Shades of Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel and other despicable maunderers! He brushed them aside. He would be practical. The point was, when and how to die? Time: the sooner the better. Manner:.. less easy to determine. He must not die horribly, nor without dignity. The manner of the Roman philosophers? But the only kind of bath which an undergraduate can command is a hip-bath. Stay! there was the river. Drowning (he had often heard) was a rather pleasant sensation. And to the river he was even now on his way.
It troubled him that he could swim. Twice, indeed, from his yacht, he had swum the Hellespont. And how about the animal instinct of self-preservation, strong even in despair? No matter! His soul’s set purpose would subdue9 that. The law of gravitation that brings one to the surface? There his very skill in swimming would help him. He would swim under water, along the river-bed, swim till he found weeds to cling to, weird10 strong weeds that he would coil round him, exulting11 faintly...
As they turned into Radcliffe Square, the Duke’s ear caught the sound of a far-distant gun. He started, and looked up at the clock of St. Mary’s. Half-past four! The boats had started.
He had heard that whenever a woman was to blame for a disappointment, the best way to avoid a scene was to inculpate12 oneself. He did not wish Zuleika to store up yet more material for penitence13. And so “I am sorry,” he said. “That gun—did you hear it? It was the signal for the race. I shall never forgive myself.”
“Then we shan’t see the race at all?” cried Zuleika.
“It will be over, alas14, before we are near the river. All the people will be coming back through the meadows.”
“Let us meet them.”
“Let us go straight on.”
Through the square, across the High, down Grove16 Street, they passed. The Duke looked up at the tower of Merton, “os oupot authis alla nyn paunstaton.” Strange that to-night it would still be standing18 here, in all its sober and solid beauty—still be gazing, over the roofs and chimneys, at the tower of Magdalen, its rightful bride. Through untold19 centuries of the future it would stand thus, gaze thus. He winced20. Oxford21 walls have a way of belittling22 us; and the Duke was loth to regard his doom23 as trivial.
Aye, by all minerals we are mocked. Vegetables, yearly deciduous24, are far more sympathetic. The lilac and laburnum, making lovely now the railed pathway to Christ Church meadow, were all a-swaying and a-nodding to the Duke as he passed by. “Adieu, adieu, your Grace,” they were whispering. “We are very sorry for you—very sorry indeed. We never dared suppose you would predecease us. We think your death a very great tragedy. Adieu! Perhaps we shall meet in another world—that is, if the members of the animal kingdom have immortal25 souls, as we have.”
The Duke was little versed26 in their language; yet, as he passed between these gently garrulous27 blooms, he caught at least the drift of their salutation, and smiled a vague but courteous28 acknowledgment, to the right and the left alternately, creating a very favourable29 impression.
No doubt, the young elms lining30 the straight way to the barges32 had seen him coming; but any whispers of their leaves were lost in the murmur33 of the crowd returning from the race. Here, at length, came the torrent of which the Duke had spoken; and Zuleika’s heart rose at it. Here was Oxford! From side to side the avenue was filled with a dense35 procession of youths—youths interspersed36 with maidens37 whose parasols were as flotsam and jetsam on a seething38 current of straw hats. Zuleika neither quickened nor slackened her advance. But brightlier and brightlier shone her eyes.
The vanguard of the procession was pausing now, swaying, breaking at sight of her. She passed, imperial, through the way cloven for her. All a-down the avenue, the throng39 parted as though some great invisible comb were being drawn40 through it. The few youths who had already seen Zuleika, and by whom her beauty had been bruited41 throughout the University, were lost in a new wonder, so incomparably fairer was she than the remembered vision. And the rest hardly recognised her from the descriptions, so incomparably fairer was the reality than the hope.
She passed among them. None questioned the worthiness42 of her escort. Could I give you better proof the awe43 in which our Duke was held? Any man is glad to be seen escorting a very pretty woman. He thinks it adds to his prestige. Whereas, in point of fact, his fellow-men are saying merely “Who’s that appalling45 fellow with her?” or “Why does she go about with that ass17 So-and-So?” Such cavil46 may in part be envy. But it is a fact that no man, howsoever graced, can shine in juxtaposition47 to a very pretty woman. The Duke himself cut a poor figure beside Zuleika. Yet not one of all the undergraduates felt she could have made a wiser choice.
