And yet I trembled. My secret seemed to be safely planted, but what would the harvest be? I knew I should watch those upper windows with hypnotic zeal4, and listen with straining ears for the inevitable5 squall of a child or the bark of a dog. My brain ran riot with incipient6 subterfuges7, excuses, apologies and lies with which my position was to be sustained.
There would not be a minute during the week to come when I would be perfectly8 free to call my soul my own, and as for nerves! well, with good luck they might endure the strain. Popping up in bed out of a sound sleep at the slightest disturbance9, with ears wide open and nerves tingling10, was to be a nightly occupation at uncertain intervals11; that was plain to be seen. All day long I would be shivering with anxiety and praying for night to come so that I might lie awake and pray for the sun to rise, and in this way pass the time as quickly as possible. There would be difficulty in getting my visitors to bed early, another thing to test my power at conniving12. They were bridge players, of course, and as such would be up till all hours of the morning overdoing13 themselves in the effort to read each other's thoughts.
I thanked the Lord that my electric lighting14 system would not be installed until after they had departed. Ordinarily the Lord isn't thanked when an electric light company fails to perform its work on schedule time, but in this case delay was courted.
We were all somewhat surprised and not a little disorganised by the appearance of four unexpected servants in the train of my party. We hadn't counted on anything quite so elaborate. There were two lady's maids, not on friendly terms with each other; a French valet who had the air of one used to being served on a tray outside the servants' quarters; and a German attendant with hands constructed especially for the purpose of kneading and gouging15 the innermost muscles of his master, who it appears had to be kneaded and gouged16 three times a day by a masseur in order to stave off paralysis17, locomotor ataxia or something equally unwelcome to a high liver.
We had ample room for all this physical increase, but no beds. I transferred the problem to Poopendyke. How he solved it I do not know, but from the woe-be-gone expression on his face the morning after the first night, and the fact that Britton was unnecessarily rough in shaving me, I gathered that the two of them had slept on a pile of rugs in the lower hall.
Elsie Hazzard presented me to her friends and, with lordly generosity18, I presented the castle to them. Her husband, Dr. George, thanked me for saving all their lives and then, feeling a draft, turned up his coat collar and informed me that we'd all die if I didn't have the cracks stopped up. He seemed unnecessarily testy19 about it.
There was a Russian baron20 (the man who had to be kneaded) the last syllable21 of whose name was vitch, the first five evading22 me in a perpetual chase up and down the alphabet. For brevity's sake, I'll call him Umovitch. The French valet's master was a Viennese gentleman of twenty-six or eight (I heard), but who looked forty. I found myself wondering how dear, puritanic, little Elsie Hazzard could have fallen in with two such unamiable wrecks23 as these fellows appeared to be at first sight.
The Austrian's name was Pless. He was a plain mister. The more I saw of him the first afternoon the more I wondered at George Hazzard's carelessness. Then there were two very bright and charming Americans, the Billy Smiths. He was connected with the American Embassy at Vienna, and I liked him from the start. You could tell that he was the sort of a chap who is bound to get on in the world by simply looking at his wife. The man who could win the love and support of such an attractive creature must of necessity have qualifications to spare. She was very beautiful and very clever. Somehow the unforgetable resplendency of my erstwhile typist (who married the jeweller's clerk) faded into a pale, ineffective drab when opposed to the charms of Mrs. Betty Billy Smith. (They all called her Betty Billy.)
After luncheon24 I got Elsie off in a corner and plied25 her with questions concerning her friends. The Billy Smiths were easily accounted for. They belonged to the most exclusive set in New York and Newport. He had an incomprehensible lot of money and a taste for the diplomatic service. Some day he would be an Ambassador. The Baron was in the Russian Embassy and was really a very nice boy.
"Boy?" I exclaimed.
"He is not more than thirty," said she. "You wouldn't call that old." There was nothing I could say to that and still be a perfect host. But to you I declare that he wasn't a day under fifty. How blind women can be! Or is silly the word?
