Gilderoy was a rich city and a populous11, turbulent withal, holding honourable13 charters from the King, exceeding proud of its own freedom. Its Guilds14 were the wealthiest in all the south; the coffers of its Commune overflowed15 with gold. Nowhere was fairer cloth woven than in Gilderoy. Nowhere could be found more cunning smiths, more subtle armourers. The mansions17 of its rich merchant folk were wondrous18 opulent and great, bedight with goodly tapestry19 and all manner of rare furniture. Painters had gathered to it from the far south; its courtezans were the joy of the whole kingdom.
Two days after his confessions20 on the cliff, Fulviac took horse, mounted Yeoland on a white palfrey, and rode for Gilderoy through the forest. The man was upholstered as a merchant, in a plum-coloured cloak, a cap of sables21, and a Venetian mail cape22. Yeoland wore a light blue jupon edged with silver, a green kirtle, a cloak of brocaded Tartarin. She rode beside the man, demure23 as a daughter, her bridle24 of scarlet25 leather merry with silver bells. Two armed servants and some six packhorses completed the cavalcade26.
Fulviac had fallen into one of his silent moods that day. He was saturnine27 and enigmatic as though immersed in thought. The girl won nothing from him as to the purpose of their ride. They were for Gilderoy; thus much he vouchsafed28 her, and no more. She had a shrewd belief that he was for giving her tangible29 evidence of the hazardous30 schemes that were fermenting31 under the surface of silence, and that she was to learn more of the tempest that was gathering32 in the dark. Being tactful in her generation, she asked him no questions, and kept her conjectures33 to herself.
They broke their ride to pass the night at a wayside hostelry, where the road from Gambrevault skirted the forest. Holding on at their good leisure on the following day, they entered Gilderoy by the northern gate, towards evening, with the cathedral bell booming a challenge to the distant sea. Crossing the great square with its tall mansions of carved oak and chiselled35 stone, they plunged36 into a narrow highway that curled downhill under a hundred overhanging gables. Set back in a murky37 court, a tavern38 hung out its gilded39 sign over the cobbles, a Golden Leopard40, that groaned41 in the wind on its rusty42 hinges. The inn's casements43 glowed red under the gloom of roof and bracket. Fulviac rode into its stone-paved court with its balustraded gallery, its carved stairways, its creaking lamps swaying under the high-peaked gables.
Their horses were taken by a lean groom44, blessed with a most malevolent45 squint46. On the lower step of the gallery stair stood a rotund little man, with a bunch of keys reposing47 on his stomach, the light from a lantern overhead shining on his bald pate48, as on a half sphere of alabaster49. He seemed to sweat beef and beer at every pore. Shuffling50 his feet, he tilted51 his double chin to the sky, as though he were conducting a monologue52 under the stars.
Fulviac set one foot on the stairs.
The rotund soul turned his face suddenly earthwards, as though he had been jerked down by one leg out of heaven.
"Ah, sire, it is you."
"Who else? What of the good folk of Gilderoy?"
"Packed like a crowd of rats in a drain. Will your honour sup?"
The man stood aside with a great sweep of the hand, and a garlic-ladened breath given full in Yeoland's face.
"And the lady, sire, a cup of purple; the roads are dry?"
Fulviac pushed up the stairs.
"We are late, and supped as we came. Your private cellar will suit us better."
"Of a truth, sire, most certainly."
"Send the men back with the horses; Damian has his orders, and your money-bag."
"Rely on my dispatch, sire."
"Well, then, roll on."
Fat Jean, sweaty deity57 of pot and gridiron, took the keys from his girdle and a lantern from a niche58 in the wall. Going at a wheezy shuffle59, he led them by a long passage and two circles of stairs to a cellar packed with hogsheads, tuns, and great vats60 of copper61. From the first cellar a second opened, from the second, a third. In the last vault34 Jean rolled a cask from a corner, turned a flagstone on its side, showed them a narrow stairway descending62 into the dark.
Fulviac took the lantern, made a sign to Jean, and passed down the stairway with Yeoland at his heels. The tavern-keeper remained above in the cellar, and closed the stone when the last gleam of the light had died down the stair. He rolled the cask back into its place, and felt his way back by cellar and stairway to the benignant glow of his own tavern room.
