Insomuch that ere the loud chapel-clock tolled15 another hour all the trunks had been sent empty away. The carpet was unflecked by any scrap16 of silver-paper. From the mantelpiece, photographs of Zuleika surveyed the room with a possessive air. Zuleika’s pincushion, a-bristle with new pins, lay on the dimity-flounced toilet-table, and round it stood a multitude of multiform glass vessels17, domed18, all of them, with dull gold, on which Z. D., in zianites and diamonds, was encrusted. On a small table stood a great casket of malachite, initialled in like fashion. On another small table stood Zuleika’s library. Both books were in covers of dull gold. On the back of one cover BRADSHAW, in beryls, was encrusted; on the back of the other, A.B.C. GUIDE, in amethysts19, beryls, chrysoprases, and garnets. And Zuleika’s great cheval-glass stood ready to reflect her. Always it travelled with her, in a great case specially20 made for it. It was framed in ivory, and of fluted21 ivory were the slim columns it swung between. Of gold were its twin sconces, and four tall tapers22 stood in each of them.
The door opened, and the Warden, with hospitable23 words, left his grand-daughter at the threshold.
Zuleika wandered to her mirror. “Undress me, Melisande,” she said. Like all who are wont24 to appear by night before the public, she had the habit of resting towards sunset.
Presently Melisande withdrew. Her mistress, in a white peignoir tied with a blue sash, lay in a great chintz chair, gazing out of the bay-window. The quadrangle below was very beautiful, with its walls of rugged25 grey, its cloisters26, its grass carpet. But to her it was of no more interest than if it had been the rattling27 court-yard to one of those hotels in which she spent her life. She saw it, but heeded28 it not. She seemed to be thinking of herself, or of something she desired, or of some one she had never met. There was ennui29, and there was wistfulness, in her gaze. Yet one would have guessed these things to be transient—to be no more than the little shadows that sometimes pass between a bright mirror and the brightness it reflects.
Zuleika was not strictly30 beautiful. Her eyes were a trifle large, and their lashes31 longer than they need have been. An anarchy32 of small curls was her chevelure, a dark upland of misrule, every hair asserting its rights over a not discreditable brow. For the rest, her features were not at all original. They seemed to have been derived33 rather from a gallimaufry of familiar models. From Madame la Marquise de Saint-Ouen came the shapely tilt34 of the nose. The mouth was a mere35 replica36 of Cupid’s bow, lacquered scarlet37 and strung with the littlest pearls. No apple-tree, no wall of peaches, had not been robbed, nor any Tyrian rose-garden, for the glory of Miss Dobson’s cheeks. Her neck was imitation-marble. Her hands and feet were of very mean proportions. She had no waist to speak of.
Yet, though a Greek would have railed at her asymmetry38, and an Elizabethan have called her “gipsy,” Miss Dobson now, in the midst of the Edwardian Era, was the toast of two hemispheres. Late in her ‘teens she had become an orphan39 and a governess. Her grandfather had refused her appeal for a home or an allowance, on the ground that he would not be burdened with the upshot of a marriage which he had once forbidden and not yet forgiven. Lately, however, prompted by curiosity or by remorse40, he had asked her to spend a week or so of his declining years with him. And she, “resting” between two engagements—one at Hammerstein’s Victoria, N.Y.C., the other at the Folies Bergeres, Paris—and having never been in Oxford41, had so far let bygones be bygones as to come and gratify the old man’s whim42.
It may be that she still resented his indifference43 to those early struggles which, even now, she shuddered44 to recall. For a governess’ life she had been, indeed, notably45 unfit. Hard she had thought it, that penury46 should force her back into the school-room she was scarce out of, there to champion the sums and maps and conjugations she had never tried to master. Hating her work, she had failed signally to pick up any learning from her little pupils, and had been driven from house to house, a sullen47 and most ineffectual maiden48. The sequence of her situations was the swifter by reason of her pretty face. Was there a grown-up son, always he fell in love with her, and she would let his eyes trifle boldly with hers across the dinner-table. When he offered her his hand, she would refuse it—not because she “knew her place,” but because she did not love him. Even had she been a good teacher, her presence could not have been tolerated thereafter. Her corded trunk, heavier by another packet of billets-doux and a month’s salary in advance, was soon carried up the stairs of some other house.
It chanced that she came, at length, to be governess in a large family that had Gibbs for its name and Notting Hill for its background. Edward, the eldest50 son, was a clerk in the city, who spent his evenings in the practice of amateur conjuring51. He was a freckled52 youth, with hair that bristled53 in places where it should have lain smooth, and he fell in love with Zuleika duly, at first sight, during high-tea. In the course of the evening, he sought to win her admiration54 by a display of all his tricks. These were familiar to this household, and the children had been sent to bed, the mother was dozing55, long before the seance was at an end. But Miss Dobson, unaccustomed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by the young man’s sleight56 of hand, marvelling57 that a top-hat could hold so many goldfish, and a handkerchief turn so swiftly into a silver florin. All that night, she lay wide awake, haunted by the miracles he had wrought58. Next evening, when she asked him to repeat them, “Nay,” he whispered, “I cannot bear to deceive the girl I love. Permit me to explain the tricks.” So he explained them. His eyes sought hers across the bowl of gold-fish, his fingers trembled as he taught her to manipulate the magic canister. One by one, she mastered the paltry59 secrets. Her respect for him waned60 with every revelation. He complimented her on her skill. “I could not do it more neatly61 myself!” he said. “Oh, dear Miss Dobson, will you but accept my hand, all these things shall be yours—the cards, the canister, the goldfish, the demon62 egg-cup—all yours!” Zuleika, with ravishing coyness, answered that if he would give her them now, she would “think it over.” The swain consented, and at bed-time she retired63 with the gift under her arm. In the light of her bedroom candle Marguerite hung not in greater ecstasy64 over the jewel-casket than hung Zuleika over the box of tricks. She clasped her hands over the tremendous possibilities it held for her—manumission from her bondage65, wealth, fame, power. Stealthily, so soon as the house slumbered66, she packed her small outfit67, embedding68 therein the precious gift. Noiselessly, she shut the lid of her trunk, corded it, shouldered it, stole down the stairs with it. Outside—how that chain had grated! and her shoulder, how it was aching!—she soon found a cab. She took a night’s sanctuary69 in some railway-hotel. Next day, she moved into a small room in a lodging-house off the Edgware Road, and there for a whole week she was sedulous70 in the practice of her tricks. Then she inscribed71 her name on the books of a “Juvenile Party Entertainments Agency.”
The Christmas holidays were at hand, and before long she got an engagement. It was a great evening for her. Her repertory was, it must be confessed, old and obvious; but the children, in deference72 to their hostess, pretended not to know how the tricks were done, and assumed their prettiest airs of wonder and delight. One of them even pretended to be frightened, and was led howling from the room. In fact, the whole thing went off splendidly. The hostess was charmed, and told Zuleika that a glass of lemonade would be served to her in the hall. Other engagements soon followed. Zuleika was very, very happy. I cannot claim for her that she had a genuine passion for her art. The true conjurer finds his guerdon in the consciousness of work done perfectly74 and for its own sake. Lucre75 and applause are not necessary to him. If he were set down, with the materials of his art, on a desert island, he would yet be quite happy. He would not cease to produce the barber’s-pole from his mouth. To the indifferent winds he would still speak his patter, and even in the last throes of starvation would not eat his live rabbit or his gold-fish. Zuleika, on a desert island, would have spent most of her time in looking for a man’s foot-print. She was, indeed, far too human a creature to care much for art. I do not say that she took her work lightly. She thought she had genius, and she liked to be told that this was so. But mainly she loved her work as a means of mere self-display. The frank admiration which, into whatsoever76 house she entered, the grown-up sons flashed on her; their eagerness to see her to the door; their impressive way of putting her into her omnibus—these were the things she revelled77 in. She was a nymph to whom men’s admiration was the greater part of life. By day, whenever she went into the streets, she was conscious that no man passed her without a stare; and this consciousness gave a sharp zest78 to her outings. Sometimes she was followed to her door—crude flattery which she was too innocent to fear. Even when she went into the haberdasher’s to make some little purchase of tape or riband, or into the grocer’s—for she was an epicure79 in her humble80 way—to buy a tin of potted meat for her supper, the homage81 of the young men behind the counter did flatter and exhilarate her. As the homage of men became for her, more and more, a matter of course, the more subtly necessary was it to her happiness. The more she won of it, the more she treasured it. She was alone in the world, and it saved her from any moment of regret that she had neither home nor friends. For her the streets that lay around her had no squalor, since she paced them always in the gold nimbus of her fascinations82. Her bedroom seemed not mean nor lonely to her, since the little square of glass, nailed above the wash-stand, was ever there to reflect her face. Thereinto, indeed, she was ever peering. She would droop83 her head from side to side, she would bend it forward and see herself from beneath her eyelashes, then tilt it back and watch herself over her supercilious84 chin. And she would smile, frown, pout85, languish—let all the emotions hover86 upon her face; and always she seemed to herself lovelier than she had ever been.
Yet was there nothing Narcissine in her spirit. Her love for her own image was not cold aestheticism. She valued that image not for its own sake, but for sake of the glory it always won for her. In the little remote music-hall, where she was soon appearing nightly as an “early turn,” she reaped glory in a nightly harvest. She could feel that all the gallery-boys, because of her, were scornful of the sweethearts wedged between them, and she knew that she had but to say “Will any gentleman in the audience be so good as to lend me his hat?” for the stalls to rise as one man and rush towards the platform. But greater things were in store for her. She was engaged at two halls in the West End. Her horizon was fast receding87 and expanding. Homage became nightly tangible88 in bouquets89, rings, brooches—things acceptable and (luckier than their donors) accepted. Even Sunday was not barren for Zuleika: modish90 hostesses gave her postprandially to their guests. Came that Sunday night, notanda candidissimo calculo! when she received certain guttural compliments which made absolute her vogue91 and enabled her to command, thenceforth, whatever terms she asked for.
Already, indeed, she was rich. She was living at the most exorbitant92 hotel in all Mayfair. She had innumerable gowns and no necessity to buy jewels; and she also had, which pleased her most, the fine cheval-glass I have described. At the close of the Season, Paris claimed her for a month’s engagement. Paris saw her and was prostrate93. Boldini did a portrait of her. Jules Bloch wrote a song about her; and this, for a whole month, was howled up and down the cobbled alleys94 of Montmartre. And all the little dandies were mad for “la Zuleika.” The jewellers of the Rue73 de la Paix soon had nothing left to put in their windows—everything had been bought for “la Zuleika.” For a whole month, baccarat was not played at the Jockey Club—every member had succumbed95 to a nobler passion. For a whole month, the whole demi-monde was forgotten for one English virgin. Never, even in Paris, had a woman triumphed so. When the day came for her departure, the city wore such an air of sullen mourning as it had not worn since the Prussians marched to its Elysee. Zuleika, quite untouched, would not linger in the conquered city. Agents had come to her from every capital in Europe, and, for a year, she ranged, in triumphal nomady, from one capital to another. In Berlin, every night, the students escorted her home with torches. Prince Vierfuenfsechs-Siebenachtneun offered her his hand, and was condemned96 by the Kaiser to six months’ confinement97 in his little castle. In Yildiz Kiosk, the tyrant98 who still throve there conferred on her the Order of Chastity, and offered her the central couch in his seraglio. She gave her performance in the Quirinal, and, from the Vatican, the Pope launched against her a Bull which fell utterly99 flat. In Petersburg, the Grand Duke Salamander Salamandrovitch fell enamoured of her. Of every article in the apparatus100 of her conjuring-tricks he caused a replica to be made in finest gold. These treasures he presented to her in that great malachite casket which now stood on the little table in her room; and thenceforth it was with these that she performed her wonders. They did not mark the limit of the Grand Duke’s generosity101. He was for bestowing102 on Zuleika the half of his immensurable estates. The Grand Duchess appealed to the Tzar. Zuleika was conducted across the frontier, by an escort of love-sick Cossacks. On the Sunday before she left Madrid, a great bull-fight was held in her honour. Fifteen bulls received the coup-de-grace, and Alvarez, the matador103 of matadors104, died in the arena105 with her name on his lips. He had tried to kill the last bull without taking his eyes off la divina senorita. A prettier compliment had never been paid her, and she was immensely pleased with it. For that matter, she was immensely pleased with everything. She moved proudly to the incessant106 music of a paean107, aye! of a paean that was always crescendo108.
Its echoes followed her when she crossed the Atlantic, till they were lost in the louder, deeper, more blatant109 paean that rose for her from the shores beyond. All the stops of that “mighty organ, many-piped,” the New York press, were pulled out simultaneously110, as far as they could be pulled, in Zuleika’s honour. She delighted in the din49. She read every line that was printed about her, tasting her triumph as she had never tasted it before. And how she revelled in the Brobdingnagian drawings of her, which, printed in nineteen colours, towered between the columns or sprawled111 across them! There she was, measuring herself back to back with the Statue of Liberty; scudding112 through the firmament113 on a comet, whilst a crowd of tiny men in evening-dress stared up at her from the terrestrial globe; peering through a microscope held by Cupid over a diminutive114 Uncle Sam; teaching the American Eagle to stand on its head; and doing a hundred-and-one other things—whatever suggested itself to the fancy of native art. And through all this iridescent115 maze116 of symbolism were scattered117 many little slabs118 of realism. At home, on the street, Zuleika was the smiling target of all snap-shooters, and all the snap-shots were snapped up by the press and reproduced with annotations119: Zuleika Dobson walking on Broadway in the sables120 gifted her by Grand Duke Salamander—she says “You can bounce blizzards121 in them”; Zuleika Dobson yawning over a love-letter from millionaire Edelweiss; relishing122 a cup of clam-broth—she says “They don’t use clams123 out there”; ordering her maid to fix her a warm bath; finding a split in the gloves she has just drawn124 on before starting for the musicale given in her honour by Mrs. Suetonius X. Meistersinger, the most exclusive woman in New York; chatting at the telephone to Miss Camille Van Spook, the best-born girl in New York; laughing over the recollection of a compliment made her by George Abimelech Post, the best-groomed man in New York; meditating125 a new trick; admonishing126 a waiter who has upset a cocktail127 over her skirt; having herself manicured; drinking tea in bed. Thus was Zuleika enabled daily to be, as one might say, a spectator of her own wonderful life. On her departure from New York, the papers spoke128 no more than the truth when they said she had had “a lovely time.” The further she went West—millionaire Edelweiss had loaned her his private car—the lovelier her time was. Chicago drowned the echoes of New York; final Frisco dwarfed129 the headlines of Chicago. Like one of its own prairie-fires, she swept the country from end to end. Then she swept back, and sailed for England. She was to return for a second season in the coming Fall. At present, she was, as I have said, “resting.”
As she sat here in the bay-window of her room, she was not reviewing the splendid pageant130 of her past. She was a young person whose reveries never were in retrospect131. For her the past was no treasury132 of distinct memories, all hoarded133 and classified, some brighter than others and more highly valued. All memories were for her but as the motes134 in one fused radiance that followed her and made more luminous135 the pathway of her future. She was always looking forward. She was looking forward now—that shade of ennui had passed from her face—to the week she was to spend in Oxford. A new city was a new toy to her, and—for it was youth’s homage that she loved best—this city of youths was a toy after her own heart.
Aye, and it was youths who gave homage to her most freely. She was of that high-stepping and flamboyant136 type that captivates youth most surely. Old men and men of middle age admired her, but she had not that flower-like quality of shyness and helplessness, that look of innocence137, so dear to men who carry life’s secrets in their heads. Yet Zuleika WAS very innocent, really. She was as pure as that young shepherdess Marcella, who, all unguarded, roved the mountains and was by all the shepherds adored. Like Marcella, she had given her heart to no man, had preferred none. Youths were reputed to have died for love of her, as Chrysostom died for love of the shepherdess; and she, like the shepherdess, had shed no tear. When Chrysostom was lying on his bier in the valley, and Marcella looked down from the high rock, Ambrosio, the dead man’s comrade, cried out on her, upbraiding138 her with bitter words—“Oh basilisk of our mountains!” Nor do I think Ambrosio spoke too strongly. Marcella cared nothing for men’s admiration, and yet, instead of retiring to one of those nunneries which are founded for her kind, she chose to rove the mountains, causing despair to all the shepherds. Zuleika, with her peculiar139 temperament140, would have gone mad in a nunnery. “But,” you may argue, “ought not she to have taken the veil, even at the cost of her reason, rather than cause so much despair in the world? If Marcella was a basilisk, as you seem to think, how about Miss Dobson?” Ah, but Marcella knew quite well, boasted even, that she never would or could love any man. Zuleika, on the other hand, was a woman of really passionate141 fibre. She may not have had that conscious, separate, and quite explicit142 desire to be a mother with which modern playwrights143 credit every unmated member of her sex. But she did know that she could love. And, surely, no woman who knows that of herself can be rightly censured144 for not recluding herself from the world: it is only women without the power to love who have no right to provoke men’s love.
Though Zuleika had never given her heart, strong in her were the desire and the need that it should be given. Whithersoever she had fared, she had seen nothing but youths fatuously145 prostrate to her—not one upright figure which she could respect. There were the middle-aged146 men, the old men, who did not bow down to her; but from middle-age, as from eld, she had a sanguine147 aversion. She could love none but a youth. Nor—though she herself, womanly, would utterly abase148 herself before her ideal—could she love one who fell prone149 before her. And before her all youths always did fall prone. She was an empress, and all youths were her slaves. Their bondage delighted her, as I have said. But no empress who has any pride can adore one of her slaves. Whom, then, could proud Zuleika adore? It was a question which sometimes troubled her. There were even moments when, looking into her cheval-glass, she cried out against that arrangement in comely150 lines and tints151 which got for her the dulia she delighted in. To be able to love once—would not that be better than all the homage in the world? But would she ever meet whom, looking up to him, she could love—she, the omnisubjugant? Would she ever, ever meet him?
It was when she wondered thus, that the wistfulness came into her eyes. Even now, as she sat by the window, that shadow returned to them. She was wondering, shyly, had she met him at length? That young equestrian152 who had not turned to look at her; whom she was to meet at dinner to-night... was it he? The ends of her blue sash lay across her lap, and she was lazily unravelling153 their fringes. “Blue and white!” she remembered. “They were the colours he wore round his hat.” And she gave a little laugh of coquetry. She laughed, and, long after, her lips were still parted in a smile.
So did she sit, smiling, wondering, with the fringes of her sash between her fingers, while the sun sank behind the opposite wall of the quadrangle, and the shadows crept out across the grass, thirsty for the dew.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
warden
|
|
| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
glorified
|
|
| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
excavation
|
|
| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
majestically
|
|
| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
recesses
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
profusion
|
|
| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
chaos
|
|
| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
tolled
|
|
| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
vessels
|
|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
domed
|
|
| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
amethysts
|
|
| n.紫蓝色宝石( amethyst的名词复数 )；紫晶；紫水晶；紫色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
fluted
|
|
| a.有凹槽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
tapers
|
|
| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
cloisters
|
|
| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
rattling
|
|
| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
heeded
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
ennui
|
|
| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
lashes
|
|
| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
anarchy
|
|
| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
tilt
|
|
| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
replica
|
|
| n.复制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
asymmetry
|
|
| n.不对称；adj.不对称的，不对等的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
whim
|
|
| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
shuddered
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
notably
|
|
| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
penury
|
|
| n.贫穷，拮据 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
conjuring
|
|
| n.魔术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
freckled
|
|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
bristled
|
|
| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
dozing
|
|
| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
sleight
|
|
| n.技巧，花招 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
marvelling
|
|
| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
paltry
|
|
| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
waned
|
|
| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
bondage
|
|
| n.奴役，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
slumbered
|
|
| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
outfit
|
|
| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
embedding
|
|
| 把…嵌入，埋入( embed的现在分词 )； 植入； 埋置； 包埋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
sanctuary
|
|
| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
sedulous
|
|
| adj.勤勉的，努力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
lucre
|
|
| n.金钱，财富 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
whatsoever
|
|
| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
revelled
|
|
| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
zest
|
|
| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
epicure
|
|
| n.行家，美食家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
homage
|
|
| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
fascinations
|
|
| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
droop
|
|
| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
supercilious
|
|
| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
pout
|
|
| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
hover
|
|
| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
receding
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
bouquets
|
|
| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
modish
|
|
| adj.流行的，时髦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
Vogue
|
|
| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
exorbitant
|
|
| adj.过分的；过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
prostrate
|
|
| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
alleys
|
|
| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
succumbed
|
|
| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
confinement
|
|
| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
apparatus
|
|
| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
bestowing
|
|
| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
matador
|
|
| n.斗牛士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
matadors
|
|
| n.斗牛士( matador的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
arena
|
|
| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
paean
|
|
| n.赞美歌，欢乐歌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
crescendo
|
|
| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
blatant
|
|
| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
simultaneously
|
|
| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
sprawled
|
|
| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
scudding
|
|
| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
firmament
|
|
| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
diminutive
|
|
| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
iridescent
|
|
| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
slabs
|
|
| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
annotations
|
|
| n.注释( annotation的名词复数 )；附注 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
sables
|
|
| n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 )；紫貂皮；阴暗的；暗夜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
blizzards
|
|
| 暴风雪( blizzard的名词复数 )； 暴风雪似的一阵，大量（或大批） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
relishing
|
|
| v.欣赏( relish的现在分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
clams
|
|
| n.蛤；蚌，蛤( clam的名词复数 )v.（在沙滩上）挖蛤( clam的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
meditating
|
|
| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
admonishing
|
|
| v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
cocktail
|
|
| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
dwarfed
|
|
| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
pageant
|
|
| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
retrospect
|
|
| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
treasury
|
|
| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
hoarded
|
|
| v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
motes
|
|
| n.尘埃( mote的名词复数 )；斑点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
flamboyant
|
|
| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
upbraiding
|
|
| adj.& n.谴责（的）v.责备，申斥，谴责( upbraid的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
explicit
|
|
| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
playwrights
|
|
| n.剧作家( playwright的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
censured
|
|
| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
fatuously
|
|
| adv.愚昧地，昏庸地，蠢地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
sanguine
|
|
| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
abase
|
|
| v.降低，贬抑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
prone
|
|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
equestrian
|
|
| adj.骑马的；n.马术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
unravelling
|
|
| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |