"Shall we go?" she repeated, and this time the note in her voice suggested command rather than question.
Why not? Whatever had happened to him, at whatever plane of existence he was now arrived, the machine apparently5 had followed him. Mechanically he started it up. The familiar whir of the engine brought back to him the possibility of his being alive in the ordinary acceptation of the term. It also suggested to him the practical advisability of insisting that Malvina should put on his spare coat. Malvina being five feet three, and the coat having been built for a man of six feet one, the effect under ordinary circumstances would have been comic. What finally convinced Commander Raffleton that Malvina really was a fairy was that, in that coat, with the collar standing6 up some six inches above her head, she looked more like one than ever.
Neither of them spoke7. Somehow it did not seem to be needed. He helped her to climb into her seat and tucked the coat about her feet. She answered by the same smile with which she had first stretched out her hand to him. It was just a smile of endless content, as if all her troubles were now over. Commander Raffleton sincerely hoped they were. A momentary8 flash of intelligence suggested to him that his were just beginning.
Commander Raffleton's subconscious9 self it must have been that took charge of the machine. He seems, keeping a few miles inland, to have followed the line of the coast to a little south of the Hague lighthouse. Thereabouts he remembers descending10 for the purpose of replenishing his tank. Not having anticipated a passenger, he had filled up before starting with a spare supply of petrol, an incident that was fortunate. Malvina appears to have been interested in watching what she probably regarded as some novel breed of dragon being nourished from tins extricated11 from under her feet, but to have accepted this, together with all other details of the flight, as in the natural scheme of things. The monster refreshed, tugged12, spurned13 the ground, and rose again with a roar; and the creeping sea rushed down.
One has the notion that for Flight Commander Raffleton, as for the rest of us, there lies in wait to test the heart of him the ugly and the commonplace. So large a portion of the years will be for him a business of mean hopes and fears, of sordid14 struggle, of low cares and vulgar fret15. But also one has the conviction that there will always remain with him, to make life wonderful, the memory of that night when, godlike, he rode upon the winds of heaven crowned with the glory of the world's desire. Now and again he turned his head to look at her, and still, as ever, her eyes answered him with that strange deep content that seemed to wrap them both around as with a garment of immortality16. One gathers dimly something of what he felt from the look that would unconsciously come into his eyes when speaking of that enchanted17 journey, from the sudden dumbness with which the commonplace words would die away upon his lips. Well for him that his lesser18 self kept firm hold upon the wheel or maybe a few broken spars, tossing upon the waves, would have been all that was left to tell of a promising young aviator19 who, on a summer night of June, had thought he could reach the stars.
Half-way across the dawn came flaming up over the Needles, and later there stole from east to west a long, low line of mist-enshrouded land. One by one headland and cliff, flashing with gold, rose out of the sea, and the white-winged gulls20 flew out to meet them. Almost he expected them to turn into spirits, circling round Malvina with cries of welcome.
Nearer and nearer they drew, while gradually the mist rose upward as the moonlight grew fainter. And all at once the sweep of the Chesil Bank stood out before them, with Weymouth sheltering behind it.
It may have been the bathing-machines, or the gasometer beyond the railway station, or the flag above the Royal Hotel. The curtains of the night fell suddenly away from him. The workaday world came knocking at the door.
He looked at his watch. It was a little after four. He had wired them at the camp to expect him in the morning. They would be looking out for him. By continuing his course he and Malvina could be there about breakfast-time. He could introduce her to the colonel: "Allow me, Colonel Goodyer, the fairy Malvina." It was either that or dropping Malvina somewhere between Weymouth and Farnborough. He decided21, without much consideration, that this latter course would be preferable. But where? What was he to do with her? There was Aunt Emily. Hadn't she said something about wanting a French governess for Georgina? True, Malvina's French was a trifle old-fashioned in form, but her accent was charming. And as for salary—- There presented itself the thought of Uncle Felix and the three elder boys. Instinctively22 he felt that Malvina would not be Aunt Emily's idea. His father, had the dear old gentleman been alive, would have been a safe refuge. They had always understood one another, he and his father. But his mother! He was not at all sure. He visualised the scene: the drawing-room at Chester Terrace. His mother's soft, rustling23 entrance. Her affectionate but well-bred greeting. And then the disconcerting silence with which she would await his explanation of Malvina. The fact that she was a fairy he would probably omit to mention. Faced by his mother's gold-rimmed pince-nez, he did not see himself insisting upon that detail: "A young lady I happened to find asleep on a moor24 in Brittany. And seeing it was a fine night, and there being just room in the machine. And she—I mean I—well, here we are." There would follow such a painful silence, and then the raising of the delicately arched eyebrows25: "You mean, my dear lad, that you have allowed this"—there would be a slight hesitation26 here—"this young person to leave her home, her people, her friends and relations in Brittany, in order to attach herself to you. May I ask in what capacity?"
