O'Reilly looked, then turned his eyes away. He and Jacket had reached the heart of Matanzas and were facing the public square, the Plaza4 de la Libertad it was called. O'Reilly knew the place well; every building that flanked it was familiar to him, from the vast, rambling5 Governor's Palace to the ornate Casino Espanol and the Grand Hotel, and time was when he had been a welcome visitor at all of them. But things were different now. Gone were the customary crowds of well-dressed, well-fed citizens; gone the rows of carriages which at this hour of the day were wont6 to circle the Plaza laden7 with the aristocracy of the city; gone was that air of cheerfulness and substance which had lent distinction to the place. Matanzas appeared poor and squalid, depressingly wretched; its streets were foul8 and the Plaza de la Libertad—grim mockery of a name—was crowded with a throng9 such as it had never held in O'Reilly's time, a throng of people who were, without exception, gaunt, listless, ragged10. There was no afternoon parade of finery, no laughter, no noise; the benches were full, but their occupants were silent, too sick or too weak to move. Nor were there any romping11 children. There were, to be sure, vast numbers of undersized figures in the square, but one needed to look twice to realize that they were not pygmies or wizened12 little old folks. It was not strange that Jacket had compared them to gourds with legs, for all were naked, and most of them had bodies swollen13 into the likeness14 of pods or calabashes. They looked peculiarly grotesque15 with their spidery legs and thin faces.
O'Reilly passed a damp hand across his eyes. "God!" he breathed.
"She—she's one of these!"
He had not penetrated16 even thus far into the city without receiving a hint of what conditions must be, for in the outlying streets he had seen sights and smelled odors that had sickened him; but now that he was face to face with the worst, now that he breathed the very breath of misery17, he could scarcely credit what he saw. A stench, indescribably nauseating18, assailed19 him and Jacket as they mingled20 with the crowd, for as yet their nostrils21 were unused to poverty and filth22. It was the rancid odor that arises from unwashed, unhealthy bodies, and it testified eloquently23 to the living-conditions of the prisoners. Hollow eyes and hopeless faces followed the two new-comers as they picked their way slowly along.
The reconcentrados overran Matanzas in an unclean swarm24; streets and plazas25 were congested with them, for no attempt was made to confine them to their quarters. Morning brought them streaming down from the suburban26 slopes where they lived, evening sent them winding27 back; their days were spent in an aimless search for food. They snatched at crumbs28 and combed the gutters29 for crusts. How they managed to exist, whence came the food that kept life in their miserable31 bodies, was a mystery, even to the citizens of the city; no organized effort had been made to care for them and there was insufficient32 surplus food for half their number. Yet somehow they lived and lingered on.
Of course the city was not entirely33 peopled by the starving—as a matter of fact they formed scarcely one-fifth of the normal civil population—and the life of the city was going on a good deal as usual. Stores were open, at least there was a daily train from Habana, and the barracks were full of Spanish troops. It was from off the wastage of this normal population that these fifteen thousand prisoners were forced to live. Even this wastage was woefully inadequate34, merely serving to prolong suffering by making starvation slower.
At the time of O'Reilly's arrival the sight presented by these innocent victims of war was appalling35; it roused in him a dull red rage at the power which had wrought36 this crime and at the men who permitted it to continue. Spain was a Christian37 nation, he reflected; she had set up more crosses than any other, and yet beneath them she had butchered more people than all the nations of the earth combined. This monstrous38, coldly calculating effort to destroy the entire Cuban people seemed to him the blackest infamy39 of all, and he wondered if it would be allowed to succeed.
Fortunately for the two friends, General Betancourt's generosity40 served to relieve them from any immediate41 danger of starvation. After making a few purchases and eating with the utmost frugality42, they began their search. Later, they stretched themselves out to sleep on the stones beneath the portales of the railroad station.
They spent a horrid43, harrowing night, for now the general distress44 was brought home to them more poignantly45 than ever. At dawn they learned that these people were actually dying of neglect. The faint light betrayed the presence of new corpses46 lying upon the station flagstones. From those still living, groans47, sighs, sick mutterings rose until O'Reilly finally dragged his youthful companion out of the place.
"I can't stand that," he confessed. "I can't sleep when people are starving to death alongside of me. This money burns my pocket. I—I—"
Jacket read his purpose and laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"It will save OUR lives, too," he said, simply.
"Bah! We are men. There are women and children yonder—"
But Jacket's sensibilities were calloused48, it seemed. "Of what use would your few pesetas be among so many?" he inquired. "God has willed this, and He knows what He is doing. Besides, your 'pretty one' is probably as hungry as are these people. No doubt we shall find that she, too, is starving."