Fulviac and the girl had descended63 the black well of the stair. Tunnels of gloom ran labyrinthine64 on every hand; a musty scent65 burdened the air, and fine sand covered the floor. Fulviac held the lantern shoulder-high, took Yeoland's wrist, and moved forward into a great gallery that sloped downwards66 into the depths of the rock. The place was silent as the death-chamber67 of a pyramid. The lantern fashioned fantastic shadows from the gloom.
Yeoland held close to the man with an instinct towards trust that made her smile at her own thoughts. Fulviac had been in her life little more than a week; yet his unequivocating strength had won largely upon her liking--in no sentimental68 sense indeed, but rather with the calm command of power. Possibly she feared him a very little. Yet with the despair of a wrecked69 mariner70 she clung to him, in spirit, as she would have clung to a rock.
As they passed down the gallery with the lantern swinging in Fulviac's hand, she began to question him with a quiet persistence71.
"What place is this?" she said.
For retort, Fulviac pointed72 her to the wall, and held the lantern to aid her scrutiny73. The girl saw numberless recesses74 excavated75 in the rock; some had been bricked up and bore tablets; others were packed with grinning skulls76. There were scattered77 paintings on the walls, symbolic78 daubs, or scenes from scriptural history. The place was meaningless to the girl, save that the dead seemed ever with them.
Fulviac smiled at her solemn face.
"The catacombs of the city of Gilderoy," he said; "yonder are the niches79 of the dead. These paintings were made by early folk, centuries ago. A veritable maze80 this, a gallery of skulls, a warren for ghosts to squeak81 in."
Yeoland had turned to scan a tablet on the wall.
"We go to some secret gathering?" she asked.
Fulviac laughed; the sound echoed through the passages with reverberating82 scorn.
"The same dark fable83," he said, "telling of vaults84 and secret stairs, passwords and poniards, masks and murder. Remember, little sister, you are to be black and subtle to the heart's chords. This is life, not a romance or an Italian fable. We are men here. There is to be no strutting85 on the stage."
The girl loitered a moment, as though her feet kept pace with her cogitations.
"I am content," she said, "provided I may eschew86 poison, nor need run a bodkin under some wretch's ribs87."
"Be at peace on that score. I have not the heart to make a Rosamund of you."
Sudden out of a dark bye-passage, like a rat out of a hole, a man sprang at them and held a knife at Fulviac's throat. The mock merchant gave the password with great unconcern, putting his cap of sables back from off his face. The sentinel crossed himself, fell on one knee, and gave them passage. Turning a bluff88 buttress89 of stone, they came abruptly90 upon a short gallery that widened into a great circular chamber, pillared after the manner of a church.
A flare91 of torches harassed92 the shadowy vault, and played upon a thousand upturned faces that seemed to surge wave on wave out of the gloom. In the centre of the crypt stood an altar of black marble, and before it on the dais, a priest with a cowl down, a rough wooden crucifix in his hand. A knot of men in armour16 gleamed about the altar, ringing a clear space about the steps. Others, with drawn93 swords, kept the entries of the galleries leading to the cavern94. A great quiet hung over the place, a silence solid as the rock above.
A group of armed men waited for Fulviac at the main entry to the crypt. He merged95 into their ranks, exchanging signs and words in an undertone with one who seemed in authority. The ring of figures pressed through the crowd towards the altar, Fulviac and Yeoland in their midst. Fulviac mounted the steps, and drew the girl up beside him. He uncovered his face to the mob with the gesture of a king uncovering to his people.
"Fulviac, Fulviac!"
The press swayed suddenly like the black waters of a lake, stirred by the rush of flood water through a broken dam. The ring of armed men gave up the shout with a sweeping96 of swords and a clangour of harness. The great cavern took up the cry, reverberating it from its thundering vault. A thousand hands were thrust up, as of the dead rising from the sea.
Yeoland watched the man's face with a mute kindling97 of enthusiasm. As she gazed, it beaconed forth98 a new dignity to her that she had never seen thereon before. A sudden grandeur99 of strength glowed from its weather-beaten features. The mouth and jaw100 seemed of iron; the eyes were full of a stormy fire. It was the face of a man transfigured, throned above himself on the burning pinnacle101 of power. He towered above the mob like some granite102 god, colossal103 in strength, colossal in courage. His manhood flamed out, a watch-fire to the world.
