A migratory5 friar, Fra Balthasar had come from the rich skies, the purple vineyards, the glimmering6 orange groves7 of the far south. Gossip hinted that a certain romantic indiscretion had driven him northwards over the sea. A "bend sinister8" ran athwart his reputation as a priest. Men muttered that he was an infidel, a blasphemous9 vagabond, versed10 in all the damnable heresies11 of antiquity12. Be that as it may, Fra Balthasar had come to Gilderoy on a white mule13, with two servants at his back, an apt tongue to serve him, and much craft as a painter and goldsmith. He had set up a bottega at Gilderoy, and had cozened the patronage14 of the magnates and the merchants. Moreover, he had netted the favour of the Lord Flavian of Avalon, and was blazoning15 his chapel for him with the lavish16 fancy of a Florentine.
Fra Balthasar stood in a cataract17 of sunlight, that poured in through a painted window in the west. He wore the white habit of Dominic and the long black mantle18. A golden mist played about his figure as he rubbed his palette, and scanned with the egotism of the artist the Pietà painted above the Lord Flavian's state stall. That gentleman, in the flesh, had established himself on a velvet19 hassock before the altar steps, thus flattering the friar in the part of a sympathetic patron. The Lord of Avalon had dedicated20 his own person to art as an Eastern King in the splendour of Gothic arms, kneeling bare-headed before the infant Christ.
Fra Balthasar was a plump man and a comely21, black of eye and full of lip. His shaven chin shone blue as sleek22 velvet. He had turned from the Pietà towards the altar, where a triptych gleamed with massed and brilliant colour. The Virgin23, a palpitating divinity breathing stars and gems24 from her full bosom25, gazed with a face of sensuous26 serenity27 at the infant lying in her lap. She seemed to exhale28 an atmosphere of gold. On either wing, angels, transcendant girls in green and silver, purple and azure29, scarlet30 and white, made the soul swim with visions of ruddy lips and milk-white hands. Their wings gleamed like opals. They looked too frail31 for angels, too human for heaven.
The Lord of Avalon sat on his scarlet hassock, and stared at the Madonna with some measure of awe32. She was no attenuated33, angular, green-faced fragment of saintliness, but by every curve a woman, from plump finger to coral lip.
"You are no Byzantine," quoth the man on the hassock, with something of a sigh.
The priest glanced at him and smiled. There were curves in lip and nostril34 that were more than indicative of a sleek and sensuous worldliness. Fra Balthasar was much of an Antinous, and doted on the conviction.
"I paint women, messire," he said.
His lordship laughed.
"Divinities?"
Balthasar flourished his brush.
"Divine creatures, golden flowers of the world. Give me the rose to crush against my mouth, violets to burn upon my bosom. Truth, sire, consider the sparkling roundness of a woman's arm. Consider her wine-red lips, her sinful eyes, her lily fingers dropping spikenard into the soul. I confess, sire, that I am a man."
The friar's opulent extravagance of sentiment suited the litheness35 of his look. Balthasar had enthroned himself in his own imagination as a species of Apollo, a golden-tongued seer, whose soul soared into the glittering infinitudes of art. An immense egotist, he posed as a full-blooded divinity, palpitating to colour and to sound. He had as many moods as a vain woman, and was a mere36 fire-fly in the matter of honour.
"Reverend sire," quoth the man on the footstool with some tightening37 of the upper lip, "you bulk too big for your frock, methinks."
Balthasar touched a panel with his brush; cast a glance over his shoulder, with a cynical38 lifting of the nostril.
"My frock serves me, sire, as well as a coat of mail."
"And you believe the things you paint?"
"I am ever ingenuous."
"Yet you have not answered me."
"Religion is full of picturesque43 incidents," he said.
"And is profitable."
"Sire, you shame Solomon. There are ever many rich and devout44 fools in the world. Give me a gleaming Venus, rising ruddy from the sea, rather than a lachrymose45 Magdalene. But what would you? I trim my Venus up in fine apparel, put a puling infant in her lap. Ecce--Sancta Maria."
The man on the footstool smiled despite the jester's theme, a smile that had more scorn in it than sympathy.
"There can be no blasphemy where there is no belief."
"You are over subtle, my friend."
"Nay48, sire, I have come by that godliness of mind when man discovers his own godhead. Let your soul soar, I say, let it beat its wings into the blue of life. Hence with superstition49. Shall I subordinate my mind to the prosings of a mad charlatan50 such as Saul of Tarsus? Shall I, like each rat in this mortal drain, believe that some god cares when I have gout in my toe, or when I am tempted51 to bow to Venus?"
The man on the hassock grimaced52, and eyed the friar much as though he had stumbled on some being from the underworld. He was a mystic for all his manhood.
"Enough."
"This man god of yours who tosses the stars like so many lemons."
"Enough, sir friar."
"Defend me from your mass of metaphor55, your relics56 of barbarism. We, the wise ones, have our own hierarchy57, our own Olympus."
"On my soul, you are welcome to it," quoth the man by the altar.
Balthasar's hand worked viciously; he was strenuous58 towards his own beliefs, after the fashion of dreamers delirious59 with egotism. The very splendour of his infidelity took its birth from the fact that it was largely of his own creating. His pert iconoclasm pandered61 to his own vast self-esteem.
"Tell me for what you live," said the man by the altar.
"For beauty."
"And the senses?"
"Colours, odours, sounds. To breathe, to burn, and to enjoy. To be a Greek and a god."
"And life?"
The Lord of Avalon sprang up and began to pace the aisle63 with the air of a man whose blood is fevered. For all his devoutness64 and his mystical fidelity60, he was in too human and passionate65 a mood to be invulnerable to Balthasar's sensuous shafts66 of fire. The Lord Flavian had come by a transcendental star-soaring spirit, an inspiration that had torched the wild beacon67 of romance. He was red for a riot of chivalry68, a passage of desire.
Turning back towards the altar, he faced the Madonna with her choir69 of angel girls. Fra Balthasar was watching him with a feline70 sleekness71 of visage, and a smile that boasted something of contempt. The friar considered spirituality a species of magician's lanthorn for the cozening of fools.
"What quip have you for love?" said the younger man, halting by the altar rails.
"You are experienced?"
"Sire, consider my 'habit.'"
The friar's mock horror was surprising, an excellent jest that fell like a blunted bolt from the steel of a vigorous manhood. The Lord Flavian ran on.
"Shall I fence with an infidel?" he asked.
"Sire, a man may be a man without the creed of Athanasius."
"How much of me do you understand?"
Fra Balthasar cleared his throat.
"The Lady Duessa, sire, is a rose of joy."
"My lord, it was your dictum that you are ever ingenuous. I echo you."
"Need I confess to you on such a subject?"
"Nay, sire, you have the inconsistency of a poet."
"How so?"
The younger man jerked away, and went striding betwixt the array of frescoes with something of the wild vigour76 of a blind Polyphemus. Balthasar, subtle sophist, watched him from the angle of his eye with the sardonic77 superiority of one well versed in the contradictions of the world. He had scribbled78 a shrewd sketch79 of the passions stirring in his patron's heart. Had he not heard from the man's own lips of the white-faced elf of the pine woods and her vengeance80? And the Lady Duessa! Fra Balthasar was as wise in the gossip of Gilderoy as any woman.
"Sire," he said, as the aristocrat81 turned in his stride, "I ask of you a bold favour."
"Speak out."
"Suffer me to paint your mood in words."
"Try your craft," he said.
"My lord, you were a fool at twenty," were his words.
"A thrice damned fool," came the echo.
"And now, messire, a golden chain makes a Tantalus of you. Life crawls like a sluggish86 river. You chafe87, you strain, you rebel, feed on your own heart, sin to assert your liberty. Youth slips from you; the sky narrows about your ears. Well, well, have I not read aright?"
"Speak on," quoth the man by the altar.
"Ah, sire, it is the old tale. They have cramped88 up your youth with book and ring; shut you up in a moral sarcophagus with a woman they call your wife. You burn for liberty, and the unknown that shines like a purple streak in a fading west. Ah, sire, you look for that one marvellous being, who shall torch again the youth in your heart, make your blood burn, your soul to sing. That one woman in the world, mysterious as the moon, subtle as the night, ineffably89 strange as a flaming dawn. That woman who shall lift you to the stars; whose lips suck the sap of the world; whose bosom breathes to the eternal swoon of all sweet sounds. She shall light the lust90 of battle in your heart. For her your sword shall leap, your towers totter91. Chivalry should lead you like a pillar of fire out of the night, a heroic god striving for a goddess."
The Lord of Avalon stood before the high altar as one transfigured. Youth leapt in him, red, glorious, and triumphant92. Balthasar's tongue had set the pyre aburning.
"By God, it is the truth," he said.
The friar gathered his brushes, and took breath.
"Hast thou found thy Beatrice, O my son?"
"Have I gazed into heaven?"
Balthasar's voice filled the chapel.
