Charter was seized with vertigo1. It was his sorry thought that the old scar-tissues, however bravely they sufficed in the days of easy-going, could not endure a crux2 like this. But he was wrong. It was the shock to his spirit, which made of Selma Cross a giantess of vague outlines in a room filled with swimming objects. Need for the woman of his visions had culminated3 in the outer hall. In the substitution there was an inner wrench4, which to one of Charter's intense concentration was like a stroke; and then, too, the horrible outburst of energy in adjusting the Skylark spirit to the eminent5 flesh of this old plaything of his, left him drained. He steadied himself into the music-room, and sank into a deep chair, where his heart pumped furiously, but light and empty, as if it could not grip the blood locked in his veins6.
He sat in a sort of trance, glimpses of many thoughts running through his brain. He deserved punishment. That was all very well, but something was wrong here. The premonition became a reality in his consciousness that he had entered upon a great desert; that he was to endure again one of his terrible thirsts; not a throat-thirst alone, but a soul-thirst. In the atmosphere of the woman, in the very odor of the room, he felt the old impassioned lyric-maker crush back into the dominance of his mind with all the impish exultation7 of that lower self. Pride asserted itself now. What an idiot passage in the career of a rising writer! He should always remember with shame this coming to New York—a youthful Marius in whose veins was injected mid-summer madness—coming to this city (where dollar-work is king and plumaged-woman queen) with an abortive9 conception from garret dreams.... A strong white light fell upon the leather cover of her reading-table, but their faces were in shadow, like the hundred actor faces in photograph upon the wall and mantel. Selma Cross was studying him keenly. The emptiness of it all was so pervading10—as his blood began to move again—that he laughed aloud.
"Do you know," Selma Cross said softly, "I thought at first you had been drinking too much. I hardly knew you otherwise, remember. Shall I tell you what added thought came to me, as you crossed the floor so unsteadily—looking so white?"
"Locomotor ataxia, I suppose. I hear it is getting quite the thing for middle-generation New Yorkers.... I expected to see you a little later in your new play, but not here—to-night——"
"That is what I thought—that incurable12 thing. You seem floored. I didn't know a woman could do that. In the old days, you were adaptable13—if nothing else."
His collar felt tight, and he stretched it out, needing more air in his lungs and more blood in his brain. It was clear enough to him now how Skylark had been stricken. The real devastation14 was that she belonged to this sort of thing at all; that she could consent to this trick, this trap. It was all so different from the consummate15 fineness, the pervading delicacy16, of all Skylark thoughts. Having consented to the trick, might she not be listening?... He did not mind her hearing; indeed, he might say things which were needful for her to know—but that she should listen! He writhed17. This was not his Skylark at all.... It was hardly Charter's way now to plunge18 into the centre of things. There was a feline19 elegance20 in the manner and movement of Selma Cross; she seemed so delightfully21 at ease, that he was willing to make it a bit harder for her.
"I suppose I was more adaptable formerly," he said slowly. "It is something, however, suddenly to encounter an old friend who has made good so fearfully and tremendously in the past week. Of course, I had read all about it. Still, I repeat it was an experience to encounter your stardom actually on the boards; and more of an experience to find you here. I'm really very glad that you secured the one great vehicle. As for your work—few know its quality better than I."
She studied him long, her eyes glowing behind the narrowed lids. "As for that, you've been biting the flaky top-crust, too," she said finally. "I never doubted what you could do in your game, but I confess I feared that whiskey would beat you to it.... Do you know you are wonderfully changed—so white, so lean? Your work has come to me since you went away; what else have you been doing?—I mean, to change you so finely."
"Garret."
Her brow clouded at the word. It was as if she had expected to laugh at him long before this. "Did any woman ever tell you that you're rather a mean sort, Quentin Charter?"
"Doubtless I have deserved it," he answered. "What are you thinking?"
"I was thinking of your garret—where you gather your victims for vivisection."
"That's put very clearly."
"Do you think this is big-man stuff?"
"My case is rather an ugly one to look back upon, truly," Charter granted. "For a long time, it appeared to me that I must learn things at first-hand. With first-water talents, perhaps this is not necessary."
"A woman finally brings a man face to face," she said with sudden scorn, "and he becomes limp, agrees with everything she says.... 'Yes, it is quite true, I was an awful beast. What else, dear?'—ugh!"
Charter smiled. She was very swift and deft22 in supplying a man's evil motives23. It is a terrible feminine misfortune—this gift of imputing—and happy women do not possess it. Few men, incidentally, are deep enough to avail themselves of all the crafts and cunnings with which they may be accredited24.