From where we sat the figure of Mr. Pless was plainly visible in the loggia. He was alone, leaning against the low wall and looking down upon the river. He puffed27 idly at a cigarette. His coal black hair grew very sleek28 on his smallish head and his shoulders were rather high, as if pinched upward by a tendency to defy a weak spine29.
"And this Mr. Pless, who is he?"
Elsie was looking at the rakish young man with a pitying expression in her tender blue eyes.
"Poor fellow," she sighed. "He is in great trouble, John. We hoped that if we got him off here where it is quiet he might be able to forget—Oh, but I am not supposed to tell you a word of the story! We are all sworn to secrecy30. It was only on that condition that he consented to come with us."
"Indeed!"
She hesitated, uncomfortably placed between two duties. She owed one to him and one to me.
"It is only fair, John, that you should know that Pless is not his real name," she said, lowering her voice. "But, of course, we stand sponsor for him, so it is all right."
"Your word is sufficient, Elsie."
She seemed to be debating some inward question. The next I knew she moved a little closer to me.
"His life is a—a tragedy," she whispered. "His heart is broken, I firmly believe. Oh!"
The Billy Smiths came up. Elsie proceeded to withdraw into herself.
"We were speaking of Mr. Pless," said I. "He has a broken heart."
The newcomers looked hard at poor Elsie.
"Broken fiddle-sticks," said Billy Smith, nudging Elsie until she made room for him beside her on the long couch. I promptly31 made room for Betty Billy.
"We ought to tell John just a little about him," said Elsie defensively. "It is due him, Billy."
"But don't tell him the fellow's heart is broken. That's rot."
"It isn't rot," said his wife. "Wouldn't your heart be broken?"
He crossed his legs comfortably.
"Wouldn't it?" repeated Betty Billy.
"What happened to it?" I inquired, mildly interested.
"Women," said Billy impressively.
"Then it's easily patched," said I. "Like cures like."
"You don't understand, John," said Elsie gravely. "He was married to a beautiful—"
"Now, Elsie, you're telling," cautioned Betty Billy.
"Well," said Elsie doggedly33, "I'm determined34 to tell this much: his name isn't Pless, his wife got a divorce from him, and now she has taken their child and run off with it and they can't find—what's the matter?"
My eyes were almost popping from my head.
"Is—is he a count?" I cried, so loudly that they all said "sh!" and shot apprehensive35 glances toward the pseudo Mr. Pless.
"Goodness!" said Elsie in alarm. "Don't shout, John."
Billy Smith regarded me speculatively36. "I dare say Mr. Smart has read all about the affair in the newspapers. They've had nothing else lately. I won't say he is a count, and I won't say he isn't. We're bound by a deep, dark, sinister37 oath, sealed with blood."
"I haven't seen anything about it in the papers," said I, trying to recover my self-possession which had sustained a most tremendous shock.
"Do you mean to say you won't tell me his name?" I demanded.
Elsie eyed me suspiciously. "Why did you ask if he is a count?"
"I have a vague recollection of hearing some one speak of a count having trouble with his young American wife, divorce, or something of the sort. A very prominent New York girl, if I'm not mistaken. All very hazy39, however. What is his name?"
"John," said Mrs. Hazzard firmly, "you must not ask us to tell you. Won't you please understand?"
"The poor fellow is almost distracted. Really, Mr. Smart, we planned this little visit here simply in order to—to take him out of himself for a while. It has been such a tragedy for him. He worshipped the child." It was Mrs. Billy who spoke40.
"It is a girl," said Elsie in a loud whisper. "The loveliest girl. The mother appeared in Vienna about three weeks or a month ago and—whiff! Off goes the child. Abducted—kidnapped! And the court had granted him the custody42 of the child. That's what makes it so terrible. If she is caught anywhere in Europe—well, I don't know what may happen to her. It is just such silly acts as this that make American girls the laughing stocks of the whole world. I give you my word I am almost ashamed to have people point me out and say: 'There goes an American. Pooh!'"
