She interrupted herself, and something like doubt dimmed for a moment the fire of suppressed exaltation that had glowed in her eyes and had illuminated3 the serene4 impassiveness of her features with a ray of eager life during all that long day of excitement—the day of joy and anxiety, of hope and terror, of vague grief and indistinct delight. While the sun shone with that dazzling light in which her love was born and grew till it possessed5 her whole being, she was kept firm in her unwavering resolve by the mysterious whisperings of desire which filled her heart with impatient longing6 for the darkness that would mean the end of danger and strife7, the beginning of happiness, the fulfilling of love, the completeness of life. It had set at last! The short tropical twilight8 went out before she could draw the long breath of relief; and now the sudden darkness seemed to be full of menacing voices calling upon her to rush headlong into the unknown; to be true to her own impulses, to give herself up to the passion she had evoked9 and shared. He was waiting! In the solitude10 of the secluded11 clearing, in the vast silence of the forest he was waiting alone, a fugitive12 in fear of his life. Indifferent to his danger he was waiting for her. It was for her only that he had come; and now as the time approached when he should have his reward, she asked herself with dismay what meant that chilling doubt of her own will and of her own desire? With an effort she shook off the fear of the passing weakness. He should have his reward. Her woman’s love and her woman’s honour overcame the faltering14 distrust of that unknown future waiting for her in the darkness of the river.
“No, you will not return,” muttered Mrs. Almayer, prophetically.
“Without you he will not go, and if he remains15 here—” She waved her hand towards the lights of “Almayer’s Folly,” and the unfinished sentence died out in a threatening murmur16.
The two women had met behind the house, and now were walking slowly together towards the creek where all the canoes were moored17. Arrived at the fringe of bushes they stopped by a common impulse, and Mrs. Almayer, laying her hand on her daughter’s arm, tried in vain to look close into the girl’s averted18 face. When she attempted to speak her first words were lost in a stifled20 sob21 that sounded strangely coming from that woman who, of all human passions, seemed to know only those of anger and hate.
“You are going away to be a great Ranee,” she said at last, in a voice that was steady enough now, “and if you be wise you shall have much power that will endure many days, and even last into your old age. What have I been? A slave all my life, and I have cooked rice for a man who had no courage and no wisdom. Hai! I! even I, was given in gift by a chief and a warrior22 to a man that was neither. Hai! Hai!”
She wailed23 to herself softly, lamenting24 the lost possibilities of murder and mischief25 that could have fallen to her lot had she been mated with a congenial spirit. Nina bent26 down over Mrs. Almayer’s slight form and scanned attentively27, under the stars that had rushed out on the black sky and now hung breathless over that strange parting, her mother’s shrivelled features, and looked close into the sunken eyes that could see into her own dark future by the light of a long and a painful experience. Again she felt herself fascinated, as of old, by her mother’s exalted28 mood and by the oracular certainty of expression which, together with her fits of violence, had contributed not a little to the reputation for witchcraft29 she enjoyed in the settlement.
* * * * *
“I was a slave, and you shall be a queen,” went on Mrs. Almayer, looking straight before her; “but remember men’s strength and their weakness. Tremble before his anger, so that he may see your fear in the light of day; but in your heart you may laugh, for after sunset he is your slave.”
“A slave! He! The master of life! You do not know him, mother.”
Mrs. Almayer condescended30 to laugh contemptuously.
“You speak like a fool of a white woman,” she exclaimed. “What do you know of men’s anger and of men’s love? Have you watched the sleep of men weary of dealing32 death? Have you felt about you the strong arm that could drive a kriss deep into a beating heart? Yah! you are a white woman, and ought to pray to a woman-god!”
“Why do you say this? I have listened to your words so long that I have forgotten my old life. If I was white would I stand here, ready to go? Mother, I shall return to the house and look once more at my father’s face.”
“No!” said Mrs. Almayer, violently. “No, he sleeps now the sleep of gin; and if you went back he might awake and see you. No, he shall never see you. When the terrible old man took you away from me when you were little, you remember—”
“It was such a long time ago,” murmured Nina.
“I remember,” went on Mrs. Almayer, fiercely. “I wanted to look at your face again. He said no! I heard you cry and jumped into the river. You were his daughter then; you are my daughter now. Never shall you go back to that house; you shall never cross this courtyard again. No! no!”
Her voice rose almost to a shout. On the other side of the creek there was a rustle33 in the long grass. The two women heard it, and listened for a while in startled silence. “I shall go,” said Nina, in a cautious but intense whisper. “What is your hate or your revenge to me?”
She moved towards the house, Mrs. Almayer clinging to her and trying to pull her back.
Nina pushed away her mother impatiently and gathered up her skirts for a quick run, but Mrs. Almayer ran forward and turned round, facing her daughter with outstretched arms.
“If you move another step,” she exclaimed, breathing quickly, “I shall cry out. Do you see those lights in the big house? There sit two white men, angry because they cannot have the blood of the man you love. And in those dark houses,” she continued, more calmly as she pointed35 towards the settlement, “my voice could wake up men that would lead the Orang Blanda soldiers to him who is waiting—for you.”
She could not see her daughter’s face, but the white figure before her stood silent and irresolute36 in the darkness. Mrs. Almayer pursued her advantage.
“Give up your old life! Forget!” she said in entreating37 tones. “Forget that you ever looked at a white face; forget their words; forget their thoughts. They speak lies. And they think lies because they despise us that are better than they are, but not so strong. Forget their friendship and their contempt; forget their many gods. Girl, why do you want to remember the past when there is a warrior and a chief ready to give many lives—his own life—for one of your smiles?”
While she spoke38 she pushed gently her daughter towards the canoes, hiding her own fear, anxiety, and doubt under the flood of passionate39 words that left Nina no time to think and no opportunity to protest, even if she had wished it. But she did not wish it now. At the bottom of that passing desire to look again at her father’s face there was no strong affection. She felt no scruples40 and no remorse41 at leaving suddenly that man whose sentiment towards herself she could not understand, she could not even see. There was only an instinctive42 clinging to old life, to old habits, to old faces; that fear of finality which lurks43 in every human breast and prevents so many heroisms and so many crimes. For years she had stood between her mother and her father, the one so strong in her weakness, the other so weak where he could have been strong. Between those two beings so dissimilar, so antagonistic44, she stood with mute heart wondering and angry at the fact of her own existence. It seemed so unreasonable45, so humiliating to be flung there in that settlement and to see the days rush by into the past, without a hope, a desire, or an aim that would justify46 the life she had to endure in ever-growing weariness. She had little belief and no sympathy for her father’s dreams; but the savage47 ravings of her mother chanced to strike a responsive chord, deep down somewhere in her despairing heart; and she dreamed dreams of her own with the persistent48 absorption of a captive thinking of liberty within the walls of his prison cell. With the coming of Dain she found the road to freedom by obeying the voice of the new-born impulses, and with surprised joy she thought she could read in his eyes the answer to all the questionings of her heart. She understood now the reason and the aim of life; and in the triumphant49 unveiling of that mystery she threw away disdainfully her past with its sad thoughts, its bitter feelings, and its faint affections, now withered50 and dead in contact with her fierce passion.
Mrs. Almayer unmoored Nina’s own canoe and, straightening herself painfully, stood, painter in hand, looking at her daughter.
“Quick,” she said; “get away before the moon rises, while the river is dark. I am afraid of Abdulla’s slaves. The wretches51 prowl in the night often, and might see and follow you. There are two paddles in the canoe.”
Nina approached her mother and hesitatingly touched lightly with her lips the wrinkled forehead. Mrs. Almayer snorted contemptuously in protest against that tenderness which she, nevertheless, feared could be contagious52.
“Shall I ever see you again, mother?” murmured Nina.
“No,” said Mrs. Almayer, after a short silence. “Why should you return here where it is my fate to die? You will live far away in splendour and might. When I hear of white men driven from the islands, then I shall know that you are alive, and that you remember my words.”
“I shall always remember,” returned Nina, earnestly; “but where is my power, and what can I do?”
“Do not let him look too long in your eyes, nor lay his head on your knees without reminding him that men should fight before they rest. And if he lingers, give him his kriss yourself and bid him go, as the wife of a mighty53 prince should do when the enemies are near. Let him slay54 the white men that come to us to trade, with prayers on their lips and loaded guns in their hands. Ah!”—she ended with a sigh—“they are on every sea, and on every shore; and they are very many!”
She swung the bow of the canoe towards the river, but did not let go the gunwale, keeping her hand on it in irresolute thoughtfulness.
Nina put the point of the paddle against the bank, ready to shove off into the stream.
“What is it, mother?” she asked, in a low voice. “Do you hear anything?”
“No,” said Mrs. Almayer, absently. “Listen, Nina,” she continued, abruptly55, after a slight pause, “in after years there will be other women—”
A stifled cry in the boat interrupted her, and the paddle rattled56 in the canoe as it slipped from Nina’s hands, which she put out in a protesting gesture. Mrs. Almayer fell on her knees on the bank and leaned over the gunwale so as to bring her own face close to her daughter’s.
“There will be other women,” she repeated firmly; “I tell you that, because you are half white, and may forget that he is a great chief, and that such things must be. Hide your anger, and do not let him see on your face the pain that will eat your heart. Meet him with joy in your eyes and wisdom on your lips, for to you he will turn in sadness or in doubt. As long as he looks upon many women your power will last, but should there be one, one only with whom he seems to forget you, then—”
“I could not live,” exclaimed Nina, covering her face with both her hands. “Do not speak so, mother; it could not be.”
She moved the canoe down towards the stream by the gunwale, and gripped it with both her hands, the bow pointing into the river.
“Are you crying?” she asked sternly of her daughter, who sat still with covered face. “Arise, and take your paddle, for he has waited long enough. And remember, Nina, no mercy; and if you must strike, strike with a steady hand.”
She put out all her strength, and swinging her body over the water, shot the light craft far into the stream. When she recovered herself from the effort she tried vainly to catch a glimpse of the canoe that seemed to have dissolved suddenly into the white mist trailing over the heated waters of the Pantai. After listening for a while intently on her knees, Mrs. Almayer rose with a deep sigh, while two tears wandered slowly down her withered cheeks. She wiped them off quickly with a wisp of her grey hair as if ashamed of herself, but could not stifle19 another loud sigh, for her heart was heavy and she suffered much, being unused to tender emotions. This time she fancied she had heard a faint noise, like the echo of her own sigh, and she stopped, straining her ears to catch the slightest sound, and peering apprehensively58 towards the bushes near her.
“Who is there?” she asked, in an unsteady voice, while her imagination peopled the solitude of the riverside with ghost-like forms. “Who is there?” she repeated faintly.
There was no answer: only the voice of the river murmuring in sad monotone behind the white veil seemed to swell59 louder for a moment, to die away again in a soft whisper of eddies60 washing against the bank.
Mrs. Almayer shook her head as if in answer to her own thoughts, and walked quickly away from the bushes, looking to the right and left watchfully61. She went straight towards the cooking-shed, observing that the embers of the fire there glowed more brightly than usual, as if somebody had been adding fresh fuel to the fires during the evening. As she approached, Babalatchi, who had been squatting62 in the warm glow, rose and met her in the shadow outside.
“Is she gone?” asked the anxious statesman, hastily.
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Almayer. “What are the white men doing? When did you leave them?”
“They are sleeping now, I think. May they never wake!” exclaimed Babalatchi, fervently63. “Oh! but they are devils, and made much talk and trouble over that carcase. The chief threatened me twice with his hand, and said he would have me tied up to a tree. Tie me up to a tree! Me!” he repeated, striking his breast violently.
Mrs. Almayer laughed tauntingly64.
“And you salaamed65 and asked for mercy. Men with arms by their side acted otherwise when I was young.”
“And where are they, the men of your youth? You mad woman!” retorted Babalatchi, angrily. “Killed by the Dutch. Aha! But I shall live to deceive them. A man knows when to fight and when to tell peaceful lies. You would know that if you were not a woman.”
But Mrs. Almayer did not seem to hear him. With bent body and outstretched arm she appeared to be listening to some noise behind the shed.
“There are strange sounds,” she whispered, with evident alarm. “I have heard in the air the sounds of grief, as of a sigh and weeping. That was by the riverside. And now again I heard—”
“Where?” asked Babalatchi, in an altered voice. “What did you hear?”
“Close here. It was like a breath long drawn66. I wish I had burnt the paper over the body before it was buried.”
“Yes,” assented67 Babalatchi. “But the white men had him thrown into a hole at once. You know he found his death on the river,” he added cheerfully, “and his ghost may hail the canoes, but would leave the land alone.”
Mrs. Almayer, who had been craning her neck to look round the corner of the shed, drew back her head.
“There is nobody there,” she said, reassured68. “Is it not time for the Rajah war-canoe to go to the clearing?”
“I have been waiting for it here, for I myself must go,” explained Babalatchi. “I think I will go over and see what makes them late. When will you come? The Rajah gives you refuge.”
“I shall paddle over before the break of day. I cannot leave my dollars behind,” muttered Mrs. Almayer.
They separated. Babalatchi crossed the courtyard towards the creek to get his canoe, and Mrs. Almayer walked slowly to the house, ascended69 the plankway, and passing through the back verandah entered the passage leading to the front of the house; but before going in she turned in the doorway70 and looked back at the empty and silent courtyard, now lit up by the rays of the rising moon. No sooner she had disappeared, however, than a vague shape flitted out from amongst the stalks of the banana plantation71, darted72 over the moonlit space, and fell in the darkness at the foot of the verandah. It might have been the shadow of a driving cloud, so noiseless and rapid was its passage, but for the trail of disturbed grass, whose feathery heads trembled and swayed for a long time in the moonlight before they rested motionless and gleaming, like a design of silver sprays embroidered73 on a sombre background.
Mrs. Almayer lighted the cocoanut lamp, and lifting cautiously the red curtain, gazed upon her husband, shading the light with her hand.
Almayer, huddled74 up in the chair, one of his arms hanging down, the other thrown across the lower part of his face as if to ward1 off an invisible enemy, his legs stretched straight out, slept heavily, unconscious of the unfriendly eyes that looked upon him in disparaging75 criticism. At his feet lay the overturned table, amongst a wreck76 of crockery and broken bottles. The appearance as of traces left by a desperate struggle was accentuated77 by the chairs, which seemed to have been scattered78 violently all over the place, and now lay about the verandah with a lamentable79 aspect of inebriety80 in their helpless attitudes. Only Nina’s big rocking-chair, standing81 black and motionless on its high runners, towered above the chaos82 of demoralised furniture, unflinchingly dignified83 and patient, waiting for its burden.
With a last scornful look towards the sleeper84, Mrs. Almayer passed behind the curtain into her own room. A couple of bats, encouraged by the darkness and the peaceful state of affairs, resumed their silent and oblique85 gambols86 above Almayer’s head, and for a long time the profound quiet of the house was unbroken, save for the deep breathing of the sleeping man and the faint tinkle87 of silver in the hands of the woman preparing for flight. In the increasing light of the moon that had risen now above the night mist, the objects on the verandah came out strongly outlined in black splashes of shadow with all the uncompromising ugliness of their disorder88, and a caricature of the sleeping Almayer appeared on the dirty whitewash89 of the wall behind him in a grotesquely90 exaggerated detail of attitude and feature enlarged to a heroic size. The discontented bats departed in quest of darker places, and a lizard91 came out in short, nervous rushes, and, pleased with the white table-cloth, stopped on it in breathless immobility that would have suggested sudden death had it not been for the melodious92 call he exchanged with a less adventurous93 friend hiding amongst the lumber94 in the courtyard. Then the boards in the passage creaked, the lizard vanished, and Almayer stirred uneasily with a sigh: slowly, out of the senseless annihilation of drunken sleep, he was returning, through the land of dreams, to waking consciousness. Almayer’s head rolled from shoulder to shoulder in the oppression of his dream; the heavens had descended31 upon him like a heavy mantle95, and trailed in starred folds far under him. Stars above, stars all round him; and from the stars under his feet rose a whisper full of entreaties96 and tears, and sorrowful faces flitted amongst the clusters of light filling the infinite space below. How escape from the importunity97 of lamentable cries and from the look of staring, sad eyes in the faces which pressed round him till he gasped for breath under the crushing weight of worlds that hung over his aching shoulders? Get away! But how? If he attempted to move he would step off into nothing, and perish in the crashing fall of that universe of which he was the only support. And what were the voices saying? Urging him to move! Why? Move to destruction! Not likely! The absurdity98 of the thing filled him with indignation. He got a firmer foothold and stiffened99 his muscles in heroic resolve to carry his burden to all eternity100. And ages passed in the superhuman labour, amidst the rush of circling worlds; in the plaintive101 murmur of sorrowful voices urging him to desist before it was too late—till the mysterious power that had laid upon him the giant task seemed at last to seek his destruction. With terror he felt an irresistible102 hand shaking him by the shoulder, while the chorus of voices swelled103 louder into an agonised prayer to go, go before it is too late. He felt himself slipping, losing his balance, as something dragged at his legs, and he fell. With a faint cry he glided104 out of the anguish105 of perishing creation into an imperfect waking that seemed to be still under the spell of his dream.
“What? What?” he murmured sleepily, without moving or opening his eyes. His head still felt heavy, and he had not the courage to raise his eyelids106. In his ears there still lingered the sound of entreating whisper.—“Am I awake?—Why do I hear the voices?” he argued to himself, hazily107.—“I cannot get rid of the horrible nightmare yet.—I have been very drunk.—What is that shaking me? I am dreaming yet—I must open my eyes and be done with it. I am only half awake, it is evident.”
He made an effort to shake off his stupor108 and saw a face close to his, glaring at him with staring eyeballs. He closed his eyes again in amazed horror and sat up straight in the chair, trembling in every limb. What was this apparition109?—His own fancy, no doubt.—His nerves had been much tried the day before—and then the drink! He would not see it again if he had the courage to look.—He would look directly.—Get a little steadier first.—So.—Now.
He looked. The figure of a woman standing in the steely light, her hands stretched forth110 in a suppliant111 gesture, confronted him from the far-off end of the verandah; and in the space between him and the obstinate112 phantom113 floated the murmur of words that fell on his ears in a jumble114 of torturing sentences, the meaning of which escaped the utmost efforts of his brain. Who spoke the Malay words? Who ran away? Why too late—and too late for what? What meant those words of hate and love mixed so strangely together, the ever-recurring names falling on his ears again and again—Nina, Dain; Dain, Nina? Dain was dead, and Nina was sleeping, unaware115 of the terrible experience through which he was now passing. Was he going to be tormented117 for ever, sleeping or waking, and have no peace either night or day? What was the meaning of this?
He shouted the last words aloud. The shadowy woman seemed to shrink and recede118 a little from him towards the doorway, and there was a shriek119. Exasperated120 by the incomprehensible nature of his torment116, Almayer made a rush upon the apparition, which eluded121 his grasp, and he brought up heavily against the wall. Quick as lightning he turned round and pursued fiercely the mysterious figure fleeing from him with piercing shrieks122 that were like fuel to the flames of his anger. Over the furniture, round the overturned table, and now he had it cornered behind Nina’s chair. To the left, to the right they dodged123, the chair rocking madly between them, she sending out shriek after shriek at every feint, and he growling124 meaningless curses through his hard set teeth. “Oh! the fiendish noise that split his head and seemed to choke his breath.—It would kill him.—It must be stopped!” An insane desire to crush that yelling thing induced him to cast himself recklessly over the chair with a desperate grab, and they came down together in a cloud of dust amongst the splintered wood. The last shriek died out under him in a faint gurgle, and he had secured the relief of absolute silence.
He looked at the woman’s face under him. A real woman! He knew her. By all that is wonderful! Taminah! He jumped up ashamed of his fury and stood perplexed125, wiping his forehead. The girl struggled to a kneeling posture126 and embraced his legs in a frenzied127 prayer for mercy.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, raising her. “I shall not hurt you. Why do you come to my house in the night? And if you had to come, why not go behind the curtain where the women sleep?”
“The place behind the curtain is empty,” gasped Taminah, catching128 her breath between the words. “There are no women in your house any more, Tuan. I saw the old Mem go away before I tried to wake you. I did not want your women, I wanted you.”
“Old Mem!” repeated Almayer. “Do you mean my wife?”
She nodded her head.
“But of my daughter you are not afraid?” said Almayer.
“Have you not heard me?” she exclaimed. “Have I not spoken for a long time when you lay there with eyes half open? She is gone too.”
“I was asleep. Can you not tell when a man is sleeping and when awake?”
“Sometimes,” answered Taminah in a low voice; “sometimes the spirit lingers close to a sleeping body and may hear. I spoke a long time before I touched you, and I spoke softly for fear it would depart at a sudden noise and leave you sleeping for ever. I took you by the shoulder only when you began to mutter words I could not understand. Have you not heard, then, and do you know nothing?”
“Nothing of what you said. What is it? Tell again if you want me to know.”
He took her by the shoulder and led her unresisting to the front of the verandah into a stronger light. She wrung129 her hands with such an appearance of grief that he began to be alarmed.
“Speak,” he said. “You made noise enough to wake even dead men. And yet nobody living came,” he added to himself in an uneasy whisper. “Are you mute? Speak!” he repeated.
In a rush of words which broke out after a short struggle from her trembling lips she told him the tale of Nina’s love and her own jealousy130. Several times he looked angrily into her face and told her to be silent; but he could not stop the sounds that seemed to him to run out in a hot stream, swirl131 about his feet, and rise in scalding waves about him, higher, higher, drowning his heart, touching132 his lips with a feel of molten lead, blotting133 out his sight in scorching134 vapour, closing over his head, merciless and deadly. When she spoke of the deception135 as to Dain’s death of which he had been the victim only that day, he glanced again at her with terrible eyes, and made her falter13 for a second, but he turned away directly, and his face suddenly lost all expression in a stony136 stare far away over the river. Ah! the river! His old friend and his old enemy, speaking always with the same voice as he runs from year to year bringing fortune or disappointment happiness or pain, upon the same varying but unchanged surface of glancing currents and swirling137 eddies. For many years he had listened to the passionless and soothing138 murmur that sometimes was the song of hope, at times the song of triumph, of encouragement; more often the whisper of consolation139 that spoke of better days to come. For so many years! So many years! And now to the accompaniment of that murmur he listened to the slow and painful beating of his heart. He listened attentively, wondering at the regularity140 of its beats. He began to count mechanically. One, two. Why count? At the next beat it must stop. No heart could suffer so and beat so steadily for long. Those regular strokes as of a muffled141 hammer that rang in his ears must stop soon. Still beating unceasing and cruel. No man can bear this; and is this the last, or will the next one be the last?—How much longer? O God! how much longer? His hand weighed heavier unconsciously on the girl’s shoulder, and she spoke the last words of her story crouching142 at his feet with tears of pain and shame and anger. Was her revenge to fail her? This white man was like a senseless stone. Too late! Too late!
“And you saw her go?” Almayer’s voice sounded harshly above her head.
“Did I not tell you?” she sobbed143, trying to wriggle144 gently out from under his grip. “Did I not tell you that I saw the witchwoman push the canoe? I lay hidden in the grass and heard all the words. She that we used to call the white Mem wanted to return to look at your face, but the witchwoman forbade her, and—”
She sank lower yet on her elbow, turning half round under the downward push of the heavy hand, her face lifted up to him with spiteful eyes.
“And she obeyed,” she shouted out in a half-laugh, half-cry of pain. “Let me go, Tuan. Why are you angry with me? Hasten, or you shall be too late to show your anger to the deceitful woman.”
Almayer dragged her up to her feet and looked close into her face while she struggled, turning her head away from his wild stare.
“Who sent you here to torment me?” he asked, violently. “I do not believe you. You lie.”
He straightened his arm suddenly and flung her across the verandah towards the doorway, where she lay immobile and silent, as if she had left her life in his grasp, a dark heap, without a sound or a stir.
“Oh! Nina!” whispered Almayer, in a voice in which reproach and love spoke together in pained tenderness. “Oh! Nina! I do not believe.”
A light draught145 from the river ran over the courtyard in a wave of bowing grass and, entering the verandah, touched Almayer’s forehead with its cool breath, in a caress146 of infinite pity. The curtain in the women’s doorway blew out and instantly collapsed147 with startling helplessness. He stared at the fluttering stuff.
“Nina!” cried Almayer. “Where are you, Nina?”
The wind passed out of the empty house in a tremulous sigh, and all was still.
Almayer hid his face in his hands as if to shut out a loathsome148 sight. When, hearing a slight rustle, he uncovered his eyes, the dark heap by the door was gone.
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1
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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4
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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14
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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19
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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21
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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22
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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23
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
lamenting
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| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
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25
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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26
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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27
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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28
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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29
witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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30
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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31
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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32
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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33
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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34
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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35
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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36
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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37
entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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38
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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39
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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40
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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41
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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42
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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43
lurks
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| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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44
antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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45
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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46
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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47
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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48
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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49
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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50
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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51
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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52
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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53
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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54
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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55
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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56
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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57
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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58
apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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59
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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60
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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61
watchfully
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| 警惕地，留心地 | |
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62
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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63
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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64
tauntingly
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| 嘲笑地，辱骂地； 嘲骂地 | |
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65
salaamed
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| 行额手礼( salaam的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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67
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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69
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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71
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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72
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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73
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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74
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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75
disparaging
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| adj.轻蔑的，毁谤的v.轻视( disparage的现在分词 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
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76
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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77
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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78
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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79
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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80
inebriety
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| n.醉，陶醉 | |
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81
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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82
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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83
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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84
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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85
oblique
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| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
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86
gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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87
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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88
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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89
whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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90
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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91
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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92
melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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93
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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94
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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95
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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96
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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97
importunity
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| n.硬要，强求 | |
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98
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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99
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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100
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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101
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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102
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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103
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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104
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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105
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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106
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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107
hazily
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| ad. vaguely, not clear | |
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108
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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109
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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110
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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111
suppliant
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| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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112
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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113
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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114
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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115
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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116
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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117
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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118
recede
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| vi.退(去)，渐渐远去；向后倾斜，缩进 | |
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119
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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120
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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121
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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122
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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123
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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124
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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125
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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126
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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127
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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128
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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129
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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130
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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131
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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132
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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133
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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134
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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135
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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136
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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137
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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138
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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139
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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140
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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141
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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142
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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143
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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144
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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145
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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146
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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147
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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148
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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