"I have no intention of destroying the slightest gratification you may draw, Selma, from questioning me," he said. "If I appear limp, please remember that I'm a bit in the dark as yet. I came to this floor on a different errand. I had this errand in mind—not self-examination. However, I'll attend now in all sincerity25. You were speaking of my victims for vivisection in the garret."
She appeared not to trust him in the least. "I've always wanted to know if you believed—what an apprentice26 I really was in love—give-and-take—when you came?"
"That was easily believed, Selma——"
"I didn't think you were acting——"
"Then you were acting, because when the time came—you dropped me quite as easily as you would drop a street-cur you had been pleased to feed."
"Just there you are a bit in error. I was furiously interested, and certainly not acting altogether, until——"
"Yes, if you will." He was irritated for a second, having meant to say something entirely29 different.
"A woman so loves to hear that a man's passion for her depends upon his drinking!"
"I have always been very fond of and grateful to you. It was the whole life that the drinking carried me into—that I had such horror for when, when I became well."
"You got well very suddenly after you left me," she told him. Her huge face was livid, and her lips dry.
"On the contrary, I was a long time ill." Her temper chilled his attempts at sincerity.
"I say it with shame, I was practically unable to write. I was burnt out when I left here. I had been to Asia—gone from home seven months—and the returning fool permitted the bars to welcome him——"
"Silence would have been far better," he said. "I see that now. My only idea was to let you hear. Writing myself was out of the question by that time."
"You wrote an article about stage people—with all the loftiness of an anæmic priest."
"That was written before I left here—written and delivered——"
"All the worse, that you could write such an article—while you were spending so much time with me."
"I have never belittled33 what you gave me, Selma. I could praise you, without admiring the stage. You are amazingly different. I think that's why New York is talking about you to-night. I had made many trips to New York and knew many stage people, before I met you. If you had belonged to the type familiar to me, I should have needed a stronger stimulus34 than drink to force an interest. Had there been others like you—had I even encountered 'five holy ones in the city'—I should not have written that stage article, or others before it."
"You were one with the Broadway Glowworms, Quentin Charter. Few of them drank so steadily11 as you."
"I have already told you that for a long time I was an unutterable fool. Until three years ago, I did not begin to know—the breath of life."
Selma Cross arose and paced the room, stretching out her great arms from time to time as she walked. "You're getting back your glibness," she exclaimed, "your quick little sentences which fit in so nicely! Ah, I know them well, as other women are learning them. But I have things which you cannot answer so easily—you of the garret penances35.... You find a starved woman of thirty—play with her for a fortnight, showing her everything that she can desire, and seeming to have no thought, but of her. I discover that there was not a moment in which you were so ardent36 that you forgot to be an analyst37. I forgive that, as you might forgive things in my day's work. You put on your gray garret-garb, and forget the hearts of my people, to uncover their weaknesses before the world—you, so recently one of us, and none more drunk or drained with the dawn—than you! Such preaching is not good to the nostrils38, but I forgive that. You are sick, and even the drink won't warm you, so you leave me at a moment's notice——"
"There was another reason."
"Hear me out, first," she commanded.... "To you, it is just, 'Adios, my dear'; to me, it is an uprooting—oh, I don't mind telling you. I was overturned in that furrow39, left naked for the long burning day, but I remembered my work—the work you despise! I, who had reason to know how noble your pen can be, forgave even those first paltry40 letters, filled with excuses such as a cheap clerk might write. I forgave the dictation, because it said you were ill—forgave the silences.... But when you came to New York six months afterwards, and did not so much as 'phone or send me a card of greeting—Selma called in her silly tears."
"It was vile41 ingratitude42," he said earnestly. "That's where my big fault lay. I wonder if you would try to understand the only palliation. You were strangely generous and wonderful in your ways. I did not cease to think of that. Personally, you are far above the things I came to abhor43. No one understands but the victim, what alcohol does to a man when it gets him down. I tried to kill myself. I became convalescent literally44 by force. Slowly approaching the normal again, I was glad enough to live, but the horrors never leave the mind entirely. Everything connected with the old life filled me with shuddering45 fear. I tell you no one hates alcohol like a drunkard fresh in his reform."
"But I did not make you drink," she said impatiently. "I'm not a drink-loving woman."
Charter's face flushed. The interview was becoming a farce46. It had been agony for him to make this confession47. She would not see that he realized his ingratitude; that it was his derangement48 caused by indulging low propensities49 which made him identify her with the days of evil.