By this time I had myself pretty well in hand.
"I daresay the mother loved the child, which ought to condone43 one among her multitude of sins. I take it, of course, that she was entirely44 to blame for everything that happened."
They at once proceeded to tear the poor little mother to shreds45, delicately and with finesse46, to be sure, but none the less completely. No doubt they meant to be charitable.
"This is what a silly American nobody gets for trying to be somebody over here just because her father has a trunkful of millions," said Elsie, concluding a rather peevish47 estimate of the conjugal48 effrontery49 laid at the door of Mr. Pless's late wife.
"Or just because one of these spendthrift foreigners has a title for sale," said Billy Smith sarcastically50.
"He was deeply in love with her when they were married," said his wife. "I don't believe it was his fault that they didn't get along well together."
"The truth of the matter is," said Elsie with finality, "she couldn't live up to her estate. She was a drag, a stone about his neck. It was like putting one's waitress at the head of the table and expecting her to make good as a hostess."
"Oh, good enough," said Betty Billy. "She was in the smartest set, if that is a recommendation."
"Then you admit, both of you, that the best of our American girls fall short of being all that is required over here. In other words, they can't hold a candle to the Europeans."
"Not at all," they both said in a flash.
"That's the way it sounds to me."
Elsie seemed repentant53. "I suppose we are a little hard on the poor thing. She was very young, you see."
"No, not just precisely55 that," admitted Betty Billy Smith. "She made a bid for him and got him, and my contention56 is that she should have lived up to the bargain."
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't he get his money?"
"I am sure I don't see what money has to do with the case," said Elsie, with dignity. "Mr. Pless is a poor man I've heard. There could not have been very much of a marriage settlement."
"A mere58 million to start with," remarked Billy Smith ironically. "It's all gone, my dear Elsie, and I gather that father-in-law locked the trunk you speak of and hid the key. You don't know women as well as I do, Mr. Smart. Both of these charming ladies professed59 to adore Mr. Pless's wife up to the time the trial for divorce came up. Now they've got their hammers and hat-pins out for her and—"
"That isn't true, Billy Smith," cried Elsie in a fierce whisper. "We stood by her until she disobeyed the mandate—or whatever you call it—of the court. She did steal the child, and you can't deny it."
"Poor little kiddie," said he, and from his tone I gathered that all was not rosy60 in the life of the infant in this game of battledore and shuttlecock.
To my disgust, the three of them refused to enlighten me further as to the history, identity or character of either Mr. or Mrs. Pless, but of course I knew that I was entertaining under my roof, by the most extraordinary coincidence, the Count and Countess of Something-or-other, who were at war, and the child they were fighting for with motives61 of an entirely opposite nature.
Right or wrong, my sympathies were with the refugee in the lonely east wing. I was all the more determined now to shield her as far as it lay in my power to do so, and to defend her if the worst were to happen.
Mr. Pless tossed his cigarette over the railing and sauntered over to join us.
"I suppose you've been discussing the view," he said as he came up. There was a mean smile on his—yes, it was a rather handsome face—and the two ladies started guiltily. The attack on his part was particularly direct when one stops to consider that there wasn't any view to be had from where we were sitting, unless one could call a three-decked plasterer's scaffolding a view.
"We've been discussing the recent improvements about the castle, Mr. Pless," said I with so much directness that I felt Mrs. Billy Smith's arm stiffen62 and suspected a general tension of nerves from head to foot.
"You shouldn't spoil the place, Mr. Smart," said he, with a careless glance about him.
"What time do we dine?" asked Mr. Pless, with a suppressed yawn.
"At eight," said Elsie promptly.
We were in the habit of dining at seven-thirty, but I was growing accustomed to the over-riding process, so allowed my dinner hour to be changed without a word.