For that was precisely27 how it would look, and not only to his mother. Suppose by a miracle it really represented the facts. Suppose that, in spite of the overwhelming evidence in her favour—of the night and the moon and the stars, and the feeling that had come to him from the moment he had kissed her—suppose that, in spite of all this, it turned out that she wasn't a fairy. Suppose that suggestion of vulgar Common Sense, that she was just a little minx that had run away from home, had really hit the mark. Suppose inquiries28 were already on foot. A hundred horse-power aeroplane does not go about unnoticed. Wasn't there a law about this sort of thing—something about "decoying" and "young girls"? He hadn't "decoyed" her. If anything, it was the other way about. But would her consent be a valid29 defence? How old was she? That would be the question. In reality he supposed about a thousand years or so. Possibly more. Unfortunately, she didn't look it. A coldly suspicious magistrate30 would probably consider sixteen a much better guess. Quite possibly he was going to get into a devil of a mess over this business. He cast a glance behind him. Malvina responded with her changeless smile of ineffable31 content. For the first time it caused him a distinct feeling of irritation32.
They were almost over Weymouth by this time. He could read plainly the advertisement posters outside the cinema theatre facing the esplanade: "Wilkins and the Mermaid33. Comic Drama." There was a picture of the lady combing her hair; also of Wilkins, a stoutish34 gentleman in striped bathing costume.
That mad impulse that had come to him with the first breath of dawn, to shake the dwindling35 world from his pinions36, to plunge37 upward towards the stars never to return—he wished to Heaven he had yielded to it.
And then suddenly there leapt to him the thought of Cousin Christopher.
Dear old Cousin Christopher, fifty-eight and a bachelor. Why had it not occurred to him before? Out of the sky there appeared to Commander Raffleton the vision of "Cousin Christopher" as a plump, rubicund38 angel in a panama hat and a pepper-and-salt tweed suit holding out a lifebelt. Cousin Christopher would take to Malvina as some motherly hen to an orphaned39 duckling. A fairy discovered asleep beside one of the ancient menhirs of Brittany. His only fear would be that you might want to take her away before he had written a paper about her. He would be down from Oxford40 at his cottage. Commander Raffleton could not for the moment remember the name of the village. It would come to him. It was northwest of Newbury. You crossed Salisbury Plain and made straight for Magdalen Tower. The Downs reached almost to the orchard41 gate. There was a level stretch of sward nearly half a mile long. It seemed to Commander Raffleton that Cousin Christopher had been created and carefully preserved by Providence42 for this particular job.
He was no longer the moonstruck youth of the previous night, on whom phantasy and imagination could play what pranks43 they chose. That part of him the keen, fresh morning air had driven back into its cell. He was Commander Raffleton, an eager and alert young engineer with all his wits about him. At this point that has to be remembered. Descending on a lonely reach of shore he proceeded to again disturb Malvina for the purpose of extracting tins. He expected his passenger would in broad daylight prove to be a pretty, childish-looking girl, somewhat dishevelled, with, maybe, a tinge44 of blue about the nose, the natural result of a three-hours' flight at fifty miles an hour. It was with a startling return of his original sensations when first she had come to life beneath his kiss that he halted a few feet away and stared at her. The night was gone, and the silence. She stood there facing the sunlight, clad in a Burberry overcoat half a dozen sizes too large for her. Beyond her was a row of bathing-machines, and beyond that again a gasometer. A goods train half a mile away was noisily shunting trucks.
