Paula had never felt such a consciousness of vitality2 as the next forenoon, after three or four hours' sleep. She was just unrested enough to be alive with tension. Her physical and mental capacities seemed expanded beyond all common bounds, and her thoughts tumbled about playfully in full arenic light, as athletes awaiting the beginning of performance. She plunged4 into a tub of cool water with such delight as thoroughly5 to souse her hair, so it became necessary to spend a half-hour in the sunlight by the open window, combing and fanning, her mind turning over wonderful things.
If you ever looked across a valley of oaks and maples6 and elms in the full morning glow of mid-October, you can divine the glory of red and brown and gold which was this fallen hair. One must meditate7 long to suggest with words the eyes of Paula Linster; perhaps the best her chronicler can do is to offer a glimpse from time to time. Just now you are asked for the sake of her eyes to visualize8 that lustrous9 valley once more—only in a dusk that enriches rather than dims. A memorably10 beautiful young woman, sitting there by the open window—one of the elect would have said.
The difficulty in having to do with Linster attractions is to avoid rising into rhapsody. One thinks of stars and lakes, angels and autumn lands, because his heart is full as a country-boy's, and high clean-clipped thinking is choked. Certainly, once having known such a woman, you will never fall under the spell of Weininger, or any other scale-eyed genius. There is an inspiring reach to that hard-handled word, Culture, when it is used about a woman like this. It means so pure a fineness as neither to require nor to be capable of ostentation12; and yet, a fineness that wears and gives and associates with heroisms. You think of a lineage that for centuries has not been fouled13 by brutality14 or banality15, and has preserved a glowing human warmth, too, to retain the spirit of woman. When men rise to the real and the worthy16, one by one, each will find his Paula Linster, whom to make happy is happiness; whose companionship inevitably17 calls forth18 his best; whom to be with constantly means therefore that all within him, not of the best, must surely die. Clearly when a man finds such a woman, all his roads are closed, save one—to the Shining Heights! And who can say that his royal mate will not laughingly unfold wings for him, when they stand together in the radiant altitude?
She was thinking of Charter's book as she brushed her hair dry. His sentences played brightly in her mind, fastening themselves to comment of her own for the review. Deep was the appeal of the rapt, sunlit face, as she looked away across the rear-court. The colored hall-boy of her own house might have missed the exquisite19 lines of lip, eyelid20, nostril21, brow, temple and chin, but his head uncovered in her presence, and the choicest spirit of service sprang within him. In all about her, to an enlightened vision, was the unconscious repression22 of beauty—art-stirring lines of mental and spiritual awakening23; that look of deep inner freshness and health, the mere24 sight of which disgusts a man with all he has done to soil and sicken his body. Full and easily she breathed, as one who relishes25 sweet air like the taste of pure water. You could imagine Paula exclaiming with joy at the tonic26 delight of a wind from the sea, but not from the steaming aroma27 of a grill28. It was all an æsthetic attraction—not an over-rounded arc, not a tissue stretched shiny from uneven29 plumpness, not a drowsy30 sag31 or fold to suggest the easy content of a mere feeding and breeding animal.
The rear-view of a great granite-ridge of rooming-houses across the court had often fascinated her with the thought of the mysteries within. Once she had spoken to Reifferscheid about the splendid story of New York yet to be written by someone who watched, as she often did, one of these walls of a hundred windows.
"Yes," he had said. "It's great to be poor. Best blood of New York is in those back rooms. Everyone needs his poverty-stage of growth—about seven years will do. It teaches you simplicity32. You step into your neighbor's room and find him washing his stockings with shaving-soap. He explains that it is better than tooth-powder for textile fabrics33. Also, he intimates that he has done a very serious thing in wetting down these small garments, having looked in his bag since, and learned that he has not another pair. However, he wrings34 them very tight and puts them on with the remark that this is a certain way to prevent shrinkage."