She swept among them. Her own intrinsic radiance was not all that flashed from her. She was a moving reflector and refractor of all the rays of all the eyes that mankind had turned on her. Her mien48 told the story of her days. Bright eyes, light feet—she trod erect49 from a vista50 whose glare was dazzling to all beholders. She swept among them, a miracle, overwhelming, breath-bereaving. Nothing at all like her had ever been seen in Oxford.
Mainly architectural, the beauties of Oxford. True, the place is no longer one-sexed. There are the virguncules of Somerville and Lady Margaret’s Hall; but beauty and the lust51 for learning have yet to be allied52. There are the innumerable wives and daughters around the Parks, running in and out of their little red-brick villas53; but the indignant shade of celibacy54 seems to have called down on the dons a Nemesis55 which precludes56 them from either marrying beauty or begetting57 it. (From the Warden’s son, that unhappy curate, Zuleika inherited no tittle of her charm. Some of it, there is no doubt, she did inherit from the circus-rider who was her mother.)
But the casual feminine visitors? Well, the sisters and cousins of an undergraduate seldom seem more passable to his comrades than to himself. Altogether, the instinct of sex is not pandered58 to in Oxford. It is not, however, as it may once have been, dormant60. The modern importation of samples of femininity serves to keep it alert, though not to gratify it. A like result is achieved by another modern development—photography. The undergraduate may, and usually does, surround himself with photographs of pretty ladies known to the public. A phantom61 harem! Yet the houris have an effect on their sultan. Surrounded both by plain women of flesh and blood and by beauteous women on pasteboard, the undergraduate is the easiest victim of living loveliness—is as a fire ever well and truly laid, amenable62 to a spark. And if the spark be such a flaring63 torch as Zuleika?—marvel not, reader, at the conflagration64.
Not only was the whole throng of youths drawing asunder65 before her: much of it, as she passed, was forming up in her wake. Thus, with the confluence66 of two masses—one coming away from the river, the other returning to it—chaos seethed67 around her and the Duke before they were half-way along the avenue. Behind them, and on either side of them, the people were crushed inextricably together, swaying and surging this way and that. “Help!” cried many a shrill68 feminine voice. “Don’t push!” “Let me out!” “You brute69!” “Save me, save me!” Many ladies fainted, whilst their escorts, supporting them and protecting them as best they could, peered over the heads of their fellows for one glimpse of the divine Miss Dobson. Yet for her and the Duke, in the midst of the terrific compress, there was space enough. In front of them, as by a miracle of deference70, a way still cleared itself. They reached the end of the avenue without a pause in their measured progress. Nor even when they turned to the left, along the rather narrow path beside the barges, was there any obstacle to their advance. Passing evenly forward, they alone were cool, unhustled, undishevelled.
The Duke was so rapt in his private thoughts that he was hardly conscious of the strange scene. And as for Zuleika, she, as well she might be, was in the very best of good humours.
“What a lot of house-boats!” she exclaimed. “Are you going to take me on to one of them?”
She looked back. The young men in the vanguard were crushing their shoulders against the row behind them, to stay the oncoming host. She had half a mind to go back through the midst of them; but she really did want her tea, and she followed the Duke on to the barge, and under his auspices72 climbed the steps to the roof.
It looked very cool and gay, this roof, under its awning73 of red and white stripes. Nests of red and white flowers depended along either side of it. Zuleika moved to the side which commanded a view of the bank. She leaned her arms on the balustrade, and gazed down.
The crowd stretched as far as she could see—a vista of faces upturned to her. Suddenly it hove forward. Its vanguard was swept irresistibly74 past the barge—swept by the desire of the rest to see her at closer quarters. Such was the impetus75 that the vision for each man was but a lightning-flash: he was whirled past, struggling, almost before his brain took the message of his eyes.
Those who were Judas men made frantic76 efforts to board the barge, trying to hurl77 themselves through the gate in the railings; but they were swept vainly on.