And yet the glamour45 was about her still; something indescribable but quite palpable—something out of which she looked at you as from another world.
He took her proffered46 hand, and she leapt out lightly. She was not in the least dishevelled. It seemed as if the air must be her proper element. She looked about her, interested, but not curious. Her first thought was for the machine.
"Poor thing!" she said. "He must be tired."
That faint tremor47 of fear that had come to him when beneath the menhir's shadow he had watched the opening of her eyes, returned to him. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Rather it added a piquancy48 to their relationship. But it was distinctly real. She watched the feeding of the monster; and then he came again and stood beside her on the yellow sands.
"England!" he explained with a wave of his hand. One fancies she had the impression that it belonged to him. Graciously she repeated the name. And somehow, as it fell from her lips, it conjured49 up to Commander Raffleton a land of wonder and romance.
"I have heard of it," she added. "I think I shall like it."
He answered that he hoped she would. He was deadly serious about it. He possessed50, generally speaking, a sense of humour; but for the moment this must have deserted51 him. He told her he was going to leave her in the care of a wise and learned man called "Cousin Christopher"; his description no doubt suggesting to Malvina a friendly magician. He himself would have to go away for a little while, but would return.
It did not seem to matter to Malvina, these minor52 details. It was evident—the idea in her mind—that he had been appointed to her. Whether as master or servant it was less easy to conjecture53: probably a mixture of both, with preference towards the latter.
He mentioned again that he would not be away for longer than he could help. There was no necessity for this repetition. She wasn't doubting it.
Weymouth with its bathing machines and its gasometer faded away. King Rufus was out a-hunting as they passed over the New Forest, and from Salisbury Plain, as they looked down, the pixies waved their hands and laughed. Later, they heard the clang of the anvil54, telling them they were in the neighbourhood of Wayland Smith's cave; and so planed down sweetly and without a jar just beyond Cousin Christopher's orchard gate.
A shepherd's boy was whistling somewhere upon the Downs, and in the valley a ploughman had just harnessed his team; but the village was hidden from them by the sweep of the hills, and no other being was in sight. He helped Malvina out, and leaving her seated on a fallen branch beneath a walnut55 tree, proceeded cautiously towards the house. He found a little maid in the garden. She had run out of the house on hearing the sound of his propeller56 and was staring up into the sky, so that she never saw him until he put his hand upon her shoulder, and then was fortunately too frightened to scream. He gave her hasty instructions. She was to knock at the Professor's door and tell him that his cousin, Commander Raffleton, was there, and would he come down at once, by himself, into the orchard. Commander Raffleton would rather not come in. Would the Professor come down at once and speak to Commander Raffleton in the orchard.
She went back into the house, repeating it all to herself, a little scared.
"Good God!" said Cousin Christopher from beneath the bedclothes. "He isn't hurt, is he?"
The little maid, through the jar of the door, thought not. Anyhow, he didn't look it. But would the Professor kindly57 come at once? Commander Raffleton was waiting for him—in the orchard.
So Cousin Christopher, in bedroom slippers58, without socks, wearing a mustard-coloured dressing-gown and a black skull59 cap upon his head—the very picture of a friendly magician—trotted hastily downstairs and through the garden, talking to himself about "foolhardy boys" and "knowing it would happen"; and was much relieved to meet young Arthur Raffleton coming towards him, evidently sound in wind and limb. And then began to wonder why the devil he had been frightened out of bed at six o'clock in the morning if nothing was the matter.
But something clearly was. Before speaking Arthur Raffleton looked carefully about him in a manner suggestive of mystery, if not of crime; and still without a word, taking Cousin Christopher by the arm, led the way to the farther end of the orchard. And there, on a fallen branch beneath the walnut tree, Cousin Christopher saw apparently a khaki coat, with nothing in it, which, as they approached it, rose up.
But it did not rise very high. The back of the coat was towards them. Its collar stood out against the sky line. But there wasn't any head. Standing upright, it turned round, and peeping out of its folds Cousin Christopher saw a child's face. And then looking closer saw that it wasn't a child. And then wasn't quite sure what it was; so that coming to a sudden halt in front of it, Cousin Christopher stared at it with round wide eyes, and then at Flight Commander Raffleton.
It was to Malvina that Flight Commander Raffleton addressed himself.
"This," he said, "is Professor Littlecherry, my Cousin Christopher, about whom I told you."
It was obvious that Malvina regarded the Professor as a person of importance. Evidently her intention was to curtsy, an operation that, hampered60 by those trailing yards of clinging khaki, might prove—so it flashed upon the Professor—not only difficult but dangerous.
"Allow me," said the Professor.
His idea was to help Malvina out of Commander Raffleton's coat, and Malvina was preparing to assist him. Commander Raffleton was only just in time.
"I don't think," said Commander Raffleton. "If you don't mind I think we'd better leave that for Mrs. Muldoon."
The Professor let go the coat. Malvina appeared a shade disappointed. One opines that not unreasonably61 she may have thought to make a better impression without it. But a smiling acquiescence62 in all arrangements made for her welfare seems to have been one of her charms.
"Perhaps," suggested Commander Raffleton to Malvina while refastening a few of the more important buttons, "if you wouldn't mind explaining yourself to my Cousin Christopher just exactly who and what you are—you'd do it so much better than I should." (What Commander Raffleton was saying to himself was: "If I tell the dear old Johnny, he'll think I'm pulling his leg. It will sound altogether different the way she will put it.") "You're sure you don't mind?"
Malvina hadn't the slightest objection. She accomplished63 her curtsy—or rather it looked as if the coat were curtsying—quite gracefully64, and with a dignity one would not have expected from it.
"I am the fairy Malvina," she explained to the Professor. "You may have heard of me. I was the favourite of Harbundia, Queen of the White Ladies of Brittany. But that was long ago."
The friendly magician was staring at her with a pair of round eyes that in spite of their amazement65 looked kindly and understanding. They probably encouraged Malvina to complete the confession66 of her sad brief history.
"It was when King Heremon ruled over Ireland," she continued. "I did a very foolish and a wicked thing, and was punished for it by being cast out from the companionship of my fellows. Since then"—the coat made the slightest of pathetic gestures—"I have wandered alone."
It ought to have sounded so ridiculous to them both; told on English soil in the year One Thousand Nine Hundred and Fourteen to a smart young officer of Engineers and an elderly Oxford Professor. Across the road the doctor's odd man was opening garage doors; a noisy milk cart was clattering67 through the village a little late for the London train; a faint odour of eggs and bacon came wafted68 through the garden, mingled69 with the scent1 of lavender and pinks. For Commander Raffleton, maybe, there was excuse. This story, so far as it has gone, has tried to make that clear. But the Professor! He ought to have exploded in a burst of Homeric laughter, or else to have shaken his head at her and warned her where little girls go to who do this sort of thing.
Instead of which he stared from Commander Raffleton to Malvina, and from Malvina back to Commander Raffleton with eyes so astonishingly round that they might have been drawn70 with a compass.
"God bless my soul!" said the Professor. "But this is most extraordinary!"
"Was there a King Heremon of Ireland?" asked Commander Raffleton. The Professor was a well-known authority on these matters.
"Of course there was a King Heremon of Ireland," answered the Professor quite petulantly—as if the Commander had wanted to know if there had ever been a Julius Caesar or a Napoleon. "And so there was a Queen Harbundia. Malvina is always spoken of in connection with her."
"What did she do?" inquired Commander Raffleton. They both of them seemed to be oblivious71 of Malvina's presence.
"I forget for the moment," confessed the professor. "I must look it up. Something, if I remember rightly, in connection with the daughter of King Dancrat. He founded the Norman dynasty. William the Conqueror72 and all that lot. Good Lord!"
"Would you mind her staying with you for a time until I can make arrangements," suggested Commander Raffleton. "I'd be awfully73 obliged if you would."
What the Professor's answer might have been had he been allowed to exercise such stock of wits as he possessed, it is impossible to say. Of course he was interested—excited, if you will. Folklore74, legend, tradition; these had been his lifelong hobbies. Apart from anything else, here at least was a kindred spirit. Seemed to know a thing or two. Where had she learned it? Might not there be sources unknown to the Professor?
But to take her in! To establish her in the only spare bedroom. To introduce her—as what? to English village society. To the new people at the Manor75 House. To the member of Parliament with his innocent young wife who had taken the vicarage for the summer. To Dawson, R.A., and the Calthorpes!
He might, had he thought it worth his while, have found some respectable French family and boarded her out. There was a man he had known for years at Oxford, a cabinetmaker; the wife a most worthy76 woman. He could have gone over there from time to time, his notebook in his pocket, and have interviewed her.
Left to himself, he might have behaved as a sane77 and rational citizen; or he might not. There are records favouring the latter possibility. The thing is not certain. But as regards this particular incident in his career he must be held exonerated78. The decision was taken out of his hands.
To Malvina, on first landing in England, Commander Raffleton had stated his intention of leaving her temporarily in the care of the wise and learned Christopher. To Malvina, regarding the Commander as a gift from the gods, that had settled the matter. The wise and learned Christopher, of course, knew of this coming. In all probability it was he—under the guidance of the gods—who had arranged the whole sequence of events. There remained only to tender him her gratitude79. She did not wait for the Professor's reply. The coat a little hindered her but, on the other hand, added perhaps an appealing touch of its own. Taking the wise and learned Christopher's hand in both her own, she knelt and kissed it.
And in that quaint80 archaic81 French of hers, that long study of the Chronicles of Froissart enabled the Professor to understand:
"I thank you," she said, "for your noble courtesy and hospitality."
In some mysterious way the whole affair had suddenly become imbued82 with the dignity of an historical event. The Professor had the sudden impression—and indeed it never altogether left him so long as Malvina remained—that he was a great and powerful personage. A sister potentate83; incidentally—though, of course, in high politics such points are immaterial—the most bewilderingly beautiful being he had ever seen; had graciously consented to become his guest. The Professor, with a bow that might have been acquired at the court of King Rene, expressed his sense of the honour done to him. What else could a self-respecting potentate do? The incident was closed.
Flight Commander Raffleton seems to have done nothing in the direction of re-opening it. On the contrary, he appears to have used this precise moment for explaining to the Professor how absolutely necessary it was that he should depart for Farnborough without another moment's loss of time. Commander Raffleton added that he would "look them both up again" the first afternoon he could get away; and was sure that if the Professor would get Malvina to speak slowly, he would soon find her French easy to understand.
It did occur to the Professor to ask Commander Raffleton where he had found Malvina—that is, if he remembered. Also what he was going to do about her—that is, if he happened to know. Commander Raffleton, regretting his great need of haste, explained that he had found Malvina asleep beside a menhir not far from Huelgoat, in Brittany, and was afraid that he had woke her up. For further particulars, would the Professor kindly apply to Malvina? For himself, he would never, he felt sure, be able to thank the professor sufficiently84.
In conclusion, and without giving further opportunity for discussion, the Commander seems to have shaken his Cousin Christopher by the hand with much enthusiasm; and then to have turned to Malvina. She did not move, but her eyes were fixed85 on him. And he came to her slowly. And without a word he kissed her full upon the lips.
"That is twice you have kissed me," said Malvina—and a curious little smile played round her mouth. "The third time I shall become a woman."
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1
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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circumscribed
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| adj.[医]局限的：受限制或限于有限空间的v.在…周围划线( circumscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；划定…范围；限制；限定 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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4
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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5
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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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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7
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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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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descending
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extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spurned
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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aviator
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| n.飞行家，飞行员 | |
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gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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instinctively
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rustling
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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eyebrows
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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mermaid
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| n.美人鱼 | |
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stoutish
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| 略胖的 | |
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dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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rubicund
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| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
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orphaned
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| [计][修]孤立 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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piquancy
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| n.辛辣，辣味，痛快 | |
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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unreasonably
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| adv. 不合理地 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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folklore
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| n.民间信仰，民间传说，民俗 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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exonerated
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| v.使免罪，免除( exonerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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potentate
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| n.统治者；君主 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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