Even now, a man stood by his window in a sleeveless garment and a ruff of lather35, shaving with a free hand, and a song between strokes. His was a shining morning face, indeed.... A bare feminine arm leaped quickly forth from behind a tightened36 curtain nearby and adjusted a flower-pot better to the sunlight. From somewhere came a girlish voice in Wagner's Walkure Call. There was not a thought of effort in her carrying that lofty elaborate music—just a fine heart tuned37 to harmony on a rare morning. The effect is not spoiled by the glimpse of a tortured feminine face igniting a cigarette over a gas-flame that has burned all night. The vibrations39 of New York are too powerful for many, but there is more of health and hope than not.... A good mother cleanses40 a sauce-pan from her water-pitcher and showers with the rinsing41 a young heaven-tree far below. Then she lifts in a milk-bottle from the stone ledge—and blows the dust from the top....
Often at night when Paula awakened42 she could hear the drum of a typewriter winging across the precipice—one of the night-shift helping43 to feed the insatiable maw of print. Had New York called him? Would the City crush him into a trifler, with artificial emotions, or was this a Daniel come to interpret her evil dreams?... In a corner-room with two windows, sat a lame38 young man before an easel. Almost always he was there, when there was light. Heaven be with him, Paula thought, if his picture failed.... And in one of the least and darkest, an old man sat writing. Day after day, he worked steadily44 through the hours. To what god or devil had he sold his soul that he was thus condemned45 to eternal scrivening? This was the harrowing part. The back-floors of New York are not for the old men. Back-rooms for the young men and maidens46, still strong in the flight of time and the fight of competition—back-rooms for young New York. Nature loses interest in the old. Civilization should be kinder.
From an unseen somewhere a canary poured out a veritable fire-hose torrent47 of melody; and along one of the lower window ledges48 opposite, an old gray cat was crouched49, a picture of sinister50 listening. Here was a dragon, indeed, for small, warm birds.
Directly opposite a curtain was lifted, and a woman, no longer young, appeared to breathe the morning. Many New Yorkers knew this woman for her part in children's happiness. There was a whisper that she had once been an artist's model—and had loved the artist.... There was one woman long ago—a woman with a box of alabaster—who was forgiven because she loved much.... The lady across the way loved children now, children of most unhappy fortunes. To those who came, and there were many, she gave music lessons; often all day long helping grimy fingers to falter51 over the keys. So she awakened poetry and planted truth-seedlings in shaded little hearts. To the children, though the lady was poor as any—in spite of her piano and a wall of books—she was Lady Bountiful, indeed.... Paula smiled. Two windows, strangely enough side by side, were curtained with stockings out to dry. In one, there were many—cerise and lavender, pink and baby blue. In the next there were but two pair, demurely52 black. What a world of suggestion in the contrast!... So it was always—her wall of a hundred windows, a changing panorama53 of folly54, tragedy, toil55 that would not bow to hopelessness, vanity, art, sacrifice. Blend them all together above the traffic's roar—and you have the spirit of young New York.
She put on the brass56 kettle at length, crossing the room for an occasional glance into the mirror as she finished her hair.... The strange numbing57 power she had felt the night before crept suddenly back from her eyes now to the base of her brain, striving to cripple her volition58. Bellingham was calling her.... The sunlight was gone. There was a smell of hot metal in the air, as if some terrific energy had burned out the vitality. Her heart hurt her from holding her breath so long. Beyond all expression she was shocked and shamed. The mirror showed now a spectral59 Paula with crimson60 lips and haggard eyes.... An indescribable fertility stirred within her—almost mystic, like a whisper from spiritland where little children play, waiting to be born. She could have fallen in a strange and subtle thrall61 of redolent imaginings, except that thought of the source of it all, the occultist—was as acid in her veins62.
She drank tea and crossed the street to the Park for an hour. The radiance of autumn impressed her rarely; not as the death of a year, but rather as a glorious pageant63 of evening, the great energies of nature all crowned with fruition and preparing for rest. Back in her room, she wrote the Charter critique, wrote as seldom before. The cool spirit of the essayist seemed ignited with a lyric64 ardor65. In her momentary66 power she conceived a great literary possibility of the future—an effulgent67 Burns-vine blossoming forth upon the austere68 cliff of a Carlyle. She had finished, and it was dusk when Madame Nestor called.