"I know that very well, Selma Cross," he said wearily, "but the stage is a part of that old life, that sick night-life that runs eternally around the belt-line."
She hated him for reverting50 to this point. Holding fast to what she still had to say, the actress picked up a broken thread. "You said there was another reason why you left New York so suddenly."
Charter expected now to learn if any one were listening. He was cold with the thought of the interview being weighed in the balances of a third mind.
"You've made a big point of my going away," he essayed. "The other reason is not a pretty matter, and doubtless you will call any repugnance51 of mine an affectation——"
"Repugnance—what do you mean?" she asked savagely52, yet she was afraid, afraid of his cool tongue. "I never lied to you."
"That may be true. I'm not curious for evidence to the contrary. The day before I left for the West, a friend told me that you and I were being watched; that all our movements were known. I didn't believe it; could not see the sense—until it was proved that same night by the devious53 walk we took.... You doubtless remember the face of that young night-bird whom we once laughed about. We thought it just one of those coincidences which frequently occur—a certain face bobbing up everywhere for a number of days. I assured myself that night that you knew nothing of this remarkable54 outside interest in our affairs."
Selma Cross, with swift stealth, disappeared into the apartment-hall and closed the outer door; then returned, facing him. Her yellow eyes were wide open, filled with a misty55, tortured look. To Charter the place and the woman had become haggard with emptiness. He missed the occasional click of the elevator in the outer-hall, for it had seemed to keep him in touch with the world's activities. The old carnal magnetism56 of Selma Cross stirred not a tissue in him now; the odor of her garments which once roused him, was forbidding. He had not the strength to believe that the door had been shut for any other reason than to prevent Skylark from hearing. The actress had not minded how their voices carried, so long as he was being arraigned57.... The air was devitalized. It was as if they were dying of heart-break—without a sound.... It had been so wonderful—this thought of finding his mate after the æons, his completion—a woman beautiful with soul-age and spiritual light....
Selma Cross was speaking. Charter stirred from his great trouble. She was changed, no longer the clever mistress of a dramatic hour.... Each was so burdened with a personal tragedy that pity for the other was slow to warm between them.
"Do you mean that old Villiers paid the night-bird to watch us—to learn where we went, and possibly what we said?" she was saying hoarsely58. Selma Cross felt already that her cad was exploded.
"Yes, and that was unpleasant," Charter told her. "I didn't like the feel of that procurer's eyes, but what revolted me was Villiers himself. I took pains to learn his name the next day—that last day. There isn't a more unclean human package in New York.... It was so unlike you. I couldn't adjust the two. I couldn't be where he had been. I was sick with my own degradation59. I went back to my garret."
Selma Cross was crippled; she saw there was no lie in this. At what a price had been bought the restoration of faith for Paula Linster!... She had heard after their compact about Villiers' early days. There had been times when her fingers itched60 to tighten61 upon his scrawny throat. To have Quentin Charter hear this record was fire in her veins; it embraced the added horror that Stephen Cabot might also hear.... There was nothing further with which to charge the man before her. She nursed her wrath62 to keep from crying out.
"Was it a man's way to give me no chance to explain?" she demanded.
"Broadway knew Villiers."
"I did not!"
"Anyway, I couldn't get it straight in my mind, then," Charter said hastily. "You're no vulgar woman, mad after colors and dollars. You love your work too much to be one of those insatiable deserts of passion. Nor are you a creature of black evolution who prefers the soul, to the body of man, for a plaything.... You were all that was generous and normally fervent63 with me.... Let's cut the subject. It does not excuse me for not calling when I came to New York. You were nothing if not good to me."
"Then Villiers paid to find out things about us," she said slowly. "He said you bragged64 about such matters to your friends."
Charter shivered. "I fail to see how you troubled about a man not writing—if you could believe that about him."
"I didn't see how he could know our places of meeting—any other way. I should never have seen him again, if he hadn't made me believe this of you."
Charter scarcely heard her. The thought was inevitable65 now that the actress might have represented him to Skylark as one with the loathed66 habit of talking about women to his friends. The quick inclination67 to inquire could not overcome his distaste for mentioning a dear name in this room. The radiant, flashing spirit behind the letters did not belong here.... His brain ached with emptiness; he wondered continually how he could ever fill the spaces expanded by the Skylark's singing....