"I think I'll take a nap," said he. With a languid smile and a little flaunt64 of his hand as if dismissing us, he moved languidly off, but stopped after a few steps to say to me: "We'll explore the castle to-morrow, Mr. Smart, if it's just the same to you." He spoke with a very slight accent and in a peculiarly attractive manner. There was charm to the man, I was bound to admit. "I know Schloss Rothhoefen very well. It is an old stamping ground of mine."
"Indeed," said I, affecting surprise.
When he was quite out of hearing, Billy Smith leaned over and said to me: "He spent his honeymoon67 here, old man. It was the girls' idea to bring him here to assuage68 the present with memories of the past. Quite a pretty sentiment, eh?"
"It depends on how he spent it," I said significantly. Smith grinned approvingly. Being a diplomat26 he sensed my meaning at once.
"It was a lot of money," he said.
At dinner the Russian baron, who examined every particle of food he ate with great care and discrimination, evidently looking for poison, embarrassed me in the usual fashion by asking how I write my books, where I get my plots, and all the rest of the questions that have become so hatefully unanswerable, ending up by blandly69 enquiring70 what I had written. This was made especially humiliating by the prefatory remark that he had lived in Washington for five years and had read everything that was worth reading.
If Elsie had been a man I should have kicked her for further confounding me by mentioning the titles of all my books and saying that he surely must have read them, as everybody did, thereby71 supplying him with the chance to triumphantly72 say that he'd be hanged if he'd ever heard of any one of them. I shall always console myself with the joyful73 thought that I couldn't remember his infernal name and would now make it a point never to do so.
Mr. Pless openly made love to Elsie and the Baron openly made love to Betty Billy. Being a sort of noncommittal bachelor, I ranged myself with the two abandoned husbands and we had quite a reckless time of it, talking with uninterrupted devilishness about the growth of American dentistry in European capitals, the way one has his nails manicured in Germany, the upset price of hot-house strawberries, the relative merit of French and English bulls, the continued progress of the weather and sundry74 other topics of similar piquancy75. Elsie invited all of us to a welsh rarebit party she was giving at eleven-thirty, and then they got to work at the bridge table, poor George Hazzard cutting in occasionally. This left Billy Smith and me free to make up a somewhat somnolent76 two-some.
I was eager to steal away to the east wing with the news, but how to dispose of Billy without appearing rude was more than I could work out. It was absolutely necessary for the Countess to know that her ex-husband was in the castle. I would have to manage in some way to see her before the evening was over. The least carelessness, the smallest slip might prove the undoing77 of both of us.
I wondered how she would take the dismal78 news. Would she become hysterical79 and go all to pieces? Would the prospect80 of a week of propinquity be too much for her, even though thick walls intervened to put them into separate worlds? Or, worst of all, would she reveal an uncomfortable spirit of bravado81, rashly casting discretion82 to the winds in order to show him that she was not the timid, beaten coward he might suspect her of being? She had once said to me that she loathed83 a coward. I have always wondered how it felt to be in a "pretty kettle of fish," or a "pickle," or any of the synonymous predicaments. Now I knew. Nothing could have been more synchronous84 than the plural85 howdy-do that confronted me.
My nervousness must have been outrageously86 pronounced. Pacing the floor, looking at one's watch, sighing profoundly, putting one's hands in the pockets and taking them out again almost immediately, letting questions go by unanswered, and all such, are actions or conditions that usually produce the impression that one is nervous. A discerning observer seldom fails to note the symptoms.
Mr. Smith said to me at nine-sixteen (I know it was exactly nine-sixteen to the second) with polite conviction in his smile: "You seem to have something on your mind, old chap."
Now no one but a true diplomat recognises the psychological moment for calling an almost total stranger "old chap."