For several years, at various philosophical69 gatherings70 and brotherhoods72, Paula, invariably stimulated73 by the unusual, had encountered this remarkable74 woman. Having very little to say as a rule, Madame Nestor was a figure for comment and one not readily forgotten because of occasional memorable75 utterances76. In all the cults77 of New York, there was likely no individual quite so out of alignment78 with ordinary life. Indefinitely, she would be called fifty. Her forehead was broad, her mouth soft. The face as a whole was heavy and flour-white. There was a distention of eyeballs and a pulpy79 shapelessness to her body which gave the impression of advanced physical deterioration—that peculiar80 kind of breaking down, often noticeable among psychics82 of long practice. Her absolute incapacity to keep anything of value was only one characteristic of interest. Madame Nestor's record of apparently83 thoughtless generosity84 was truly inspiriting.
"I had to see you to-day," she said, sinking down with a sigh of relief. "I sat behind you last night in Prismatic Hall."
The younger woman recalled with a start—the whisper she had heard. She leaned forward and inquired quickly: "So it was you, Madame Nestor, who knew—this Bellingham"—she cleared her throat as she uttered the name—"as he is now—a quarter of a century ago?"
"Yes. How very strange that you should have heard what I said.... You will join one of his classes, I presume?"
"I can imagine doing no such thing."
"Dear Paula, do you think it will really turn out—that you are to have no relation with Bellingham?"
Paula repressed the instant impulse to answer sharply. The fact that she had already felt Bellingham's power made the other's words a harsh irritation85.
"I suppose I should have been a cinder87 long since, dear, if these were days for burning witches," Madame Nestor said. "When I saw Bellingham's eyes settle upon you last night—it appeared to me that you are to know him well. I came here to give you what strength I could—because he is the chief of devils."
"I'm only one of the working neuters of the human hive," Paula managed to declare.
The elder woman said a strange thing: "Ah, no. The everlasting88 feminine is alive in your every movement. A man like Bellingham would cross the world for you. Some strong-souled woman sooner or later must encompass89 his undoing90, and last night it came to me in a way to force my conviction—that you are the woman."
Paula bent91 toward her. Darkness covered the centres of her mind and she was afraid. She could not laugh, for she had already met the magician's will. "But I loathe92 him," she whispered. "About the very name when I first heard it yesterday was an atmosphere which aroused all my antagonism93."
"Even that—he has overcome, but it may help you to endure."
"What does the man want?"
"He wants life—life—floods of young, fine vitality to renew his own flesh. He wants to live on and on in the body which you have seen. It is all he has, for his soul is dead—or feeble as a frog's. He fears death, because he cannot come back. He renews his life from splendid sources of human magnetism94—such as you possess. It is Bellingham's hell to know that, once out of the flesh, he has not soul enough, if any, to command a human body again. You see in him an empty thing, which has lived, God knows how many years, hugging the warmth of his blood—a creature who knows that to die means the swift disintegration95 of an evil principle."
"Do you realize, Madame Nestor," Paula asked excitedly, "that you are talking familiarly of things which may exist in books of ancient wisdom, but that this is New York—New York packed about us? New York does not reckon with such things."
"The massed soul of this big city does not reckon with such things, Paula. That is true, but we are apart. Bellingham is apart. He is wiser than the massed soul of New York."
"One might believe, even have such a religious conviction, but you speak of an actual person, the terrible inner mystery of a man, whom we have seen—a man who frightened me hideously97 last night—and to-day! You bring the thing home to a room in a New York apartment ... Can't you see how hard to adjust, this is? I don't mean to stop or distract you, but this has become—you are helping to keep it so—such an intimate, dreadful thing!"
Madame Nestor had been too long immersed in occultism to grasp the world's judgment98 of her sayings. "Listen, Paula, this that I tell you is inherent in every thinking man. You are bewildered by the personal nature it has assumed.... To every one of us shall come the terrible moment of choice. Man is not conceived blindly to be driven. Imagine a man who is become a rapidly evolving mind. On the one side is the animal-nature, curbed99 and obedient; on the other, his gathering71 soul-force. The mind balances between these two—soul and body. The time has come for him to choose between a lonely path to the Heights, or the broad diverging100 highway, moving with pomp, dazzling with the glare of vain power, and brooded over by an arrogant101 materialism102 which slays103 the soul.... The spirit of man says, 'Take the rising road alone.' The old world-mother sings to him from the swaying throng104, 'Come over and be my king. Look at my arts, my palaces, my valiant105 young men and my glorious women. I will put worship in the hearts of the strong—for you! I will put love in the hearts of the beautiful—for you! Come over and be my king! Later, when you are old and have drunk deep of power—you may take the rising road alone.'"
Paula invariably qualified106 a dogmatic statement as a possibility in her own mind; but something of this—man reaching a moment of choice—had always appealed to her as a fundamental verity107. Man must conquer not only his body, but his brain, with its subtle dreams of power, a more formidable conflict, before the soul assumes supremacy108 in the mind, and man's progress to the Uplands becomes a conscious and glorious ascent109.
"You put it with wonderful clearness, Madame Nestor," she said.
"I am an old woman who has thought of these things until they are clear. This is the real battle of man, beside which victory over mere appetites of the body is but a boyish triumph. The intellect hungers for power and possession; to hold the many inferior intellects in its own despotic destiny. Against this glittering substance of attraction is the still intangible faith of the soul—an awful moment of suspense110. God or Mammon—choose ye!... Listen, Paula, to New York below—treading the empty mill of commerce——"
"New York has not chosen yet?"
"No, dear, but hundreds, thousands, are learning in preparation for that moment of choice—the falseness and futility111 of material possessions."
"That is a good thought—an incorruptible kind of optimism!" Paula exclaimed.... "You think this Bellingham has made the evil choice?"
"Yes. Long ago."
"Yet to have arisen to the moment of choosing, you say he must have conquered the flesh."
"Yes."
"Exactly, Paula, because he has reverted114. The animal controls his mind, not the soul. Bellingham is retracing115 his way back to chaos116, with a human brain, all lit with magic! Out of the gathered knowledge of the ages, he has drawn117 his forces, which to us are mystery. He uses these secret forces of Nature to prolong his own life—which is all he has. The mystic cord is severed118 within him. He is a body, nothing but a body—hence the passion to endure. Out of the craft of the past, he has learned—who knows how long ago?—to replenish119 his own vitality with that of others. He gives nothing, but drains all. Ah, Paula, this I know too well. He is kin11 with those creatures of legend, the loup-garou, the vampire120. I tell you he is an insatiable sponge for human magnetism."
"Past all doubt, can't Bellingham turn back?" Paula asked tensely. "With all his worldly knowledge, and knowing his own doom121, can he not turn back—far back, a lowly-organized soul, but on the human way?" Hopelessness, anywhere, was a blasting conception to her.
"No. I tell you he is a living coffin122. There is nothing in him to energize123 a pure motive124. He might give a fortune to the poor, but it would be for his own gain. He could not suffer for the poor, or love them. Dead within, he is detached from the great centres of virtue125 and purity—from all that carries the race forward, and will save us at the last. You see his frightful126 dependence127 upon this temporal physical instrument, since all the records of the past and the unwritten pages of the future are wiped out? Isn't it a sheer black horror, Paula,—to know that from the great tide of hopeful humanity, one is set apart; to know that the amazing force which has carried one from a cell in the ooze128 to thinking manhood must end with this red frightened heart; to be forced, for the continuance of life, to feed upon the strength of one woman after another—always fairer and finer——" The look of hatred129 in the speaker's face had become a banner of havoc130.
"Can he not stop that kind of devouring131?" Paula exclaimed. "Would there not be hope—if he battled with that—put that vampirism behind?"
Madame Nestor regarded the other steadily, until all distortion of feature had given away to her accustomed mildness. Then she uttered an unforgettable question:
"Can a tiger eat grains?"
Vast ranges of terrible understanding were suggested.
"It is my duty, if I ever had a duty," the caller went on, "to make you know Bellingham as I know him. You must have no pity."
"Is there really no fact by which his age can be determined132?"
"None that I know. Twenty-five years ago, when he left me hideously wise and pitifully drained, he looked as he does now."
"But why, oh why, do you always think of me with Bellingham?" Paula asked hopelessly.
"I watched his face when he regarded you last night. I knew the look."
"What is to prevent me from never seeing him? He cannot force himself upon me here—in the flesh.... Certainly you would not tell him where I am, where I go—if I begged you not to!"
Madame Nestor shuddered133. "No, Paula. It is because you are frightened and tormented134 that such a thought comes. It is I who am showing you the real Bellingham. He menaces my race. None but big-souled women are useful to him now. He is drawn to them, as one hungry, as one always hungry. It is he first who is drawn. Then they begin to feel and respond to his occult attraction. The time might have come when you would worship him—had I not warned you. I did. I was quite his—until I learned. A woman knows no laws in the midst of an attraction like this. No other man suffices——"
"But why—why do you prepare me? Do you think I cannot resist?" Paula asked furiously. She felt the bonds about her already. The blood rose hot and rebellious135 at the thought of being bound. It was the old hideous96 fear of a locked room—the shut-in horror which meant suffocation136.
"If I thought you could not resist, Paula," Madame Nestor said, "I should advise you to flee to the remotest country—this moment. I should implore137 you never to allow from your side your best and strongest friend. But I have studied your brain, your strength, your heart. I love you for the thought that has come to me—that it is you, Paula Linster, who is destined138 to free the race from this destroyer."
Often in the last half-hour had come a great inward revolt against the trend of her caller's words. It passed through Paula again, yet she inquired how she could thus be the means.
"By resisting him. Bellingham once told me—trust him, this was after I was fully3 his—that if I had matched his force with a psychic81 resistance equally as strong—it would mortally have weakened him. So if he seeks to subvert140 your will and fails, this great one-pointed power of his, developed who knows how long—will turn and rend139 itself. This is an occult law."
Paula could understand this—the wild beast of physical desire rending141 itself at the last—but not the conception of hopelessness—Bellingham cut off from immortality142. The woman divined her thoughts.
"Again I beg of you," she said in excitement, "not to let a thought of pity for him insinuate143 itself in your brain—not the finest point of it! Think of yourself, of the Great Good which must sustain you, of the benefit to your race—think of the women less strong! Fail in this, and Bellingham will absorb your splendid forces, and let you fall back into the common as I did—to rise again, ah, so bitterly, so wearily!... But I cannot imagine you failing, you strong young queen, and the women like me, the legion of emptied shells he has left behind—we shall canonize you, Paula, if you shatter the vampire's power."
Thoughts came too fast for speech now. They burned Paula's mind—a destructive activity, because ineffectual. She wanted to speak of the shameful144 experience of the morning, but she could not bring the words to confession145.
"I had almost forgotten," she said lightly at length, "that it is well for one to eat and drink. Stay, won't you please, and share a bite of supper with me, Madame Nestor? We'll talk of other things. I am deadly tired of Bellingham."
A hungry man would have known no repletion146 from the entire offering which sufficed for these two, forgotten of appetite. Wafers of dark bread, a poached egg, pickles147, a heart of lettuce148 and a divided melon, cake and tea—yet how fully they fared!... They were talking about children and fairy tales over the teacups, when Paula encountered again that sinister mental seizure—the occultist's influence creeping back from her reason to that part of the brain man holds in common with animals.... The lights of the room dimmed; her companion became invisible. Bellingham was calling: "Come to me—won't you come and help me in my excellent labors149? Come to me, Paula. We can lift the world together—you and I. Wonderful are the things for me to show you—you who are already so wise and so very beautiful. Paula Linster,—come to me!"
Again and again the words were laid upon her intelligence, until she heard them only. All the rest was an anterior150 murmuring, as of wind and rivers. The words were pressed down upon the surfaces of her brain, like leaf after leaf of gold-beaters' film—and hammered and hammered there.... He was in a great gray room, sitting at a desk, but staring at her, as if there were no walls or streets between—just a little bit of blackness.... She seemed to know just where to go. She felt the place for her was there in the great gray room—a wonderful need for her there.... But a door opened into the room where he sat—a door she had not seen, for she had not taken her eyes from his face. A woman came in, a pale woman, a shell of beauty. The huge tousled head at the desk turned from her to the woman who entered. Paula saw his profile alter hideously....
Her own bright room filled her eyes again, and the ashen151 horror on the countenance152 of Madame Nestor, who seemed vaguely153 to see it all.
"I think I should have gone to him," Paula murmured, in the slow, flat tone of one not yet quite normally conscious.
"There is but one way, you poor distressed154 child—to build about you a fortress155 of purity—which he cannot penetrate——"
"I think I should have known the car to take—the place to enter," Paula went on, unheeding, "the elevator entrance—the door of the room——"
Madame Nestor continued to implore her to pray. Paula shivered finally, and stared at the other for a few seconds, as if recalling the words the visitor had spoken, and the past she had lived with Bellingham. Her terrible rage toward herself spread and covered Madame Nestor. Did not the latter still dip here, there, and everywhere in the occult and weird156? Might she not have something to do with the projectiles157 of Desire?
"I think I'd better be alone now," she said hoarsely158. "One does not feel like invoking159 the Pure Presence—when one is chosen for such defilement160."
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contemplates
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的第三人称单数 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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memorably
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| 难忘的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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banality
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| n.陈腐；平庸；陈词滥调 | |
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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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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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nostril
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| n.鼻孔 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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relishes
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| n.滋味( relish的名词复数 )；乐趣；（大量的）享受；快乐v.欣赏( relish的第三人称单数 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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sag
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| v.下垂，下跌，消沉；n.下垂，下跌，凹陷，[航海]随风漂流 | |
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32
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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33
fabrics
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| 织物( fabric的名词复数 )； 布； 构造； （建筑物的）结构（如墙、地面、屋顶）：质地 | |
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34
wrings
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| 绞( wring的第三人称单数 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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35
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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36
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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37
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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38
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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39
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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40
cleanses
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| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的第三人称单数 ) | |
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41
rinsing
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| n.清水，残渣v.漂洗( rinse的现在分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
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42
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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43
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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44
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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45
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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46
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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47
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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48
ledges
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| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
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49
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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51
falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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52
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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53
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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54
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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55
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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56
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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57
numbing
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| adj.使麻木的，使失去感觉的v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的现在分词 ) | |
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58
volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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59
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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60
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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61
thrall
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| n.奴隶；奴隶制 | |
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62
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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63
pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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64
lyric
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| n.抒情诗，歌词；adj.抒情的 | |
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65
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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66
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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67
effulgent
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| adj.光辉的；灿烂的 | |
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68
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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69
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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70
gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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71
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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72
brotherhoods
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| 兄弟关系( brotherhood的名词复数 )； （总称）同行； （宗教性的）兄弟会； 同业公会 | |
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73
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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74
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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75
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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76
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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77
cults
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| n.迷信( cult的名词复数 )；狂热的崇拜；（有极端宗教信仰的）异教团体 | |
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78
alignment
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| n.队列；结盟，联合 | |
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79
pulpy
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| 果肉状的，多汁的，柔软的； 烂糊； 稀烂 | |
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80
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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81
psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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82
psychics
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| 心理学，心灵学； （自称）通灵的或有特异功能的人，巫师( psychic的名词复数 ) | |
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83
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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84
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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85
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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86
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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87
cinder
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| n.余烬，矿渣 | |
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88
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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89
encompass
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| vt.围绕，包围；包含，包括；完成 | |
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90
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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91
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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92
loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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93
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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94
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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95
disintegration
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| n.分散，解体 | |
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96
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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97
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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98
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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99
curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
diverging
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| 分开( diverge的现在分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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101
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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102
materialism
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| n.［哲］唯物主义，唯物论；物质至上 | |
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103
slays
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的第三人称单数 ) | |
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104
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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105
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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106
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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107
verity
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| n.真实性 | |
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108
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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109
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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110
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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111
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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112
depict
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| vt.描画，描绘；描写，描述 | |
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113
incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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114
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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115
retracing
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| v.折回( retrace的现在分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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116
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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117
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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118
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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119
replenish
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| vt.补充；(把…)装满；(再)填满 | |
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120
vampire
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| n.吸血鬼 | |
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121
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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122
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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123
energize
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| vt.给予(某人或某物)精力、能量 | |
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124
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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125
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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126
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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127
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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128
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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129
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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130
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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131
devouring
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| 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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132
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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133
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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134
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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135
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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136
suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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137
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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138
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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139
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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140
subvert
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| v.推翻；暗中破坏；搅乱 | |
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141
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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142
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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143
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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144
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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145
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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146
repletion
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| n.充满，吃饱 | |
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147
pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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148
lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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149
labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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150
anterior
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| adj.较早的；在前的 | |
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151
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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152
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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153
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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154
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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155
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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156
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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157
projectiles
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| n.抛射体( projectile的名词复数 )；（炮弹、子弹等）射弹，（火箭等）自动推进的武器 | |
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158
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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159
invoking
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| v.援引( invoke的现在分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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160
defilement
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| n.弄脏，污辱，污秽 | |
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