Presently the torrent began to slacken, became a mere44 river, a mere procession of youths staring up rather shyly.
Before the last stragglers had marched by, Zuleika moved away to the other side of the roof, and, after a glance at the sunlit river, sank into one of the wicker chairs, and asked the Duke to look less disagreeable and to give her some tea.
Among others hovering78 near the little buffet79 were the two youths whose parley80 with the Duke I have recorded.
Zuleika was aware of the special persistence81 of their gaze. When the Duke came back with her cup, she asked him who they were. He replied, truthfully enough, that their names were unknown to him.
“Then,” she said, “ask them their names, and introduce them to me.”
“No,” said the Duke, sinking into the chair beside her. “That I shall not do. I am your victim: not your pander59. Those two men stand on the threshold of a possibly useful and agreeable career. I am not going to trip them up for you.”
“I am not sure,” said Zuleika, “that you are very polite. Certainly you are foolish. It is natural for boys to fall in love. If these two are in love with me, why not let them talk to me? It were an experience on which they would always look back with romantic pleasure. They may never see me again. Why grudge82 them this little thing?” She sipped83 her tea. “As for tripping them up on a threshold—that is all nonsense. What harm has unrequited love ever done to anybody?” She laughed. “Look at ME! When I came to your rooms this morning, thinking I loved in vain, did I seem one jot84 the worse for it? Did I look different?”
“You looked, I am bound to say, nobler, more spiritual.”
“More spiritual?” she exclaimed. “Do you mean I looked tired or ill?”
“No, you seemed quite fresh. But then, you are singular. You are no criterion.”
“You mean you can’t judge those two young men by me? Well, I am only a woman, of course. I have heard of women, no longer young, wasting away because no man loved them. I have often heard of a young woman fretting85 because some particular young man didn’t love her. But I never heard of her wasting away. Certainly a young man doesn’t waste away for love of some particular young woman. He very soon makes love to some other one. If his be an ardent86 nature, the quicker his transition. All the most ardent of my past adorers have married. Will you put my cup down, please?”
“Past?” echoed the Duke, as he placed her cup on the floor. “Have any of your lovers ceased to love you?”
“Ah no, no; not in retrospect87. I remain their ideal, and all that, of course. They cherish the thought of me. They see the world in terms of me. But I am an inspiration, not an obsession88; a glow, not a blight89.”
“No,” laughed Zuleika.
“You have never dipped into the Greek pastoral poets, nor sampled the Elizabethan sonneteers?”
“No, never. You will think me lamentably91 crude: my experience of life has been drawn from life itself.”
“Yet often you talk as though you had read rather much. Your way of speech has what is called ‘the literary flavour’.”
“Ah, that is an unfortunate trick which I caught from a writer, a Mr. Beerbohm, who once sat next to me at dinner somewhere. I can’t break myself of it. I assure you I hardly ever open a book. Of life, though, my experience has been very wide. Brief? But I suppose the soul of man during the past two or three years has been much as it was in the reign92 of Queen Elizabeth and of—whoever it was that reigned93 over the Greek pastures. And I daresay the modern poets are making the same old silly distortions. But forgive me,” she added gently, “perhaps you yourself are a poet?”
“Only since yesterday,” answered the Duke (not less unfairly to himself than to Roger Newdigate and Thomas Gaisford). And he felt he was especially a dramatic poet. All the while that she had been sitting by him here, talking so glibly94, looking so straight into his eyes, flashing at him so many pretty gestures, it was the sense of tragic95 irony96 that prevailed in him—that sense which had stirred in him, and been repressed, on the way from Judas. He knew that she was making her effect consciously for the other young men by whom the roof of the barge was now thronged97. Him alone she seemed to observe. By her manner, she might have seemed to be making love to him. He envied the men she was so deliberately98 making envious—the men whom, in her undertone to him, she was really addressing. But he did take comfort in the irony. Though she used him as a stalking-horse, he, after all, was playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse. While she chattered99 on, without an inkling that he was no ordinary lover, and coaxing100 him to present two quite ordinary young men to her, he held over her the revelation that he for love of her was about to die.
