great patio118 of Casa Morena, the president caused to be stretched a huge canvas. Under this White set up his temporary studio. For two hours each day the great man sat to him.
White worked faithfully. But, as the work progressed, he had seasons of bitter scorn, of infinite self-contempt, of sullen119 gloom and sardonic120 gaiety. Keogh, with the patience of a great general, soothed121, coaxed122, argued—kept him at the picture.
At the end of a month White announced that the picture was completed—Jupiter, Washington, angels, clouds, cannon and all. His face was pale and his mouth drawn123 straight when he told Keogh. He said the president was much pleased with it. It was to be hung in the National Gallery of Statesmen and Heroes. The artist had been requested to return to Casa Morena on the following day to receive payment. At the appointed time he left the hotel, silent under his friend's joyful124 talk of their success.
An hour later he walked into the room where Keogh was waiting, threw his hat on the floor, and sat upon the table.
"Billy," he said, in strained and labouring tones, "I've a little money out West in a small business that my brother is running. It's what I've been living on while I've been studying art. I'll draw out my share and pay you back what you've lost on this scheme."
"Lost!" exclaimed Keogh, jumping up. "Didn't you get paid for the picture?"
"Yes, I got paid," said White. "But just now there isn't any picture, and there isn't any pay. If you care to hear about it, here are the edifying125 details. The president and I were looking at the painting. His secretary brought a bank draft on New York for ten thousand dollars and handed it to me. The moment I touched it I went wild. I tore it into little pieces and threw them on the floor. A workman was repainting the pillars inside the patio. A bucket of his paint happened to be convenient. I picked up his brush and slapped a quart of blue paint all over that ten-thousand-dollar nightmare. I bowed, and walked out. The president didn't move or speak. That was one time he was taken by surprise. It's tough on you, Billy, but I couldn't help it."
There seemed to be excitement in Coralio. Outside there was a confused, rising murmur126 pierced by high-pitched cries. "Bajo el traidor—Muerte el traidor!" were the words they seemed to form.
"Listen to that!" exclaimed White, bitterly: "I know that much Spanish. They're shouting, 'Down with the traitor127!' I heard them before. I felt that they meant me. I was a traitor to Art. The picture had to go."
"'Down with the blank fool' would have suited your case better," said Keogh, with fiery128 emphasis. "You tear up ten thousand dollars like an old rag because the way you've spread on five dollars' worth of paint hurts your conscience. Next time I pick a side-partner in a scheme the man has got to go before a notary129 and swear he never even heard the word 'ideal' mentioned."
Keogh strode from the room, white-hot. White paid little attention to his resentment130. The scorn of Billy Keogh seemed a trifling131 thing beside the greater self-scorn he had escaped.
In Coralio the excitement waxed. An outburst was imminent132. The cause of this demonstration of displeasure was the presence in the town of a big, pink-cheeked Englishman, who, it was said, was an agent of his government come to clinch133 the bargain by which the president placed his people in the hands of a foreign power. It was charged that not only had he given away priceless concessions, but that the public debt was to be transferred into the hands of the English, and the custom-houses turned over to them as a guarantee. The long-enduring people had determined134 to make their protest felt.
On that night, in Coralio and in other towns, their ire found vent5. Yelling mobs, mercurial135 but dangerous, roamed the streets. They overthrew136 the great bronze statue of the president that stood in the centre of the plaza, and hacked137 it to shapeless pieces. They tore from public buildings the tablets set there proclaiming the glory of the "Illustrious Liberator." His pictures in the government offices were demolished138. The mobs even attacked the Casa Morena, but were driven away by the military, which remained faithful to the executive. All the night terror reigned139.
The greatness of Losada was shown by the fact that by noon the next day order was restored, and he was still absolute. He issued proclamations denying positively140 that any negotiations141 of any kind had been entered into with England. Sir Stafford Vaughn, the pink-cheeked Englishman, also declared in placards and in public print that his presence there had no international significance. He was a traveller without guile142. In fact (so he stated), he had not even spoken with the president or been in his presence since his arrival.
During this disturbance143, White was preparing for his homeward voyage in the steamship144 that was to sail within two or three days. About noon, Keogh, the restless, took his camera out with the hope of speeding the lagging hours. The town was now as quiet as if peace had never departed from her perch on the red-tiled roofs.
About the middle of the afternoon, Keogh hurried back to the hotel with something decidedly special in his air. He retired145 to the little room where he developed his pictures.
Later on he came out to White on the balcony, with a luminous146, grim, predatory smile on his face.
"Do you know what that is?" he asked, holding up a 4 × 5 photograph mounted on cardboard.
"Snap-shot of a señorita sitting in the sand—alliteration unintentional," guessed White, lazily.
"Wrong," said Keogh with shining eyes. "It's a slung-shot. It's a can of dynamite147. It's a gold mine. It's a sight-draft on your president man for twenty thousand dollars—yes, sir—twenty thousand this time, and no spoiling the picture. No ethics148 of art in the way. Art! You with your smelly little tubes! I've got you skinned to death with a kodak. Take a look at that."
White took the picture in his hand, and gave a long whistle.
"Jove!" he exclaimed, "but wouldn't that stir up a row in town if you let it be seen. How in the world did you get it, Billy?"
"You know that high wall around the president man's back garden? I was up there trying to get a bird's-eye of the town. I happened to notice a chink in the wall where a stone and a lot of plaster had slid out. Thinks I, I'll take a peep through to see how Mr. President's cabbages are growing. The first thing I saw was him and this Sir Englishman sitting at a little table about twenty feet away. They had the table all spread over with documents, and they were hobnobbing over them as thick as two pirates. 'Twas a nice corner of the garden, all private and shady with palms and orange trees, and they had a pail of champagne149 set by handy in the grass. I knew then was the time for me to make my big hit in Art. So I raised the machine up to the crack, and pressed the button. Just as I did so them old boys shook hands on the deal—you see they took that way in the picture."