"I have, old fellow," said I, immensely relieved by his perspicuity87. "I ought to get off five or six very important letters to—"
He interrupted me with a genial88 wave of his hand. "Run along and get 'em off," he said. "Don't mind me. I'll look over the magazines."
Ten minutes later I was sneaking89 up the interminable stairways in the sepulchral90 east wing, lighting and relighting a tallow candle with grim patience at every other landing and luridly91 berating92 the drafts that swept the passages. Mr. Poopendyke stood guard below at the padlocked doors, holding the keys. He was to await my signal to reopen them, but he was not to release me under any circumstance if snoopers were abroad.
My secretary was vastly disturbed by the news I imparted. He was so startled that he forgot to tell me that he wouldn't spend another night on a pile of rugs with Britton as a bed-fellow, an omission93 which gave Britton the opportunity to anticipate him by almost giving notice that very night. (The upshot of it was the hasty acquisition of two brand new iron beds the next day, and the restoration of peace in my domestic realm.)
Somewhat timorously94 I knocked at the Countess's door. I realised that it was a most unseemly hour for calling on a young, beautiful and unprotected lady, but the exigencies95 of the moment lent moral support to my invasion.
After waiting five minutes and then knocking again so loudly that the sound reverberated96 through the empty halls with a sickening clatter97, I heard some one fumbling98 with the bolts. The door opened an inch OF two.
The Countess's French maid peered out at me.
"Tell your mistress that I must see her at once."
"Madame is not at home, m'sieur," said the young woman.
"Madame has gone to bed."
"Oh," I said, blinking. "Then she is at home. Present my compliments and ask her to get up. Something very exasperating100 has hap—"
"Madame has request me to inform m'sieur that she knows the Count is here, and will you be so good as to call to-morrow morning."
"What! She knows he's here? Who brought the information?"
"The bountiful Max, m'sieur. He bring it with dejeuner, again with diner, and but now with the hot water, m'sieur."
"Oh, I see," said I profoundly. "In that case, I—I sha'n't disturb her. How—er—how did she take it?"
"She took it as usual, m'sieur. In that dreadful little tin tub old Conrad—"
"Good heavens, girl! I mean the news—the news about the Count."
"Mon dieu! I thought m'sieur refer to—But yes! She take it beautifully. I too mean the news. Madame is not afraid. Has she not the good, brave m'sieur to—what you call it—to shoulder all the worry, no? She is not alarm. She reads m'sieur's latest book in bed, smoke the cigarette, and she say what the divil do she care."
"What!"
"Non, non! I, Helene Marie Louise Antoinette, say it for Madame. Pardon! Pardon, m'sieur! It is I who am wicked."
Very stiffly and ceremoniously I advised caution for the next twelve hours, and saying good night to Helene Marie Louise Antoinette in an unintentionally complimentary102 whisper, took myself off down the stairs, pursued by an equally subdued103 bon soir which made me feel like a soft-stepping Lothario.
Now it may occur to you that any self-respecting gentleman in possession of a castle and a grain of common sense would have set about to find out the true names of the guests beneath his roof. The task would have been a simple one, there is no doubt of that. A peremptory104 command with a rigid105 alternative would have brought out the truth in a jiffy.
But it so happens that I rather enjoyed the mystery. The situation was unique, the comedy most exhilarating. Of course, there was a tragic106 side to the whole matter, but now that I was in for it, why minimise the novelty by adopting arbitrary measures? Three minutes of stern conversation with Elsie Hazzard would enlighten me on all the essential points; perhaps half an hour would bring Poopendyke to terms; a half a day might be required in the brow-beating of the frail107 Countess. With the Schmicks, there was no hope. But why not allow myself the pleasure of enjoying the romantic feast that had been set before me by the gods of chance? Chance ordered the tangle108; let chance unravel109 it. Somewhat gleefully I decided110 that it would be good fun to keep myself in the dark as long as possible!