And, while he drank in the radiance of her beauty, he heard her chattering101 on. “So you see,” she was saying, “it couldn’t do those young men any harm. Suppose unrequited love IS anguish102: isn’t the discipline wholesome103? Suppose I AM a sort of furnace: shan’t I purge104, refine, temper? Those two boys are but scorched105 from here. That is horrid106; and what good will it do them?” She laid a hand on his arm. “Cast them into the furnace for their own sake, dear Duke! Or cast one of them, or,” she added, glancing round at the throng, “any one of these others!”
“For their own sake?” he echoed, withdrawing his arm. “If you were not, as the whole world knows you to be, perfectly107 respectable, there might be something in what you say. But as it is, you can but be an engine for mischief108; and your sophistries109 leave me unmoved. I shall certainly keep you to myself.”
“So long as I live,” uttered the Duke, in a level voice, “you will address no man but me.”
“If your prophecy is to be fulfilled,” laughed Zuleika, rising from her chair, “your last moment is at hand.”
“It is,” he answered, rising too.
“I mean what I say: that my last moment is at hand.” He withdrew his eyes from hers, and, leaning his elbows on the balustrade, gazed thoughtfully at the river. “When I am dead,” he added, over his shoulder, “you will find these fellows rather coy of your advances.”
For the first time since his avowal112 of his love for her, Zuleika found herself genuinely interested in him. A suspicion of his meaning had flashed through her soul.—But no! surely he could not mean THAT! It must have been a metaphor113 merely. And yet, something in his eyes... She leaned beside him. Her shoulder touched his. She gazed questioningly at him. He did not turn his face to her. He gazed at the sunlit river.
The Judas Eight had just embarked114 for their voyage to the starting-point. Standing on the edge of the raft that makes a floating platform for the barge, William, the hoary115 bargee, was pushing them off with his boat-hook, wishing them luck with deferential116 familiarity. The raft was thronged with Old Judasians—mostly clergymen—who were shouting hearty117 hortations, and evidently trying not to appear so old as they felt—or rather, not to appear so startlingly old as their contemporaries looked to them. It occurred to the Duke as a strange thing, and a thing to be glad of, that he, in this world, would never be an Old Judasian. Zuleika’s shoulder pressed his. He thrilled not at all. To all intents, he was dead already.
The enormous eight young men in the thread-like skiff—the skiff that would scarce have seemed an adequate vehicle for the tiny “cox” who sat facing them—were staring up at Zuleika with that uniformity of impulse which, in another direction, had enabled them to bump a boat on two of the previous “nights.” If to-night they bumped the next boat, Univ., then would Judas be three places “up” on the river; and to-morrow Judas would have a Bump Supper. Furthermore, if Univ. were bumped to-night, Magdalen might be bumped to-morrow. Then would Judas, for the first time in history, be head of the river. Oh tremulous hope! Yet, for the moment, these eight young men seemed to have forgotten the awful responsibility that rested on their over-developed shoulders. Their hearts, already strained by rowing, had been transfixed this afternoon by Eros’ darts118. All of them had seen Zuleika as she came down to the river; and now they sat gaping119 up at her, fumbling120 with their oars121. The tiny cox gaped122 too; but he it was who first recalled duty. With piping adjurations he brought the giants back to their senses. The boat moved away down stream, with a fairly steady stroke.
Not in a day can the traditions of Oxford be sent spinning. From all the barges the usual punt-loads of young men were being ferried across to the towing-path—young men naked of knee, armed with rattles123, post-horns, motor-hooters, gongs, and other instruments of clangour. Though Zuleika filled their thoughts, they hurried along the towing-path, as by custom, to the starting-point.
She, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off the Duke’s profile. Nor had she dared, for fear of disappointment, to ask him just what he had meant.
“All these men,” he repeated dreamily, “will be coy of your advances.” It seemed to him a good thing that his death, his awful example, would disinfatuate his fellow alumni. He had never been conscious of public spirit. He had lived for himself alone. Love had come to him yesternight, and to-day had waked in him a sympathy with mankind. It was a fine thing to be a saviour124. It was splendid to be human. He looked quickly round to her who had wrought125 this change in him.