Keogh put on his coat and hat.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked White.
"Me," said Keogh in a hurt tone, "why, I'm going to tie a pink ribbon to it and hang it on the what-not, of course. I'm surprised at you. But while I'm out you just try to figure out what ginger-cake potentate150 would be most likely to want to buy this work of art for his private collection—just to keep it out of circulation."
The sunset was reddening the tops of the cocoanut palms when Billy Keogh came back from Casa Morena. He nodded to the artist's questioning gaze; and lay down on a cot with his hands under the back of his head.
"I saw him. He paid the money like a little man. They didn't want to let me in at first. I told 'em it was important. Yes, that president man is on the plenty-able list. He's got a beautiful business system about the way he uses his brains. All I had to do was to hold up the photograph so he could see it, and name the price. He just smiled, and walked over to a safe and got the cash. Twenty one-thousand-dollar brand-new United States Treasury notes he laid on the table, like I'd pay out a dollar and a quarter. Fine notes, too—they crackled with a sound like burning the brush off a ten-acre lot."
"Let's try the feel of one," said White, curiously151. "I never saw a thousand-dollar bill." Keogh did not immediately respond.
"Carry," he said, in an absent-minded way, "you think a heap of your art, don't you?"
"I thought you were a fool the other day," went on Keogh, quietly, "and I'm not sure now that you wasn't. But if you was, so am I. I've been in some funny deals, Carry, but I've always managed to scramble153 fair, and match my brains and capital against the other fellow's. But when it comes to—well, when you've got the other fellow cinched, and the screws on him, and he's got to put up—why, it don't strike me as being a man's game. They've got a name for it, you know; it's—confound you, don't you understand? A fellow feels—it's something like that blamed art of yours—he—well, I tore that photograph up and laid the pieces on that stack of money and shoved the whole business back across the table. 'Excuse me, Mr. Losada,' I said, 'but I guess I've made a mistake in the price. You get the photo for nothing.' Now, Carry, you get out the pencil, and we'll do some more figuring. I'd like to save enough out of our capital for you to have some fried sausages in your joint when you get back to New York."
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2
corroborated
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| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
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3
frailties
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| n.脆弱( frailty的名词复数 )；虚弱；（性格或行为上的）弱点；缺点 | |
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wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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subversive
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| adj.颠覆性的，破坏性的；n.破坏份子，危险份子 | |
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patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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sages
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| n.圣人( sage的名词复数 )；智者；哲人；鼠尾草（可用作调料） | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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liberator
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| 解放者 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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17
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
subsidies
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| n.补贴，津贴，补助金( subsidy的名词复数 ) | |
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19
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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20
rapacious
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| adj.贪婪的，强夺的 | |
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21
amassed
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| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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23
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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24
commemorating
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的现在分词 ) | |
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25
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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26
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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27
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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28
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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29
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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30
sycophants
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| n.谄媚者，拍马屁者( sycophant的名词复数 ) | |
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31
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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32
ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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33
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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34
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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35
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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36
extolling
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| v.赞美( extoll的现在分词 )；赞颂，赞扬，赞美( extol的现在分词 ) | |
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37
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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38
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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39
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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40
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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41
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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42
consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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43
flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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44
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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45
stagnation
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| n. 停滞 | |
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46
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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47
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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48
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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49
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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50
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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51
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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52
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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53
remunerative
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| adj.有报酬的 | |
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54
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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55
perpetuate
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| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
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56
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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57
sojourns
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| n.逗留，旅居( sojourn的名词复数 ) | |
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58
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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59
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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60
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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61
complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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62
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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63
idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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64
peddle
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| vt.(沿街)叫卖，兜售；宣传，散播 | |
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65
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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66
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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67
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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68
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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69
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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70
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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71
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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72
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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73
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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74
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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75
canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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76
enticement
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| n.诱骗，诱人 | |
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77
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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78
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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79
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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80
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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81
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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82
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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83
dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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84
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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85
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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86
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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87
filibuster
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| n.妨碍议事，阻挠；v.阻挠 | |
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88
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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89
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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90
gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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91
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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92
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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93
peddling
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| 忙于琐事的，无关紧要的 | |
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94
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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95
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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96
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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97
nibs
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| 上司，大人物； 钢笔尖，鹅毛管笔笔尖( nib的名词复数 )； 可可豆的碎粒； 小瑕疵 | |
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98
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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99
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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100
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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101
hovers
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| 鸟( hover的第三人称单数 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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102
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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103
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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104
contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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105
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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106
fresco
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| n.壁画；vt.作壁画于 | |
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107
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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108
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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109
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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110
everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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111
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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112
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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113
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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114
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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115
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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116
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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117
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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118
patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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119
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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120
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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121
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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122
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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123
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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124
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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125
edifying
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| adj.有教训意味的，教训性的，有益的v.开导，启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
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126
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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127
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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128
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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129
notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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130
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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131
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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132
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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133
clinch
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| v.敲弯，钉牢；确定；扭住对方 [参]clench | |
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134
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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135
mercurial
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| adj.善变的，活泼的 | |
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136
overthrew
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| overthrow的过去式 | |
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137
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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138
demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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139
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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140
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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141
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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142
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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143
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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144
steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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145
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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146
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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147
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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148
ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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149
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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150
potentate
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| n.统治者；君主 | |
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151
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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152
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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153
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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