O'Reilly slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket. "Yes! It's Rosa's money. But—come; I can't endure this."
He led the way back to the Plaza of Liberty and there on an iron bench they waited for the full day. They were very tired, but further sleep was impossible, for the death-wagons49 rumbled50 by on their way to collect the bodies of those who had died during the night.
Neither the man nor the boy ever wholly lost the nightmare memory of the next few days, for their search took them into every part of the reconcentrado districts. What they beheld51 aged30 them. Day after day, from dawn till dark, they wandered, peering into huts, staring into faces, asking questions until they were faint from fatigue52 and sick with disappointment.
As time passed and they failed to find Rosa Varona a terrible apprehension53 began to weigh O'Reilly down; his face grew old and drawn54, his shoulders sagged55, his limbs began to drag. It was all that Jacket could do to keep him going. The boy, now that there was actual need of him, proved a perfect jewel; his optimism never failed, his faith never faltered56, and O'Reilly began to feel a dumb gratitude57 at having the youngster by his side.
Jacket, too, became thin and gray about the lips. But he complained not at all and he laughed a great deal. To him the morrow was always another day of brilliant promise toward which he looked with never-failing eagerness; and not for a single moment did he question the ultimate success of their endeavor. Such an example did much for the older man. Together they practised the strictest, harshest economy, living on a few cents a day, while they methodically searched the city from limit to limit.
At first O'Reilly concerned himself more than a little with the problem of escape, but as time wore on he thought less and less about that. Nor did he have occasion to waste further concern regarding his disguise. That it was perfect he proved when several of his former acquaintances passed him by and when, upon one occasion, he came face to face with old Don Mario de Castano. Don Mario had changed; he was older, his flesh had softened58, and it hung loosely upon his form. He appeared worried, harassed59, and O'Reilly recalled rumors60 that the war had ruined him. The man's air of dejection seemed to bear out the story.
They had been enemies, nevertheless O'Reilly felt a sudden impulse to make himself known to the Spaniard and to appeal directly for news of Rosa's fate. But Don Mario, he remembered in time, had a reputation for vindictiveness61, so he smothered62 the desire. One other encounter O'Reilly had reason to remember.
It so chanced that one day he and Jacket found themselves in the miserable rabble63 which assembled at the railroad station to implore64 alms from the incoming passengers of the Habana train. Few people were traveling these days, and they were, for the most part, Spanish officers to whom the sight of starving country people was no novelty. Now and then, however, there did arrive visitors from whom the spectacle of so much wretchedness wrung65 a contribution, hence there was always an expectant throng at the depot66. On this occasion O'Reilly was surprised to hear the piteous whines67 for charity in the name of God turn suddenly into a subdued68 but vicious mutter of rage. Hisses69 were intermingled with vituperations, then the crowd fell strangely silent, parting to allow the passage of a great, thick-set man in the uniform of a Colonel of Volunteers. The fellow was unusually swarthy and he wore a black scowl70 upon his face, while a long puckering71 scar the full length of one cheek lifted his mouth into a crooked72 sneer73 and left exposed a glimpse of wolfish teeth.
O'Reilly was at a loss to fathom74 this sudden alteration75 of attitude, the whistle of indrawn breaths and the whispered curses, until he heard some one mutter the name, "Cobo." Then indeed he started and stiffened76 in his tracks. He fixed77 a fascinated stare upon the fellow.
Colonel Cobo seemed no little pleased by the reception he created. With his chest arched and his black eyes gleaming malevolently78 he swaggered through the press, clicking his heels noisily upon the stone flags. When he had gone Jacket voiced a vicious oath.
"So that is the butcher of babies!" exclaimed the boy. "Well, now, I should enjoy cutting his heart out."
O'Reilly's emotions were not entirely unlike those of his small companion. His lips became dry and white as he tried to speak.
He found himself shaking weakly, and discovered that a new and wholly unaccountable feeling of discouragement had settled upon him. He tried manfully to shake it off, but somehow failed, for the sight of Rosa's arch-enemy and the man's overbearing personality had affected80 him queerly. Cobo's air of confidence and authority seemed to emphasize O'Reilly's impotence and bring it forcibly home to him. To think of his lustful81 persecution82 of Rosa Varona, moreover, terrified him. The next day he resumed his hut-to-hut search, but with a listlessness that came from a firm conviction that once again he was too late.
That afternoon found the two friends among the miserable hovels which encircled the foot of La Cumbre, about the only quarter they had not explored. Below lay San Severino, the execution-place; above was the site of the old Verona home. More than once on his way about the city O'Reilly had lifted his eyes in the direction of the latter, feeling a great hunger to revisit the scene of his last farewell to Rosa, but through fear of the melancholy83 effect it would have upon him he had thus far resisted the impulse. To-day, however, he could no longer fight the morbid84 desire and so, in spite of Jacket's protest at the useless expenditure85 of effort, he set out to climb the hill. Of course the boy would not let him go alone.
Little was said during the ascent86. The La Cumbre road seemed very long and very steep. How different the last time O'Reilly had swung up it! The climb had never before tired him as it did now, and he reasoned that hunger must have weakened him even more than he realized. Jacket felt the exertion87, too; he was short of breath and he rested frequently. O'Reilly saw that the boy's bare, brown legs had grown bony since he had last noticed them, and he felt a sudden pang88 at having brought the little fellow into such a plight89 as this.
"Well, hombre," he said when they paused to rest, "I'm afraid we came too late. I'm afraid we're licked."
Jacket nodded listlessly; his optimism, too, was gone. "They must all be dead or we would have found them before this," said he. When O'Reilly made no answer he continued, "It is time we thought of getting away from here, eh?"
Johnnie was sitting with his face in his hands. Without lifting his head he inquired: "How are we going to get away? It is easy enough to get into Matanzas, but—" He shrugged90 hopelessly.
From where the two sat they could see on the opposite hillside a section of the ditch and the high barbed-wire fence which girdled the city and made of it a huge corral. Spaced at regular intervals91 along the intrenchments were slow-moving, diminutive92 figures, sentries93 on their well-worn paths.
Jacket brightened at the thought of escape. "Ho! I'll bet we can find a hole somewhere," said he. "We're not like these others. They haven't the spirit to try." There was a moment of silence, and then: "Caramba! You remember those jutias we ate? They were strong, but I would enjoy the smell of one now. Eh? Another week of this and we shall be living on garbage like the rest of these poor people."
Leaving Jacket to take his time, Johnnie completed the climb alone, meditating94 upon the boy's words. "The spirit to try!" Where had his spirit gone, he wondered. Perhaps it had been crushed beneath the weight of misery he had beheld; surely he had seen enough. Hourly contact with sickness and misfortune on such a gigantic scale was enough to chill any one's hopes, and although his sensibilities had been dulled, his apprehensions96 had been quickened hour by hour. Now that he looked the matter squarely in the face, it seemed absurd to believe that a tender girl like Rosa Varona could long have withstood the hardships of this hideous97 place; stronger people than she had succumbed98, by the hundreds. Even now the hospitals were full, the sick lay untended in their hovels. No one, so far as O'Reilly knew, had undertaken to estimate how fast they were dying or the number of dead which had already ridden out of Matanzas in those rumbling99 wagons, but there were many. What chance was there that Rosa had not been among the latter? Better by far had she remained among the empty fields and the barren slopes of the Pan de Matanzas, for there at least the soil held roots and the trees bore fruits or berries, while here was nothing but gaunt famine and grinning disease.
As he breasted the summit of La Cumbre, O'Reilly beheld at some distance a bent100 figure of want. It was a negro woman, grubbing in the earth with a sharpened stick. After a suspicious scrutiny101 of him she resumed her digging.
Nothing but a heap of stones and plaster remained of the Varona home. The grounds, once beautiful even when neglected as in Dona Isabel's time, were now a scene of total desolation. A few orange-trees, to be sure, remained standing102, and although they were cool and green to look at, they carried no fruit and the odor of their blooms was a trial and a mockery to the hungry visitor. The evidences of Cueto's vandalism affected O'Reilly deeply; they brought him memories more painful than he had anticipated. Although the place was well-nigh unrecognizable, nevertheless it cried aloud of Rosa, and the unhappy lover could barely control the emotions it awakened103. It was indeed a morbid impulse which had brought him thither104, but now that he was here he could not leave. Unconsciously his feet turned toward the ancient quarry105 which had formed the sunken garden—his and Rosa's trysting-place.
O'Reilly desired above all things to be alone at this moment, and so he was annoyed to discover that another person was before him—a woman, evidently some miserable pacifico like himself. She, too, appeared to be looking for roots, and he almost stumbled over her as he brushed through the guava-bushes fringing the depression.
His sudden appearance alarmed the creature and she struggled, panic-stricken, out of his path. Her rags could not conceal106 the fact that she was deformed107, that her back was crooked, so he muttered a reassuring108 word to her.
This place was more as he had left it—there was the stone bench where he had said good-by to Rosa; yonder was the well—
"Senor!" Johnnie heard himself addressed by the hunch-backed woman. Her voice was thin, tremulous, eager, but his thoughts were busy and he paid no heed109. "Senor! Do you look for something—some one—"
"N-no. Yes—" he answered, abstractedly. "Yes, I am looking for something—some one."
"Something you have lost?"
"Something I have lost!" The question came to him faintly, but it was so in tune95 with his unhappy mood that it affected him strangely. He found that his eyes were blurring110 and that an aching lump had risen into his throat. This was the breaking-point.
O'Reilly's hearing, too, was going wrong, for he imagined that some one whispered his name. God! This place was not dead—it was alive—terribly alive with memories, voices, a presence unseen yet real. He laid hold of the nearest bush to steady himself, he closed his eyes, only to hear his name spoken louder:
"O'Rail-ye!"
Johnnie brushed the tears from his lashes111. He turned, he listened, but there was no one to be seen, no one, that is, except the dusky cripple who had straightened herself and was facing him, poised112 uncertainly. He looked at her a second time, then the world began to spin dizzily and he groped his way toward her. He peered again, closer, for everything before his eyes was swimming.
The woman was thin—little more than a skeleton—and so frail113 that the wind appeared to sway her, but her face, uplifted to the sun, was glorified114. O'Reilly stood rooted, staring at her until she opened her eyes, then he voiced a great cry:
"ROSA!" What more he said he never knew …
He took the misshapen figure into his arms, he rained kisses upon the pinched, discolored face. But Rosa did not respond; her puny115 strength had flown and she lay inert116 in his embrace, scarcely breathing. Tears stole down her cheeks and very faintly her fingers fluttered over his bearded cheeks.
Dazed, doubting, astounded117, it was some time before Johnnie could convince himself of the reality of this moment, and even then words did not come to him, for his mind was in turmoil118. Joy, thanksgiving, compassion—a thousand emotions—mingled in a sort of delirium119, too wild for coherent thought or speech.
Fear finally brought him to his senses, for he became aware that Rosa had collapsed120 and that his endearments122 left her unthrilled. Quickly he bore her to the bench and laid her upon it. After a time she smiled up into his eyes and her words were scarcely more than a murmur123:
"God heard my prayers and sent you to me."
"Rosa! You are ill, you are weak—"
"No, no!" In agony he gathered her once more into his arms.
"Oh yes!" Her bloodless fingers touched his face again, then his thin, worn rags. "You, too, have suffered. How came you to be so poor and hungry, O'Rail-ye?"
"I'm not poor, I'm rich. See!" He jingled125 the coins in his pocket. "That's money; money for you, sweet-heart. It will buy you food and medicine, it will make you well and strong again. Rosa, dear, I have looked for you so long, so long—" His voice broke wretchedly and he bowed his head. "I—I was afraid—"
"I waited as long as I had strength to wait," she told him. "It is too bad you came so late."
Once again she lapsed121 into the lethargy of utter weakness, whereupon he fell to stroking her hands, calling upon her to come back to him. He was beside himself now; a terrible feeling of impotence and despair overcame him.
Hearing some one speak, he raised his eyes and discovered at his side that figure of want which he had seen digging on the slope below. It was Evangelina. The negress was little more than skin and bones, her eyes were bleared and yellow and sunken, her face had grown ape-like, but he recognized her and she him.
"You are the American," she declared. "You are Rosa's man."
"Yes. But what is wrong with her? Look! She is ill—"
"She is often like that. It is the hunger. We have nothing to eat, senor. I, too, am ill—dying; and Asensio—Oh, you don't know how they have made us suffer."
"We must get Rosa home. Where do you live?"
Evangelina turned her death's head toward the city. "Down yonder. But what's the use? There is no food in our house and Rosa is afraid of those wagons. You know—the ones with the corpses. She made me bring her here to die."
The girl was not wholly unconscious, it seemed, for she stirred and murmured, faintly: "Those wagons! Don't let them put me in there with the other dead. They pile the bodies high—" A weak shudder126 convulsed her.
O'Reilly bent lower, and in a strong, determined127 voice cried: "You are not going to die. I have money for food. Rouse yourself, Rosa, rouse yourself."
"She prayed for you every night," the negress volunteered. "Such faith!
Such trust! She never doubted that you would come and find her.
Sometimes she cried, but that was because of her brother. Esteban, you
know, is dead. Yes, dead, like all the rest."
"Esteban is NOT dead," O'Reilly asserted. "He is alive. Rosa, do you hear that? Esteban is alive and well. I left him with Gomez in the Orient. I have come to take you to him."
"Esteban alive? Ha! You are fooling us." Evangelina wagged her head wisely. "We know better than that."
"I tell you he IS alive," O'Reilly insisted. He heard. Jacket calling to him at that moment, so he hallooed to the boy; then when the latter had arrived he explained briefly128, without allowing Jacket time in which to express his amazement129:
"Our search is over; we have found them. But they won't believe that
Esteban is alive. Tell them the truth."
"Yes, he is alive. We found him rotting in a prison and we rescued him," Jacket corroborated130. He stared curiously131 at the recumbent figure on the bench, then at O'Reilly. He puckered132 his lips and gave vent133 to a low whistle of amazement. "So. This is your pretty one, eh? I—She—Well, I don't think much of her. But then, you are not so handsome yourself, are you?"
Evangelina seemed to be stupid, a trifle touched, perhaps, from suffering, for she laid a skinny claw upon O'Reilly's shoulder and warned him earnestly: "Look out for Cobo. You have heard about him, eh? Well, he is the cause of all our misery. He hunted us from place to place, and it was for him that I put that hump on her back. Understand me, she is straight—straight and pretty enough for any American. Her skin is like milk, too, and her hair—she used to put flowers in it for you, and then we would play games. But you never came. You will make allowances for her looks, will you not?"
"Poor Rosa! You two poor creatures!" O'Reilly choked; he hid his face upon his sweetheart's breast.
O'Reilly's ascent of the hill had been slow, but his descent was infinitely136 slower, for Rosa was so feeble that she could help herself but little and he lacked the strength to carry her far at a time. Finally, however, they reached the wretched hovel where Asensio lay, then leaving her there, Johnnie sped on alone into the city. He returned soon with several small bundles concealed137 about his person, and with Evangelina's help he set about preparing food.
Neither Rosa nor the two negroes had any appetite—their hunger had long since passed the point at which they were conscious of it—and O'Reilly was compelled to force them to eat. When he had given them all that he dared he offered what food was left to Jacket.
"Oh, I'm not so hungry," he declared, indifferently. "I have a friend in the market-place; I will go down there and steal a fish from him."
O'Reilly patted him on the shoulder, saying: "You are a good kid, and you understand, don't you? These sick people will need more food than we can buy for them, so we will have to draw our belts tight."
"Of course. Eating is a habit, anyhow, and we men know how to get along without it. I will manage to find something for you and me, for I'm a prodigious139 thief. I can steal the hair from a man's head when I try." With a nod he set off to find his benefactor's supper.
Jacket whistled heroically until he was out of O'Reilly's hearing, then his bearing changed. His mouth drew down, and moisture came into his eyes. He rubbed a grimy hand over his stomach, murmuring, faintly: "Cristo! It is hard to be a man when you smell things cooking!"
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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gourds
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| n.葫芦( gourd的名词复数 ) | |
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plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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romping
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| adj.嬉戏喧闹的，乱蹦乱闹的v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的现在分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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wizened
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| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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likeness
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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nauseating
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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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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nostrils
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filth
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eloquently
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swarm
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plazas
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| n.（尤指西班牙语城镇的）露天广场( plaza的名词复数 )；购物中心 | |
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suburban
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winding
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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35
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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36
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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37
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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38
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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39
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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40
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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41
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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42
frugality
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| n.节约，节俭 | |
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43
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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44
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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45
poignantly
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46
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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47
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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48
calloused
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| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
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49
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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50
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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51
beheld
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| 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 | |
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52
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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53
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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54
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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55
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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56
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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57
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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58
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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59
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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60
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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61
vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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62
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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63
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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64
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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65
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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66
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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67
whines
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| n.悲嗥声( whine的名词复数 )；哀鸣者v.哀号( whine的第三人称单数 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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68
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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69
hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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70
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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71
puckering
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的现在分词 )；小褶纹；小褶皱 | |
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72
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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73
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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74
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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75
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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76
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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77
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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78
malevolently
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79
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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80
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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81
lustful
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| a.贪婪的；渴望的 | |
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82
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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83
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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84
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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85
expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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86
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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87
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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88
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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89
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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90
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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91
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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92
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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93
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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94
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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95
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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96
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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97
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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98
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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99
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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100
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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101
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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102
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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103
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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104
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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105
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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106
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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107
deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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108
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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109
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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110
blurring
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| n.模糊，斑点甚多，（图像的）混乱v.（使）变模糊( blur的现在分词 )；（使）难以区分 | |
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111
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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112
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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113
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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114
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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115
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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116
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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117
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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118
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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119
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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120
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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121
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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122
endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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123
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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124
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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125
jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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126
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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127
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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128
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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129
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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130
corroborated
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| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
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131
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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132
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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134
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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136
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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137
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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138
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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139
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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