As the cry dwindled104, the priest, who still kept his cowl down over his face, held his crucifix on high, and broke into the strident cadence105 of a rebel ballad106. The people followed as by instinct, knowing the song of old. Many hundred voices gathered strenuously107 into the flood, the massed roar rolling through the great crypt, echoing along the galleries like the sound of some subterranean109 stream. It was a deep chant and a stirring, strong with the strength of the storm wind, fanatic110 as the sea.
The silence that fell at the end thereof was the more solemn in contrast to the thundering stanzas111 of the hymn112. Under the flare of the torches, Fulviac stood forward to turn the task from the crucifix to the sword.
"Men of Gilderoy."
A billow of cheering dashed again to the roof.
"Fulviac, Fulviac!"
The man suffered the cry to die into utter silence, before leaping into a riot of words, a harangue113 that had more justification114 in it than appeal. His voice filled the cavern with its volume and depth. It was more the voice of a captain thundering commands to a squadron of horse than the declamatory craft of the orator115. Fulviac knew the mob, that they were rough and turbulent, and loved a demagogue. Scholastic116 subtleties117 could never fill their stomachs.
"Men of Gilderoy, I come to you with the sword. Bombast118, bombast, come hither all, I'll laden56 ye with devilry, puff119 you up with pride. Ha, who is for being strong, who for being master? Listen to me. Damnation and death, I have the kingdom in the palm of my hand. Liberty, liberty, liberty. We strike for the people. Geraint is ours; Gore120 is ours; all the southern coast waits for the beacons121. Malgo of the Mountain holds the west like a storm cloud under his cloak. The east raves122 against the King. Good. Who is for the stronger side, for Fulviac, liberty, and the people?"
He halted a moment, took breath, quieted all clamour with a sweep of the hand, plunged on again like a great carrack buffeting123 tall billows.
"Are there spies here? By God, let them listen well, and save their skins. Go and tell what ye have heard. Set torch to tinder. Blood and fire, the country would be in arms before the King could stir. No, no, there are no spies in Gilderoy; we are all brothers here. By my sword, sirs, I swear to you, that before harvest tide, we shall sweep the nobles into the sea."
"Liberty, liberty, and the people!"
Sound can intoxicate126 as well as wine. The thunder of war, the bray127 of clarions, can fire even the heart of the coward. The mob swirled128 about the altar of black marble, vociferous129 and eager. Torches rocked to and fro in the cavern; shadows leapt grotesquely130 gigantic over the rough groinings of the roof. Yet Fulviac had further and fiercer fuel for the fire. At a sign from him, the circle of armed men parted; two peasants stumbled forward bearing a cripple in their arms. They carried him up the steps and set him upon the altar before all the people, supporting him as he stared round upon the sea of faces.
He was a shrivelled being, yellow, black of eye, cadaverous. He looked like a man who had wallowed for years among toads131 in a pit, and had become as one of them. His voice was cracked and querulous, as he brandished132 a claw of a hand and screamed at the crowd.
"Look at me, mates and brothers. Five years ago I was a tall man and lusty. I forbade the Lord of Margradel my wife. They racked and branded me, tossed me into a stinking133 pit. I am young, young. I shall never walk again."
A woman rushed from the crowd, grey-haired, fat, and bloated. She climbed the altar steps, and stretched out her hands in a kind of frenzy134 towards the people.
"Look at me, men of Gilderoy. Last spring I had a daughter, a clean wench as ever danced. Seek her from John of Brissac and his devils. Ha, good words these for a mother. Men of Gilderoy, remember your children."
Fulviac's pageant135 gathered grimly before the mob. A blind man tottered136 up and pointed to his sightless eyes. A girl held up an infant, and told shrilly137 of its father's murder. One fellow displayed a tongueless mouth; another, a face distorted by the iron; a third had lost nose and ears; a fourth showed arms shrivelled and contracted by fire. It was a sinister138 appeal, strong yet piteous. The tyranny of the age showed in the bodies of these wronged and mutilated beings. They had been mere139 carrion140 tossed under the iron heel of power. The granite car of ruthless opulence141 and passion had crushed them under its reddened wheels.
At a gesture from Fulviac, the priest upon the steps threw back his cowl and stood forward in the torchlight. His face was the face of a zealot, fanatical, sanguine142, lined with an energy that was prophetic of power. His eyes smouldered under their straight black brows. His hands, white and bony, quivered as he stretched them out towards the people.