In the brain of Selma Cross a furious struggle was joined. Never before had she been given to see so clearly her own limitations—and this in the high light of her great dramatic triumph. Her womanhood contained that mighty69 quality of worshiping intellect. This, she had loved in Charter long ago; in Stephen Cabot now. The inner key to her greatness was her capacity to forget the animal in man—if he proved a brain. There is only one higher reverence—that of forgetting brain to worship soul. Perceiving the attitude of Quentin Charter to her old life, it was made clear to her that she must preserve a lie in her relation with Stephen Cabot; if, indeed, the playwright70 did not learn outside, as Charter had done. It was plain that he did not know yet, since he had not run from her—to a garret somewhere. What a hideous71 mockery was this night—begun in pride! Distantly she was grateful that Paula Linster was at hand to be restored, but her own mind was whipped and cowed by its thoughts—so there was little energy for another's romance.... Charter had made no comment on her last remark. She realized now that his thoughts were bearing him close to the truth.
"You say they forced you to cast out your enemy," she declared hoarsely. "I cast out mine of my own accord. If there is palliation for you, there should be for a woman in her first experience. You asked me to stretch my imagination about a drink-reaction making you avoid me. I ask you, how is a woman, for the first time alone with a man—to know that he is different from other men? Add to this, a woman who has come up from the dregs—for years in the midst of the slum-blooms of the chorus? What I heard from them of their nights—would have taxed the versatility72 of even Villiers—to make me see him lower than I expected! I ask you—how did I know he was an exception—rather than the rule among the Glowworms?"
"I'm rather glad you said that," Charter declared quickly. "It's a point of view I'm grateful for. Do you wonder that the life from which you have risen to one of the regnant queens has become inseparable in my mind with shuddering aversion?"
In the extremity73 of her suffering, her mind had reverted74, as an artist's always does when desperately75 pressed, to thoughts of work—work, the healer, the refuge where devils truly are cast out. Even in her work she now encountered the lash68, since Charter despised it. Literally, she was at bay before him.
"Always that!" she cried. "It is detestable in you always to blame my work. I broke training. I should have won without the damned angel. You degraded yourself for years in your work, but I don't hear you blaming art for your debaucheries! You have sat alone so long that you think all men outside are foul76. You sit high in your attic77, so that all men look like bugs78 below!"
"There is something in what you say," he answered, aroused by her bigness and strength. "Yet in my garret, I do not deal with rootless abstractions. Everything has its foundation in actual observation. I moved long among the play-managers, and found them men of huckster-minds—brainless money-bags, dependent upon every passing wind of criticism. I tell you, when one talked to them or to their office-apes—one felt himself, his inner-self, rushing forth79 as if to fill something bottomless——"
"You do not know Vhruebert——"
"Eliminate him. I am not speaking of any particular man. I do not mean all playwrights80 when I say that I found playwrights as a class, not literary workers—but literary tricksters. I am not speaking of The Thing, nor of its author, of whom I have heard excellent word—when I say that plays are not written, but rewritten by elementals, who, through their sheer coarseness, sense the slow vibrations81 of the mob, and feculate the original lines to suit."
"Bah—an idea from one of your nights, when you tried to drown the blue devils! It broods over all your thinking! You forget the great army, that silent army, which is continually lifting itself artistically82 by writing one after another—impossible plays. You forget the great hearts of the players—men and women who pull together for big results."
"I am not speaking of the vast library of manuscript failures, but of a small proportion which get into the sinister83 glare of Broadway——"
"My God, Broadway is not New York!"
"For which I am powerfully glad," he answered with energy. "As for warm human hearts—there is warmth and loyalty84, genuine tears and decent hopes in every brothel and bar—yet the black trends of their existence course on. This was so hard for me to learn, that I have it very clearly.... I remember the opening night of Martha Boardman as a star—telegrams pouring in, critics besieging85 her dressing-room. Even her manager didn't know what he had, until the critics told him the play would stay in New York a year—yet his name was on the boards above the star and bigger than the author's. I watched the bleak86, painted faces of the women and heard their false voices acclaiming87 the new star. What they had in their hearts was not praise, but envy. Their words were sham8, indecency and lying. Eternally simulating—that's the stage life. Pity the women—poor Maachas, if you will—but their work is damnable, nevertheless. It is from such unhappy creatures evading88 motherhood that youths get the abominable89 notion that real manhood lies in the loins."
"Poor youths—go on! When you have finished I shall tell you something."