"Live, sire, live!" he said.
"Ah!"
"Be mad! Drink star wine, and snuff the odours of all the sunsets! Live, live! You can repent93 in comfort when you are sixty and measure fifty inches round the waist."
点击收听单词发音
1 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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2 complacently | |
adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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3 fresco | |
n.壁画;vt.作壁画于 | |
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4 frescoes | |
n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 );温壁画技法,湿壁画 | |
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5 migratory | |
n.候鸟,迁移 | |
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6 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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7 groves | |
树丛,小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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8 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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9 blasphemous | |
adj.亵渎神明的,不敬神的 | |
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10 versed | |
adj. 精通,熟练 | |
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11 heresies | |
n.异端邪说,异教( heresy的名词复数 ) | |
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12 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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13 mule | |
n.骡子,杂种,执拗的人 | |
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14 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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15 blazoning | |
v.广布( blazon的现在分词 );宣布;夸示;装饰 | |
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16 lavish | |
adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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17 cataract | |
n.大瀑布,奔流,洪水,白内障 | |
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18 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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19 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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20 dedicated | |
adj.一心一意的;献身的;热诚的 | |
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21 comely | |
adj.漂亮的,合宜的 | |
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22 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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23 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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24 gems | |
growth; economy; management; and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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25 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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26 sensuous | |
adj.激发美感的;感官的,感觉上的 | |
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27 serenity | |
n.宁静,沉着,晴朗 | |
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28 exhale | |
v.呼气,散出,吐出,蒸发 | |
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29 azure | |
adj.天蓝色的,蔚蓝色的 | |
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30 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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31 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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32 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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33 attenuated | |
v.(使)变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)变薄;(使)变小;减弱 | |
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34 nostril | |
n.鼻孔 | |
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35 litheness | |
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36 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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37 tightening | |
上紧,固定,紧密 | |
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38 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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39 streak | |
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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40 ingenuous | |
adj.纯朴的,单纯的;天真的;坦率的 | |
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41 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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42 tilted | |
v. 倾斜的 | |
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43 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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44 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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45 lachrymose | |
adj.好流泪的,引人落泪的;adv.眼泪地,哭泣地 | |
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46 verge | |
n.边,边缘;v.接近,濒临 | |
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47 blasphemy | |
n.亵渎,渎神 | |
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48 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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49 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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50 charlatan | |
n.骗子;江湖医生;假内行 | |
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51 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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52 grimaced | |
v.扮鬼相,做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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54 inflated | |
adj.(价格)飞涨的;(通货)膨胀的;言过其实的;充了气的v.使充气(于轮胎、气球等)( inflate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)膨胀;(使)通货膨胀;物价上涨 | |
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55 metaphor | |
n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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56 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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57 hierarchy | |
n.等级制度;统治集团,领导层 | |
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58 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
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59 delirious | |
adj.不省人事的,神智昏迷的 | |
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60 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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61 pandered | |
v.迎合(他人的低级趣味或淫欲)( pander的过去式和过去分词 );纵容某人;迁就某事物 | |
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62 pageant | |
n.壮观的游行;露天历史剧 | |
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63 aisle | |
n.(教堂、教室、戏院等里的)过道,通道 | |
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64 devoutness | |
朝拜 | |
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65 passionate | |
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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66 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
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67 beacon | |
n.烽火,(警告用的)闪火灯,灯塔 | |
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68 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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69 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
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70 feline | |
adj.猫科的 | |
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71 sleekness | |
油滑; 油光发亮; 时髦阔气; 线条明快 | |
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72 poised | |
a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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73 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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74 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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75 sniff | |
vi.嗅…味道;抽鼻涕;对嗤之以鼻,蔑视 | |
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76 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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77 sardonic | |
adj.嘲笑的,冷笑的,讥讽的 | |
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78 scribbled | |
v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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79 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
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80 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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81 aristocrat | |
n.贵族,有贵族气派的人,上层人物 | |
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82 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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83 irritable | |
adj.急躁的;过敏的;易怒的 | |
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84 bravado | |
n.虚张声势,故作勇敢,逞能 | |
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85 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86 sluggish | |
adj.懒惰的,迟钝的,无精打采的 | |
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87 chafe | |
v.擦伤;冲洗;惹怒 | |
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88 cramped | |
a.狭窄的 | |
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89 ineffably | |
adv.难以言喻地,因神圣而不容称呼地 | |
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90 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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91 totter | |
v.蹒跚, 摇摇欲坠;n.蹒跚的步子 | |
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92 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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93 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
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