They knew him on the instant; their clamour told as much. Often had the shadow of that thin figure fallen athwart the parched143 highways of stricken cities. Often had those hands tended death, those lips smitten144 awe145 into the souls of the drunkard and the harlot.
"Prosper, Prosper the Preacher!"
There rang a rude, rough joy in the clamour that was spontaneous and eloquent146. It was the heart's cry of the people, wild, trusting, and passionate147. Men and women broke through the circle of armed men, cast themselves upon the altar steps, kissed the friar's gown, and fawned148 on him. He put them back with a certain awkward dignity, and a hot colour upon his almost boyish face. The man had a fine humility149, though the strenuous108 ideals of his soul ran in fire to the zenith.
"God's peace to you, people of Gilderoy!"
The clamour revived.
"Preach to us, preach to us!" came the cry.
The friar stretched forth his hands; his voice rang strong and strident over the packed upturned faces.
"Children, what need have we of words! To-night have we not seen enough to scourge152 the manhood in us, to bear forth the Holy Cross of war? The evil beast is with us even yet; Mammon the Mighty153 treads you under foot. Ye saints, what cause more righteous since the martyrs154 fell? Look on these scars, these wrongs, these agonies. Preach! I am dumb beside such witnesses as these."
The crypt thundered to him when he lowered his hands. It was the cry of men bankrupt of liberty, thirsty for revenge. Fulviac grappled the climax155, and stood forward with uplifted sword. His lion's roar sounded above the din12.
"Go, people of Gilderoy," he cried, "go--but remember. When castles burn, and bolts scream, when spears splinter, and armies crash to the charge, remember your children and your wrongs. Strike home for God, and for your liberty."
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1
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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5
turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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blazoned
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| v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布；夸示；装饰 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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guilds
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| 行会，同业公会，协会( guild的名词复数 ) | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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sables
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| n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 )；紫貂皮；阴暗的；暗夜 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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saturnine
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| adj.忧郁的，沉默寡言的，阴沉的，感染铅毒的 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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fermenting
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| v.（使）发酵( ferment的现在分词 )；（使）激动；骚动；骚扰 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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chiselled
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| adj.凿过的，凿光的； （文章等）精心雕琢的v.凿，雕，镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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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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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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45
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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46
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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pate
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| n.头顶；光顶 | |
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alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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50
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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51
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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monologue
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| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
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53
brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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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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niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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vats
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| varieties 变化，多样性，种类 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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62
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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63
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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64
labyrinthine
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| adj.如迷宫的；复杂的 | |
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65
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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66
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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67
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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68
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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69
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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70
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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71
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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72
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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73
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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74
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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75
excavated
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| v.挖掘( excavate的过去式和过去分词 )；开凿；挖出；发掘 | |
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76
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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77
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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78
symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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79
niches
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| 壁龛( niche的名词复数 )； 合适的位置[工作等]； （产品的）商机； 生态位（一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位） | |
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80
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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81
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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82
reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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83
fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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84
vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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85
strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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86
eschew
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| v.避开，戒绝 | |
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87
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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88
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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89
buttress
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| n.支撑物；v.支持 | |
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90
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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91
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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92
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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93
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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94
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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95
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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96
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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97
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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98
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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99
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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100
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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101
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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102
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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103
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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104
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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105
cadence
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| n.（说话声调的）抑扬顿挫 | |
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106
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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107
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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108
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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109
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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110
fanatic
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| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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111
stanzas
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| 节，段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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112
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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113
harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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114
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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115
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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116
scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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117
subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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118
bombast
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| n.高调，夸大之辞 | |
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119
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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120
gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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121
beacons
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| 灯塔( beacon的名词复数 )； 烽火； 指路明灯； 无线电台或发射台 | |
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122
raves
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| n.狂欢晚会( rave的名词复数 )v.胡言乱语( rave的第三人称单数 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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123
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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124
eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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126
intoxicate
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| vt.使喝醉，使陶醉，使欣喜若狂 | |
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127
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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128
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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130
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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131
toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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132
brandished
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| v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 )；炫耀 | |
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133
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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134
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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135
pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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136
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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137
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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138
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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139
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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140
carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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141
opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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142
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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143
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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144
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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145
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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146
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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147
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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148
fawned
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| v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的过去式和过去分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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149
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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150
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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151
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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152
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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153
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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154
martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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155
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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