"Don't misunderstand me, Selma Cross. No one knows better than I—how the sexes prey90 upon each other—how they drag each other to the ground. Only I was thinking of the poor things in ties, canes91, cigarettes and coatings—out catching92!... I saw the whole horrid93, empty game of the stage. You have come wonderfully and differently into the glare, but let me ask where is Martha Boardman to-night—a few short years later?"
"Yes, she was tired, her energy burned out, when she finally arrived. It's a stiff grade," Selma Cross said gently.
"I would explain it, that she was prostituted from excessive simulation—season after season of simulation—emotion after emotion false to herself! The Law says, 'Live your own life.' The Stage says, 'Act mine,'—so pitiably often a poor playwright's abortive sensations! What can happen to a body that continually makes of itself a lying instrument? Like the queen-bee whose whole life is made up of egg-laying—the brain of this poor purveyor94 of emotions becomes a waxy95 pulp96. As for her soul—it is in God's hands—let us hope."
"It is good to laugh at you, Quentin Charter. You have another appetite. You wanted alcohol when I knew you first—now you thirst after purists and winged women. I have a lover now who can live among men, soar just as high as you do, work with just as much greatness and strength, without ever having degraded himself or believed all human creatures vile. The stage has its shams97, its mockeries, but its glories, too. It is not all deranged98 by money-bags. The most brilliant of your writers give us our lines—the most wonderful of your mystics. It is true we simulate; true that ours is a constant giving; but call in your garret-high logic99 now, Sir Prophet: Look at the tired empty faces of my company, look at mine, after we have finished The Thing; then look at the strengthened grip on life and the lifted hopes which, each night, the multitude takes from out our breasts—and call ours a prostitution, if you can!"
Charter arose and extended his hand, which she took gracelessly, but was instantly sorry that she had misjudged his intent.
"Can't you see, Selma Cross, that you and I have no difference, no point for argument, if the general run of plays were like The Thing—as you make me see it? We had eliminated this from the discussion, but I have nothing but praise for Vhruebert, nothing but enthusiasm for Mr. Cabot and for you—if the combination gives the people an expansion of hope and a lifted ideal. Do that, and you need not reckon with critics."
Instantly she changed her point of view again, so that he was both chilled and puzzled. "I should have been glad to come out in any successful play," she said wearily. "The Thing just happens to have an uplift——"
"So much is accomplished100 for you, then. You will never be content again with a play that has not. Oh, I don't mean ostensible101 good, melodramatically contrasted with obvious bad, but the subtle inspiration of real artists—that marvellous flexibility102 of line and largeness of meaning that fits about every life! Just as you can draw fresh strength again and again from a great poem; so, in performing a great play—one does not act, but lives!"
"Are you going?" she questioned absently.
"Yes, I confess I haven't been so consumed in years——"
She drew close to him.... "It has been dramatic, if not literary, hasn't it?" Her nostrils dilated103 and her lower lip was drawn104 back between her teeth.
He smiled.
"I feel burnt out, too," she went on softly. "It has been strange to be with you again—almost like—those early mornings.... Did you ever hear me calling you—'way off there in the West? I used to lie awake, all feverish105 after you went away, calling in a whisper, 'Quentin—Quentin!...' It seemed you must come, if you were alive. There were times after you went away, that I would have given this week's victory, which I saw from afar,—to have you rush in for just one hour!... In God's name," she cried suddenly, "is there really this sort of honor in living man—is it because you hate me—or do you have to drink to take a woman in your arms? You, who used to be—singing flames?"
Charter was not unattracted, but his self-command was strangely imperious. There was magnetism now in the old passion—but a flutter of wings broke the attraction.... Darkness covered the wings, and the song was stilled; yet in that faint rustling106, was enchantment107 which changed to brute108 matter—these open arms and the rising breast.
"I'm afraid it is as you said—about the anæmic priest," he muttered laughingly.... And then it occurred to him that there might have been a trick to her tempting109.... From this point he was sexless and could pity her, though his nerves were raw from her verbal punishments. It was altogether new in his experience—this word-whipping; and though he had not sharpened a sentence in retaliation110, he could not but see the ghastly way in which a woman is betrayed by her temper, which checks a man's passion like a sudden fright. Between a woman given to rages and her lover—lies a naked sword. Consummate, in truth, is the siren who has mastered the art of silence.... Selma Cross sank back into a chair. The world's wear was on her brow and under her eyes, as she laughed bitterly.
"You always had a way of making me sick of life," she said strangely. "I wonder if ever there was a humiliation111 so artistically complete as mine?"