"Mr. Poopendyke," said I, after that nervous factotum111 had let me into my side of the castle with gratifying stealthiness, "you will oblige me by not mentioning that fair lady's name in my presence."
"You did not stay very long, sir," said he in a sad whisper, and for the life of me I couldn't determine what construction to put upon the singularly unresponsive remark.
When I reached the room where my guests were assembled, I found Mr. Pless and the Baron Umovitch engaged in an acrimonious112 dispute over a question of bridge etiquette113. The former had resented a sharp criticism coming from the latter, and they were waging a verbal battle in what I took to be five or six different tongues, none of which appeared to bear the slightest relationship to the English language. Suddenly Mr. Pless threw his cards down and left the table, without a word of apology to the two ladies, who looked more hurt than appalled114.
He said he was going to bed, but I noticed that he took himself off in the direction of the moonlit loggia. We were still discussing his defection in subdued tones—with the exception of the irate115 baron—when he re-entered the room. The expression on his face was mocking, even accusing. Directing his words to me, he uttered a lazy indictment116.
"Are there real spirits in your castle, Mr. Smart, or have you flesh and blood mediums here who roam about in white night dresses to study the moods of the moon from the dizziest ramparts?"
I started. What indiscretion had the Countess been up to?
"I don't quite understand you, Mr. Pless," I said, with a politely blank stare.
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picketed
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| 用尖桩围住（picket的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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deployed
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的过去式和过去分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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vassals
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| n.奴仆( vassal的名词复数 )；（封建时代）诸侯；从属者；下属 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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subterfuges
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| n.（用说谎或欺骗以逃脱责备、困难等的）花招，遁词( subterfuge的名词复数 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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conniving
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| v.密谋 ( connive的现在分词 )；搞阴谋；默许；纵容 | |
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overdoing
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| v.做得过分( overdo的现在分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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gouging
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| n.刨削[槽]v.凿( gouge的现在分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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gouged
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| v.凿( gouge的过去式和过去分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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testy
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| adj.易怒的；暴躁的 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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evading
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| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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31
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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32
porous
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| adj.可渗透的，多孔的 | |
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33
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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34
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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35
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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36
speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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37
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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38
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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39
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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40
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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41
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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42
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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43
condone
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| v.宽恕；原谅 | |
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44
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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45
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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46
finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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47
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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48
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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49
effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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50
sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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51
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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52
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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53
repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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54
coterie
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| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
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55
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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56
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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57
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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58
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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59
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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60
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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61
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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62
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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63
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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64
flaunt
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| vt.夸耀，夸饰 | |
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65
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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66
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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67
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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68
assuage
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| v.缓和，减轻，镇定 | |
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69
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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70
enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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71
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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72
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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73
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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74
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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75
piquancy
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| n.辛辣，辣味，痛快 | |
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76
somnolent
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| adj.想睡的，催眠的；adv.瞌睡地；昏昏欲睡地；使人瞌睡地 | |
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77
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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78
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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79
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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80
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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81
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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82
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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83
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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84
synchronous
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| adj.同步的 | |
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85
plural
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| n.复数；复数形式；adj.复数的 | |
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86
outrageously
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| 凶残地； 肆无忌惮地； 令人不能容忍地； 不寻常地 | |
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87
perspicuity
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| n.（文体的）明晰 | |
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88
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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89
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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90
sepulchral
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| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
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91
luridly
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| adv. 青灰色的(苍白的, 深浓色的, 火焰等火红的) | |
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92
berating
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| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的现在分词 ) | |
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93
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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94
timorously
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| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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95
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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96
reverberated
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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97
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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98
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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99
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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100
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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101
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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102
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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103
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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104
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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105
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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106
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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107
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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108
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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109
unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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110
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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111
factotum
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| n.杂役；听差 | |
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112
acrimonious
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| adj.严厉的，辛辣的，刻毒的 | |
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113
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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114
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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115
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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116
indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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117
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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118
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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