But the loveliest face in all the world will not please you if you see it suddenly, eye to eye, at a distance of half an inch from your own. It was thus that the Duke saw Zuleika’s: a monstrous126 deliquium a-glare. Only for the fraction of an instant, though. Recoiling127, he beheld128 the loveliness that he knew—more adorably vivid now in its look of eager questioning. And in his every fibre he thrilled to her. Even so had she gazed at him last night, this morning. Aye, now as then, her soul was full of him. He had recaptured, not her love, but his power to please her. It was enough. He bowed his head; and “Moriturus te saluto” were the words formed silently by his lips. He was glad that his death would be a public service to the University. But the salutary lesson of what the newspapers would call his “rash act” was, after all, only a side-issue. The great thing, the prospect129 that flushed his cheek, was the consummation of his own love, for its own sake, by his own death. And, as he met her gaze, the question that had already flitted through his brain found a faltering130 utterance131; and “Shall you mourn me?” he asked her.
“Do you not know?”
“Tell me.”
“Once and for all: you cannot love me?”
Slowly she shook her head. The black pearl and the pink, quivering, gave stress to her ultimatum133. But the violet of her eyes was all but hidden by the dilation134 of her pupils.
“Then,” whispered the Duke, “when I shall have died, deeming life a vain thing without you, will the gods give you tears for me? Miss Dobson, will your soul awaken135? When I shall have sunk for ever beneath these waters whose supposed purpose here this afternoon is but that they be ploughed by the blades of these young oarsmen, will there be struck from that flint, your heart, some late and momentary136 spark of pity for me?”
“Why of course, of COURSE!” babbled137 Zuleika, with clasped hands and dazzling eyes. “But,” she curbed138 herself, “it is—it would—oh, you mustn’t THINK of it! I couldn’t allow it! I—I should never forgive myself!”
“In fact, you would mourn me always?”
“Why yes!.. Y-es-always.” What else could she say? But would his answer be that he dared not condemn139 her to lifelong torment140?
“Then,” his answer was, “my joy in dying for you is made perfect.”
Her muscles relaxed. Her breath escaped between her teeth. “You are utterly141 resolved?” she asked. “Are you?”
“Utterly.”
“Nothing I might say could change your purpose?”
“Nothing.”
“None.”
Forthwith she urged, entreated143, cajoled, commanded, with infinite prettiness of ingenuity144 and of eloquence145. Never was such a cascade146 of dissuasion147 as hers. She only didn’t say she could love him. She never hinted that. Indeed, throughout her pleading rang this recurrent motif148: that he must live to take to himself as mate some good, serious, clever woman who would be a not unworthy mother of his children.
She laid stress on his youth, his great position, his brilliant attainments150, the much he had already achieved, the splendid possibilities of his future. Though of course she spoke34 in undertones, not to be overheard by the throng on the barge, it was almost as though his health were being floridly proposed at some public banquet—say, at a Tenants’ Dinner. Insomuch that, when she ceased, the Duke half expected Jellings, his steward151, to bob up uttering, with lifted hands, a stentorian152 “For-or,” and all the company to take up the chant: “he’s—a jolly good fellow.” His brief reply, on those occasions, seemed always to indicate that, whatever else he might be, a jolly good fellow he was not. But by Zuleika’s eulogy153 he really was touched. “Thank you—thank you,” he gasped154; and there were tears in his eyes. Dear the thought that she so revered155 him, so wished him not to die. But this was no more than a rush-light in the austere156 radiance of his joy in dying for her.
“Good-bye,” he said simply, and was about to swing himself on to the ledge159 of the balustrade. Zuleika, divining his intention, made way for him. Her bosom160 heaved quickly, quickly. All colour had left her face; but her eyes shone as never before.
Already his foot was on the ledge, when hark! the sound of a distant gun. To Zuleika, with all the chords of her soul strung to the utmost tensity, the effect was as if she herself had been shot; and she clutched at the Duke’s arm, like a frightened child. He laughed. “It was the signal for the race,” he said, and laughed again, rather bitterly, at the crude and trivial interruption of high matters.
“The race?” She laughed hysterically161.
“Yes. ‘They’re off’.” He mingled162 his laughter with hers, gently seeking to disengage his arm. “And perhaps,” he said, “I, clinging to the weeds of the river’s bed, shall see dimly the boats and the oars pass over me, and shall be able to gurgle a cheer for Judas.”
“Don’t!” she shuddered163, with a woman’s notion that a jest means levity164. A tumult165 of thoughts surged in her, all confused. She only knew that he must not die—not yet! A moment ago, his death would have been beautiful. Not now! Her grip of his arm tightened166. Only by breaking her wrist could he have freed himself. A moment ago, she had been in the seventh-heaven... Men were supposed to have died for love of her. It had never been proved. There had always been something—card-debts, ill-health, what not—to account for the tragedy. No man, to the best of her recollection, had ever hinted that he was going to die for her. Never, assuredly, had she seen the deed done. And then came he, the first man she had loved, going to die here, before her eyes, because she no longer loved him. But she knew now that he must not die—not yet!
All around her was the hush167 that falls on Oxford when the signal for the race has sounded. In the distance could be heard faintly the noise of cheering—a little sing-song sound, drawing nearer.
Ah, how could she have thought of letting him die so soon? She gazed into his face—the face she might never have seen again. Even now, but for that gun-shot, the waters would have closed over him, and his soul, maybe, have passed away. She had saved him, thank heaven! She had him still with her.
Gently, vainly, he still sought to unclasp her fingers from his arm.
“Not now!” she whispered. “Not yet!”
And the noise of the cheering, and of the trumpeting168 and rattling169, as it drew near, was an accompaniment to her joy in having saved her lover. She would keep him with her—for a while! Let all be done in order. She would savour the full sweetness of his sacrifice. Tomorrow—to-morrow, yes, let him have his heart’s desire of death. Not now! Not yet!
“To-morrow,” she whispered, “to-morrow, if you will. Not yet!”
The first boat came jerking past in mid-stream; and the towing-path, with its serried170 throng of runners, was like a live thing, keeping pace. As in a dream, Zuleika saw it. And the din7 was in her ears. No heroine of Wagner had ever a louder accompaniment than had ours to the surging soul within her bosom.
And the Duke, tightly held by her, vibrated as to a powerful electric current. He let her cling to him, and her magnetism171 range through him. Ah, it was good not to have died! Fool, he had meant to drain off-hand, at one coarse draught172, the delicate wine of death. He would let his lips caress173 the brim of the august goblet174. He would dally175 with the aroma176 that was there.
“So be it!” he cried into Zuleika’s ear—cried loudly, for it seemed as though all the Wagnerian orchestras of Europe, with the Straussian ones thrown in, were here to clash in unison177 the full volume of right music for the glory of the reprieve178.
The fact was that the Judas boat had just bumped Univ., exactly opposite the Judas barge. The oarsmen in either boat sat humped, panting, some of them rocking and writhing179, after their wholesome exercise. But there was not one of them whose eyes were not upcast at Zuleika. And the vocalisation and instrumentation of the dancers and stampers on the towing-path had by this time ceased to mean aught of joy in the victors or of comfort for the vanquished180, and had resolved itself into a wild wordless hymn181 to the glory of Miss Dobson. Behind her and all around her on the roof of the barge, young Judasians were venting182 in like manner their hearts through their lungs. She paid no heed183. It was as if she stood alone with her lover on some silent pinnacle184 of the world. It was as if she were a little girl with a brand-new and very expensive doll which had banished185 all the little other old toys from her mind.
She simply could not, in her naive186 rapture187, take her eyes off her companion. To the dancers and stampers of the towing-path, many of whom were now being ferried back across the river, and to the other youths on the roof of the barge, Zuleika’s air of absorption must have seemed a little strange. For already the news that the Duke loved Zuleika, and that she loved him not, and would stoop to no man who loved her, had spread like wild-fire among the undergraduates. The two youths in whom the Duke had deigned188 to confide189 had not held their peace. And the effect that Zuleika had made as she came down to the river was intensified190 by the knowledge that not the great paragon191 himself did she deem worthy149 of her. The mere sight of her had captured young Oxford. The news of her supernal192 haughtiness193 had riveted194 the chains.
“Come!” said the Duke at length, staring around him with the eyes of one awakened195 from a dream. “Come! I must take you back to Judas.”
“But you won’t leave me there?” pleaded Zuleika. “You will stay to dinner? I am sure my grandfather would be delighted.”
“I am sure he would,” said the Duke, as he piloted her down the steps of the barge. “But alas, I have to dine at the Junta196 to-night.”
“The Junta? What is that?”
“A little dining-club. It meets every Tuesday.”
“But—you don’t mean you are going to refuse me for that?”
“Then ask another: ask me!” Zuleika’s notions of Oxford life were rather hazy198. It was with difficulty that the Duke made her realise that he could not—not even if, as she suggested, she dressed herself up as a man—invite her to the Junta. She then fell back on the impossibility that he would not dine with her to-night, his last night in this world. She could not understand that admirable fidelity199 to social engagements which is one of the virtues200 implanted in the members of our aristocracy. Bohemian by training and by career, she construed201 the Duke’s refusal as either a cruel slight to herself or an act of imbecility. The thought of being parted from her for one moment was torture to him; but “noblesse oblige,” and it was quite impossible for him to break an engagement merely because a more charming one offered itself: he would as soon have cheated at cards.
And so, as they went side by side up the avenue, in the mellow202 light of the westering sun, preceded in their course, and pursued, and surrounded, by the mob of hoarse203 infatuate youths, Zuleika’s face was as that of a little girl sulking. Vainly the Duke reasoned with her. She could NOT see the point of view.
With that sudden softening204 that comes to the face of an angry woman who has hit on a good argument, she turned to him and asked “How if I hadn’t saved your life just now? Much you thought about your guest when you were going to dive and die!”
“I did not forget him,” answered the Duke, smiling at her casuistry. “Nor had I any scruple205 in disappointing him. Death cancels all engagements.”
And Zuleika, worsted, resumed her sulking. But presently, as they neared Judas, she relented. It was paltry206 to be cross with him who had resolved to die for her and was going to die so on the morrow. And after all, she would see him at the concert to-night. They would sit together. And all to-morrow they would be together, till the time came for parting. Hers was a naturally sunny disposition207. And the evening was such a lovely one, all bathed in gold. She was ashamed of her ill-humour.
“Forgive me,” she said, touching208 his arm. “Forgive me for being horrid.” And forgiven she promptly209 was. “And promise you will spend all to-morrow with me.” And of course he promised.
As they stood together on the steps of the Warden’s front-door, exalted210 above the level of the flushed and swaying crowd that filled the whole length and breadth of Judas Street, she implored211 him not to be late for the concert.
“I am never late,” he smiled.
“Ah, you’re so beautifully brought up!”
The door was opened.
“And—oh, you’re beautiful besides!” she whispered; and waved her hand to him as she vanished into the hall.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
stony
|
|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dispelled
|
|
| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
poignantly
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
consummate
|
|
| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
subdue
|
|
| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
exulting
|
|
| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
inculpate
|
|
| v.使负罪；控告；使连累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
penitence
|
|
| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
untold
|
|
| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
belittling
|
|
| 使显得微小，轻视，贬低( belittle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
deciduous
|
|
| adj.非永久的；短暂的；脱落的；落叶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
versed
|
|
| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
garrulous
|
|
| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lining
|
|
| n.衬里，衬料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
barge
|
|
| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
barges
|
|
| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
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： |
|
|
|
|
35
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
interspersed
|
|
| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
seething
|
|
| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
bruited
|
|
| v.传播（传说或谣言）( bruit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
worthiness
|
|
| 价值，值得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
cavil
|
|
| v.挑毛病，吹毛求疵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
juxtaposition
|
|
| n.毗邻，并置，并列 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
mien
|
|
| n.风采；态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
vista
|
|
| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
lust
|
|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
allied
|
|
| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
villas
|
|
| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
celibacy
|
|
| n.独身(主义) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
nemesis
|
|
| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
precludes
|
|
| v.阻止( preclude的第三人称单数 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
begetting
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的现在分词 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
pander
|
|
| v.迎合；n.拉皮条者，勾引者；帮人做坏事的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
dormant
|
|
| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
phantom
|
|
| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
amenable
|
|
| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
flaring
|
|
| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
conflagration
|
|
| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
asunder
|
|
| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
confluence
|
|
| n.汇合，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
seethed
|
|
| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
plank
|
|
| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
auspices
|
|
| n.资助，赞助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
awning
|
|
| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
irresistibly
|
|
| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
impetus
|
|
| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
frantic
|
|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
hurl
|
|
| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
hovering
|
|
| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
buffet
|
|
| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
parley
|
|
| n.谈判 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
persistence
|
|
| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
sipped
|
|
| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
jot
|
|
| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
fretting
|
|
| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
retrospect
|
|
| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
obsession
|
|
| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
blight
|
|
| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
corrodes
|
|
| v.使腐蚀，侵蚀( corrode的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
lamentably
|
|
| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
reigned
|
|
| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
glibly
|
|
| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
thronged
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
chattered
|
|
| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
coaxing
|
|
| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
chattering
|
|
| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
wholesome
|
|
| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
purge
|
|
| n.整肃，清除，泻药，净化；vt.净化，清除，摆脱；vi.清除，通便，腹泻，变得清洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
scorched
|
|
| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
sophistries
|
|
| n.诡辩术( sophistry的名词复数 )；（一次）诡辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
petulance
|
|
| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
awed
|
|
| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
avowal
|
|
| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
metaphor
|
|
| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
embarked
|
|
| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
hoary
|
|
| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
deferential
|
|
| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
darts
|
|
| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
gaping
|
|
| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
fumbling
|
|
| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
oars
|
|
| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
gaped
|
|
| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
rattles
|
|
| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
saviour
|
|
| n.拯救者，救星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
recoiling
|
|
| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
faltering
|
|
| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
ellipses
|
|
| n.椭园，省略号；椭圆( ellipse的名词复数 )；（语法结构上的）省略( ellipsis的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
ultimatum
|
|
| n.最后通牒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
dilation
|
|
| n.膨胀，扩张，扩大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
babbled
|
|
| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
curbed
|
|
| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
condemn
|
|
| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
entreaty
|
|
| n.恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
entreated
|
|
| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
cascade
|
|
| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
dissuasion
|
|
| n.劝止；谏言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
148
motif
|
|
| n.(图案的)基本花纹，(衣服的)花边；主题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
attainments
|
|
| 成就，造诣； 获得( attainment的名词复数 )； 达到； 造诣； 成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
steward
|
|
| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
stentorian
|
|
| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
eulogy
|
|
| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
revered
|
|
| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
immersion
|
|
| n.沉浸；专心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
infinity
|
|
| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
ledge
|
|
| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
hysterically
|
|
| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
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： |
|
|
|
|
164
levity
|
|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
tightened
|
|
| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
trumpeting
|
|
| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
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： |
|
|
|
|
170
serried
|
|
| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
magnetism
|
|
| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
caress
|
|
| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
goblet
|
|
| n.高脚酒杯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
dally
|
|
| v.荒废(时日)，调情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
aroma
|
|
| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
unison
|
|
| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
reprieve
|
|
| n.暂缓执行（死刑）；v.缓期执行；给…带来缓解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
writhing
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
vanquished
|
|
| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
hymn
|
|
| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
venting
|
|
| 消除； 泄去； 排去； 通风 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
pinnacle
|
|
| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
naive
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
rapture
|
|
| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
deigned
|
|
| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
intensified
|
|
| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
paragon
|
|
| n.模范，典型 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
supernal
|
|
| adj.天堂的，天上的；崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
haughtiness
|
|
| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
riveted
|
|
| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
junta
|
|
| n.团体；政务审议会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
hazy
|
|
| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
construed
|
|
| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的过去式和过去分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
mellow
|
|
| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
scruple
|
|
| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
paltry
|
|
| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
exalted
|
|
| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |