‘I am not yet forty. So when I tell you that twenty years ago I was a mere2 youth I am stating what is a sufficiently3 obvious truth. It is twenty years ago since the events of which I am going to speak transpired5.
‘I lost both my parents when I was quite a lad, and by their death I was left in a position in which I was, to an unusual extent in one so young, my own master. I was ever of a rambling6 turn of mind, and when, at the mature age of eighteen, I left school, I decided7 that I should learn more from travel than from sojourn8 at a university. So, since there was no one to say me nay9, instead of going either to Oxford10 or Cambridge, I went abroad. After a few months I found myself in Egypt,—I was down with fever at Shepheard’s Hotel in Cairo. I had caught it by drinking polluted water during an excursion with some Bedouins to Palmyra.
‘When the fever had left me I went out one night into the town in search of amusement. I went, unaccompanied, into the native quarter, not a wise thing to do, especially at night, but at eighteen one is not always wise, and I was weary of the monotony of the sick-room, and eager for something which had in it a spice of adventure. I found myself in a street which I have reason to believe is no longer existing. It had a French name, and was called the Rue11 de Rabagas,—I saw the name on the corner as I turned into it, and it has left an impress on the tablets of my memory which is never likely to be obliterated12.
‘It was a narrow street, and, of course, a dirty one, ill-lit, and, apparently13, at the moment of my appearance, deserted14. I had gone, perhaps, half-way down its tortuous15 length, blundering more than once into the kennel16, wondering what fantastic whim17 had brought me into such unsavoury quarters, and what would happen to me if, as seemed extremely possible, I lost my way. On a sudden my ears were saluted19 by sounds which proceeded from a house which I was passing,—sounds of music and of singing.
‘I paused. I stood awhile to listen.
‘There was an open window on my right, which was screened by latticed blinds. From the room which was behind these blinds the sounds were coming. Someone was singing, accompanied by an instrument resembling a guitar,—singing uncommonly20 well.’
Mr Lessingham stopped. A stream of recollection seemed to come flooding over him. A dreamy look came into his eyes.
‘I remember it all as clearly as if it were yesterday. How it all comes back,—the dirty street, the evil smells, the imperfect light, the girl’s voice filling all at once the air. It was a girl’s voice,—full, and round, and sweet; an organ seldom met with, especially in such a place as that. She sang a little chansonnette, which, just then, half Europe was humming,—it occurred in an opera which they were acting21 at one of the Boulevard theatres,—“La P’tite Voyageuse.” The effect, coming so unexpectedly, was startling. I stood and heard her to an end.
‘Inspired by I know not what impulse of curiosity, when the song was finished, I moved one of the lattice blinds a little aside, so as to enable me to get a glimpse of the singer. I found myself looking into what seemed to be a sort of café,—one of those places which are found all over the Continent, in which women sing in order to attract custom. There was a low platform at one end of the room, and on it were seated three women. One of them had evidently just been accompanying her own song,—she still had an instrument of music in her hands, and was striking a few idle notes. The other two had been acting as audience. They were attired22 in the fantastic apparel which the women who are found in such places generally wear. An old woman was sitting knitting in a corner, whom I took to be the inevitable23 patronne. With the exception of these four the place was empty.
‘They must have heard me touch the lattice, or seen it moving, for no sooner did I glance within than the three pairs of eyes on the platform were raised and fixed24 on mine. The old woman in the corner alone showed no consciousness of my neighbourhood. We eyed one another in silence for a second or two. Then the girl with the harp25,—the instrument she was manipulating proved to be fashioned more like a harp than a guitar—called out to me,
‘“Entrez, monsieur!—Soyez le bienvenu!”
‘I was a little tired. Rather curious as to whereabouts I was,—the place struck me, even at that first momentary26 glimpse, as hardly in the ordinary line of that kind of thing. And not unwilling27 to listen to a repetition of the former song, or to another sung by the same singer.
‘“On condition,” I replied, “that you sing me another song.”
‘“Ah, monsieur, with the greatest pleasure in the world I will sing you twenty.”
‘She was almost, if not quite, as good as her word. She entertained me with song after song. I may safely say that I have seldom if ever heard melody more enchanting28. All languages seemed to be the same to her. She sang in French and Italian, German and English,—in tongues with which I was unfamiliar29. It was in these Eastern harmonies that she was most successful. They were indescribably weird30 and thrilling, and she delivered them with a verve and sweetness which was amazing. I sat at one of the little tables with which the room was dotted, listening entranced.
‘Time passed more rapidly than I supposed. While she sang I sipped31 the liquor with which the old woman had supplied me. So enthralled32 was I by the display of the girl’s astonishing gifts that I did not notice what it was I was drinking. Looking back I can only surmise33 that it was some poisonous concoction34 of the creature’s own. That one small glass had on me the strangest effect. I was still weak from the fever which I had only just succeeded in shaking off, and that, no doubt, had something to do with the result. But, as I continued to sit, I was conscious that I was sinking into a lethargic35 condition, against which I was incapable36 of struggling.
‘After a while the original performer ceased her efforts, and, her companions taking her place, she came and joined me at the little table. Looking at my watch I was surprised to perceive the lateness of the hour. I rose to leave. She caught me by the wrist.
‘“Do not go,” she said;—she spoke37 English of a sort, and with the queerest accent. “All is well with you. Rest awhile.”
‘You will smile,—I should smile, perhaps, were I the listener instead of you, but it is the simple truth that her touch had on me what I can only describe as a magnetic influence. As her fingers closed upon my wrist, I felt as powerless in her grasp as if she held me with bands of steel. What seemed an invitation was virtually a command. I had to stay whether I would or wouldn’t. She called for more liquor, and at what again was really her command I drank of it. I do not think that after she touched my wrist I uttered a word. She did all the talking. And, while she talked, she kept her eyes fixed on my face. Those eyes of hers! They were a devil’s. I can positively38 affirm that they had on me a diabolical39 effect. They robbed me of my consciousness, of my power of volition40, of my capacity to think,—they made me as wax in her hands. My last recollection of that fatal night is of her sitting in front of me, bending over the table, stroking my wrist with her extended fingers, staring at me with her awful eyes. After that, a curtain seems to descend41. There comes a period of oblivion.’
Mr Lessingham ceased. His manner was calm and self-contained enough; but, in spite of that I could see that the mere recollection of the things which he told me moved his nature to its foundations. There was eloquence42 in the drawn43 lines about his mouth, and in the strained expression of his eyes.
So far his tale was sufficiently commonplace. Places such as the one which he described abound44 in the Cairo of to-day; and many are the Englishmen who have entered them to their exceeding bitter cost. With that keen intuition which has done him yeoman’s service in the political arena46, Mr Lessingham at once perceived the direction my thoughts were taking.
‘You have heard this tale before?—No doubt. And often. The traps are many, and the fools and the unwary are not a few. The singularity of my experience is still to come. You must forgive me if I seem to stumble in the telling. I am anxious to present my case as baldly, and with as little appearance of exaggeration as possible. I say with as little appearance, for some appearance of exaggeration I fear is unavoidable. My case is so unique, and so out of the common run of our every-day experience, that the plainest possible statement must smack47 of the sensational48.
‘As, I fancy, you have guessed, when understanding returned to me, I found myself in an apartment with which I was unfamiliar. I was lying, undressed, on a heap of rugs in a corner of a low-pitched room which was furnished in a fashion which, when I grasped the details, filled me with amazement49. By my side knelt the Woman of the Songs. Leaning over, she wooed my mouth with kisses. I cannot describe to you the sense of horror and of loathing50 with which the contact of her lips oppressed me. There was about her something so unnatural51, so inhuman52, that I believe even then I could have destroyed her with as little sense of moral turpitude53 as if she had been some noxious54 insect.
‘“Where am I?” I exclaimed.
‘“You are with the children of Isis,” she replied. What she meant I did not know, and do not to this hour. “You are in the hands of the great goddess,—of the mother of men.”
‘“How did I come here?”
‘“By the loving kindness of the great mother.”
‘I do not, of course, pretend to give you the exact text of her words, but they were to that effect.
‘The place in which I was, though the reverse of lofty, was of considerable size,—I could not conceive whereabouts it could be. The walls and roof were of bare stone,—as though the whole had been hewed56 out of the solid rock. It seemed to be some sort of temple, and was redolent with the most extraordinary odour. An altar stood about the centre, fashioned out of a single block of stone. On it a fire burned with a faint blue flame,—the fumes57 which rose from it were no doubt chiefly responsible for the prevailing58 perfumes. Behind it was a huge bronze figure, more than life size. It was in a sitting posture59, and represented a woman. Although it resembled no portrayal60 of her I have seen either before or since, I came afterwards to understand that it was meant for Isis. On the idol’s brow was poised61 a beetle62. That the creature was alive seemed clear, for, as I looked at it, it opened and shut its wings.
‘If the one on the forehead of the goddess was the only live beetle which the place contained, it was not the only representation. It was modelled in the solid stone of the roof, and depicted63 in flaming colours on hangings which here and there were hung against the walls. Wherever the eye turned it rested on a scarab. The effect was bewildering. It was as though one saw things through the distorted glamour64 of a nightmare. I asked myself if I were not still dreaming; if my appearance of consciousness were not after all a mere delusion65; if I had really regained66 my senses.
‘And, here, Mr Champnell, I wish to point out, and to emphasise67 the fact, that I am not prepared to positively affirm what portion of my adventures in that extraordinary, and horrible place, was actuality, and what the product of a feverish68 imagination. Had I been persuaded that all I thought I saw, I really did see, I should have opened my lips long ago, let the consequences to myself have been what they might. But there is the crux69. The happenings were of such an incredible character, and my condition was such an abnormal one,—I was never really myself from the first moment to the last—that I have hesitated, and still do hesitate, to assert where, precisely70, fiction ended and fact began.
‘With some misty71 notion of testing my actual condition I endeavoured to get off the heap of rugs on which I reclined. As I did so the woman at my side laid her hand against my chest, lightly. But, had her gentle pressure been the equivalent of a ton of iron, it could not have been more effectual. I collapsed72, sank back upon the rugs, and lay there, panting for breath, wondering if I had crossed the border line which divides madness from sanity73.
‘“Nay,” she murmured, “stay with me yet awhile, O my beloved.”
‘And again she kissed me.’
Once more Mr Lessingham paused. An involuntary shudder75 went all over him. In spite of the evidently great effort which he was making to retain his self-control his features were contorted by an anguished76 spasm77. For some seconds he seemed at a loss to find words to enable him to continue.
When he did go on, his voice was harsh and strained.
‘I am altogether incapable of even hinting to you the nauseous nature of that woman’s kisses. They filled me with an indescribable repulsion. I look back at them with a feeling of physical, mental, and moral horror, across an interval78 of twenty years. The most dreadful part of it was that I was wholly incapable of offering even the faintest resistance to her caresses79. I lay there like a log. She did with me as she would, and in dumb agony I endured.’
He took his handkerchief from his pocket, and, although the day was cool, with it he wiped the perspiration80 from his brow.
‘To dwell in detail on what occurred during my involuntary sojourn in that fearful place is beyond my power. I cannot even venture to attempt it. The attempt, were it made, would be futile81, and, to me, painful beyond measure. I seem to have seen all that happened as in a glass darkly,—with about it all an element of unreality. As I have already remarked, the things which revealed themselves, dimly, to my perception, seemed too bizarre, too hideous82, to be true.
‘It was only afterwards, when I was in a position to compare dates, that I was enabled to determine what had been the length of my imprisonment83. It appears that I was in that horrible den18 more than two months,—two unspeakable months. And the whole time there were comings and goings, a phantasmagoric array of eerie84 figures continually passed to and fro before my hazy85 eyes. What I judge to have been religious services took place; in which the altar, the bronze image, and the beetle on its brow, figure largely. Not only were they conducted with a bewildering confusion of mysterious rites86, but, if my memory is in the least degree trustworthy, they were orgies of nameless horrors. I seem to have seen things take place at them at the mere thought of which the brain reels and trembles.
‘Indeed it is in connection with the cult87 of the obscene deity88 to whom these wretched creatures paid their scandalous vows89 that my most awful memories seem to have been associated. It may have been—I hope it was, a mirage90 born of my half delirious91 state, but it seemed to me that they offered human sacrifices.’
When Mr Lessingham said this, I pricked92 up my ears. For reasons of my own, which will immediately transpire4, I had been wondering if he would make any reference to a human sacrifice. He noted93 my display of interest,—but misapprehended the cause.
‘I see you start, I do not wonder. But I repeat that unless I was the victim of some extraordinary species of double sight—in which case the whole business would resolve itself into the fabric94 of a dream, and I should indeed thank God!—I saw, on more than one occasion, a human sacrifice offered on that stone altar, presumably to the grim image which looked down on it. And, unless I err95, in each case the sacrificial object was a woman, stripped to the skin, as white as you or I,—and before they burned her they subjected her to every variety of outrage96 of which even the minds of demons97 could conceive. More than once since then I have seemed to hear the shrieks98 of the victims ringing through the air, mingled99 with the triumphant100 cries of her frenzied101 murderers, and the music of their harps102.
‘It was the cumulative103 horrors of such a scene which gave me the strength, or the courage, or the madness, I know not which it was, to burst the bonds which bound me, and which, even in the bursting, made of me, even to this hour, a haunted man.
‘There had been a sacrifice,—unless, as I have repeatedly observed, the whole was nothing but a dream. A woman—a young and lovely Englishwoman, if I could believe the evidence of my own eyes, had been outraged104, and burnt alive, while I lay there helpless, looking on. The business was concluded. The ashes of the victim had been consumed by the participants. The worshippers had departed. I was left alone with the woman of the songs, who apparently acted as the guardian105 of that worse than slaughterhouse. She was, as usual after such an orgie, rather a devil than a human being, drunk with an insensate frenzy106, delirious with inhuman longings107. As she approached to offer to me her loathed108 caresses, I was on a sudden conscious of something which I had not felt before when in her company. It was as though something had slipped away from me,—some weight which had oppressed me, some bond by which I had been bound. I was aroused, all at once, to a sense of freedom; to a knowledge that the blood which coursed through my veins109 was after all my own, that I was master of my own honour.
‘I can only suppose that through all those weeks she had kept me there in a state of mesmeric stupor110. That, taking advantage of the weakness which the fever had left behind, by the exercise of her diabolical arts, she had not allowed me to pass out of a condition of hypnotic trance. Now, for some reason, the cord was loosed. Possibly her absorption in her religious duties had caused her to forget to tighten111 it. Anyhow, as she approached me, she approached a man, and one who, for the first time for many a day, was his own man. She herself seemed wholly unconscious of anything of the kind. As she drew nearer to me, and nearer, she appeared to be entirely112 oblivious113 of the fact that I was anything but the fibreless, emasculated creature which, up to that moment, she had made of me.
‘But she knew it when she touched me,—when she stooped to press her lips to mine. At that instant the accumulating rage which had been smouldering in my breast through all those leaden torturing hours, sprang into flame. Leaping off my couch of rugs, I flung my hands about her throat,—and then she knew I was awake. Then she strove to tighten the cord which she had suffered to become unduly114 loose. Her baleful eyes were fixed on mine. I knew that she was putting out her utmost force to trick me of my manhood. But I fought with her like one possessed115, and I conquered—in a fashion. I compressed her throat with my two hands as with an iron vice45. I knew that I was struggling for more than life, that the odds116 were all against me, that I was staking my all upon the casting of a die,—I stuck at nothing which could make me victor.
‘Tighter and tighter my pressure grew,—I did not stay to think if I was killing117 her—till on a sudden—’
Mr Lessingham stopped. He stared with fixed, glassy eyes, as if the whole was being re-enacted in front of him. His voice faltered118. I thought he would break down. But, with an effort, he continued.
‘On a sudden, I felt her slipping from between my fingers. Without the slightest warning, in an instant she had vanished, and where, not a moment before, she herself had been, I found myself confronting a monstrous119 beetle,—a huge, writhing120 creation of some wild nightmare.
‘At first the creature stood as high as I did. But, as I stared at it, in stupefied amazement,—as you may easily imagine,—the thing dwindled121 while I gazed. I did not stop to see how far the process of dwindling122 continued,—a stark123 raving124 madman for the nonce, I fled as if all the fiends in hell were at my heels.’
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1
fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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transpire
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| v.(使)蒸发，(使)排出 ；泄露，公开 | |
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transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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7
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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12
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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14
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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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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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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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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sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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concoction
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| n.调配(物)；谎言 | |
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lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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41
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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42
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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43
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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46
arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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48
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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49
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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50
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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51
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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52
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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53
turpitude
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| n.可耻；邪恶 | |
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54
noxious
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| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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56
hewed
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| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的过去式和过去分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
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57
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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portrayal
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| n.饰演；描画 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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62
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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63
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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66
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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emphasise
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| vt.加强...的语气，强调，着重 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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crux
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| adj.十字形；难事，关键，最重要点 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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72
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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73
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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76
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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81
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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102
harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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103
cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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104
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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105
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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106
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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107
longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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108
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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109
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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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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111
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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112
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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113
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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114
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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115
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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116
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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117
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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118
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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119
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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120
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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121
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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123
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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