This was another facet112 to the prism of the woman. Charter could not be quite certain as to her present intent, so frequently alternating had been the currents of her emotion during the interview. Typically an actress, she had run through her whole range of effects. He was not prepared yet to say which was trick, which reality; which was the woman, Selma Cross, or the tragedienne. He did not miss the thought that his theory was amazingly strengthened here—the theory that moral derangement results from excessive simulation.
"You—would—not—kiss—me," she repeated. "For my own sake, I'd like to believe—that you're trying to be true to some one,—but it's all rot that there are men like that! It's because I no longer tempt30 you—you spook!"
"You said you had a lover——"
She shivered. "You left me unfinished." There was a tragic113 plaint in her tone, and she added hastily, "There was a reason for my trying you.... I think the most corroding114 of the knives you have left in me to-night, is that you have refused to ask why I brought you here—refused even to utter the name—of the woman you expected to see—in my presence.... You may be a man; you may be a cad; you may be a new appetite, or a God resurrected out of a Glowworm. I either hate or love you—or both—to the point of death! Either way—remember this—I'll be square as a die—to you and to my friend. You'll begin to see what I mean—to-morrow, I think...."
He was at the door. "Good-night," he said and touched the signal for the elevator.
She called him back, "Come and see me—at my best—at the Herriot—won't you?"
"Yes——"
"But tell me what performance—and where your seat is——"
"... Good-night."
The car stopped at the floor.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
vertigo
|
|
| n.眩晕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
crux
|
|
| adj.十字形；难事，关键，最重要点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
culminated
|
|
| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
wrench
|
|
| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
eminent
|
|
| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
exultation
|
|
| n.狂喜，得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
sham
|
|
| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
abortive
|
|
| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
pervading
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
incurable
|
|
| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
adaptable
|
|
| adj.能适应的，适应性强的，可改编的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
devastation
|
|
| n.毁坏；荒废；极度震惊或悲伤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
consummate
|
|
| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
writhed
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
feline
|
|
| adj.猫科的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
deft
|
|
| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
accredited
|
|
| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
apprentice
|
|
| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
sneer
|
|
| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
tempt
|
|
| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
dictate
|
|
| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
belittled
|
|
| 使显得微小，轻视，贬低( belittle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
stimulus
|
|
| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
penances
|
|
| n.（赎罪的）苦行，苦修( penance的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
analyst
|
|
| n.分析家，化验员；心理分析学家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
furrow
|
|
| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
paltry
|
|
| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
ingratitude
|
|
| n.忘恩负义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
abhor
|
|
| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
farce
|
|
| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
derangement
|
|
| n.精神错乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
propensities
|
|
| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
reverting
|
|
| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
repugnance
|
|
| n.嫌恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
devious
|
|
| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
magnetism
|
|
| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
arraigned
|
|
| v.告发( arraign的过去式和过去分词 )；控告；传讯；指责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
hoarsely
|
|
| adv.嘶哑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
itched
|
|
| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
tighten
|
|
| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
fervent
|
|
| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
bragged
|
|
| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
loathed
|
|
| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
lash
|
|
| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
playwright
|
|
| n.剧作家，编写剧本的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
versatility
|
|
| n.多才多艺，多样性，多功能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
reverted
|
|
| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
attic
|
|
| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
bugs
|
|
| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
playwrights
|
|
| n.剧作家( playwright的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
vibrations
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
artistically
|
|
| adv.艺术性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
besieging
|
|
| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
bleak
|
|
| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
acclaiming
|
|
| 向…欢呼( acclaim的现在分词 )； 向…喝彩； 称赞…； 欢呼或拥戴（某人）为… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
evading
|
|
| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
abominable
|
|
| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
canes
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
purveyor
|
|
| n.承办商，伙食承办商 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
waxy
|
|
| adj.苍白的；光滑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
pulp
|
|
| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
shams
|
|
| 假象( sham的名词复数 )； 假货； 虚假的行为（或感情、言语等）； 假装…的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
deranged
|
|
| adj.疯狂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
ostensible
|
|
| adj.(指理由)表面的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
flexibility
|
|
| n.柔韧性，弹性，（光的）折射性，灵活性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
dilated
|
|
| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
enchantment
|
|
| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
tempting
|
|
| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
retaliation
|
|
| n.报复，反击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
humiliation
|
|
| n.羞辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
facet
|
|
| n.(问题等的)一个方面；(多面体的)面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
corroding
|
|
| 使腐蚀，侵蚀( corrode的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |