"Come, come," she said, "I'm losing my head . . . . Let me think things out . . . . A few hours ago, François was speaking to me through the wall of his prison . . . for it was certainly he then, it was certainly François who yesterday took my hand and covered it with his kisses . . . . A mother cannot be deceived; and I was quivering with love and tenderness . . . . But since . . . since this morning has he not left his prison?"
She stopped to think and then said, slowly:
"That's it . . . that's what happened . . . . Stéphane and I were discovered below, on the floor underneath3. The alarm was given at once. The monster, Vorski's son, had gone up expressly to watch François. He found the cell empty and, seeing the opening which had been made, crawled out here. Yes, that's it . . . . If not, by what way did he come? . . . When he got here, it occurred to him to run to the window, knowing that it overlooked the sea and suspecting that François had chosen it to make his escape. He at once saw the hooks of the ladder. Then, on leaning over, he saw me, knew who I was and called out to me . . . . And now . . . now he is on his way to the Priory, where he is bound to meet François . . . ."
Nevertheless Véronique did not stir. She had an instinct that the danger lay not at the Priory but here, by the cells. And she wondered whether François had really succeeded in escaping and whether, before his task was done, he had not been surprised by the other and attacked by him.
It was a horrible doubt! She stooped quickly and, perceiving that the hole had been widened, tried to pass through it herself. But the outlet4, at most large enough for a child, was too narrow for her; and her shoulders became fixed5. She persisted in the attempt, however, tearing her bodice and bruising6 her skin against the rock, and at last, by dint7 of patience and wriggling8, succeeded in slipping through.
The cell was empty. But the door was open on the passages facing her; and Véronique had an impression—merely an impression, for the window admitted only a faint light—that some one was just leaving the cell through the open door. And from this confused impression of something that she had not absolutely seen she retained the certainty that it was a woman who was hiding there, in the passage, a woman surprised by her unexpected entrance.
"It's their accomplice," thought Véronique. "She came up with the boy who killed Stéphane, and she has no doubt taken François away . . . . Perhaps François is even there still, quite near me, while she's watching me . . . ."
Meanwhile Véronique's eyes were growing accustomed to the semidarkness and she distinctly saw a woman's hand upon the door, which opened inwardly. The hand was slowly pulling.
"Why doesn't she shut it at once," Véronique wondered, "since she obviously wants to put a barrier between us?"
Véronique received her answer when she heard a pebble10 grating under the door and interfering11 with its movement. If the pebble were not there, the door would be closed. Without hesitating, Véronique went up, took hold of a great iron handle and pulled it towards her. The hand disappeared, but the opposition12 continued. There was evidently a handle on the other side as well.
Suddenly she heard a whistle. The woman was summoning assistance. And almost at the same time, in the passage, at some distance from the woman, there was a cry:
"Mother! Mother!"
Ah, with what deep emotion Véronique heard that cry! Her son, her real son was calling to her, her son, still a captive but alive! Oh, the superhuman delight of it!
"I'm here, darling!"
"Quick, mother! I'm tied up; and the whistle is their signal . . . they'll be coming."
"I'm here . . . . I shall save you before they come!"
She had no doubt of the result. It seemed to her as though her strength knew no limits and as though nothing could resist the exasperated13 tension of her whole being.
Her adversary14 was in fact weakening and giving ground by inches. The opening became wider; and suddenly the contest was over. Véronique walked through.
The woman had already fled down the passage and was dragging the boy by a rope in order to make him walk despite the cords with which he was bound. It was a vain attempt and she abandoned it forthwith. Véronique was close to her, with her revolver in her hand.
The woman let go the boy and stood up in the light from the open cells. She was dressed in white serge, with a knotted girdle round her waist. Her arms were half bare. Her face was still young, but faded, thin and wrinkled. Her hair was fair, interspersed15 with strands16 of white. Her eyes gleamed with a feverish17 hatred18.
The two women looked at each other without a word, like two adversaries19 who have met before and are about to fight again. Véronique almost smiled, with a smile of mingled20 triumph and defiance21. In the end she said:
"If you dare to lay a finger on my child, I'll kill you. Go! Be off!"
The woman was not frightened. She seemed to be reflecting and to be listening in the expectation of assistance. None come. Then she lowered her eyes to François and made a movement as though to seize upon her prey again.
"Don't touch him!" Véronique exclaimed, violently. "Don't touch him, or I fire!"
"No threats, please! If I had wanted to kill that child of yours, I should have done so by now. But his hour has not come; and it is not by my hand that he is to die."
Véronique, trembling all over, could not help asking:
"By whose hand is he to die?"
"By my son's: you know . . . the one you've seen."
"Is he your son, the murderer, the monster?"
"He's the son of . . ."
"Silence! Silence!" Véronique commanded. She understood that the woman had been Vorski's mistress and feared that she would make some disclosure in François' presence. "Silence: that name is not to be spoken."
"It will be when it has to be," said the woman. "Ah, I've suffered enough through you, Véronique: it's your turn now; and you're only at the beginning of it!"
"Go!" cried Véronique, pointing her revolver.
"Once more, no threats, please."
"Go, or I fire! I swear it on the head of my son."
The woman retreated, betraying a certain anxiety in spite of herself. But she was seized with a fresh access of rage. Impotently she raised her clenched24 fists and shouted, in a raucous25, broken voice:
"I will be revenged . . . You shall see. Véronique . . . . The cross—do you understand?—the cross is ready . . . . You are the fourth . . . . What, oh, what a revenge!"
She shook her gnarled, bony fists. And she continued:
"Oh, how I hate you! Fifteen years of hatred! But the cross will avenge26 me . . . . I shall string you up on it myself . . . . The cross is ready . . . you'll see . . . the cross is ready for you! . . ."
"Don't kill her, mother, will you?" whispered François, suspecting the contest in his mother's mind.
Véronique seemed to wake from a dream:
"No, no," she replied, "don't be afraid . . . . And yet perhaps I ought to . . ."
"Oh, please let her be, mother, and let us go away."
She lifted him in her arms, even before the woman was out of sight, pressed him to her and carried him to the cell as though he weighed no more than a little child.
"Mother, mother," he said.
"Yes, darling, your own mother; and no one shall take you from me again, that I swear to you."
Without troubling about the wounds inflicted28 by the stone she slipped, this time almost at the first attempt, through the gap made by François, drew him after her and then, but not before, released him from his bonds.
"There is no danger here," she said, "at least for the moment, because they can hardly get at us except by the cell and I shall be able to defend the entrance."
Mother and son exchanged the fondest of embraces. There was now no barrier to part their[Pg 187] lips and their arms. They could see each other, could gaze into each other's eyes.
"How handsome you are, my darling!" said Véronique.
She saw no resemblance between him and the boy murderer and was astonished that Honorine could have taken one for the other. And she felt as if she would never weary of admiring the breeding, the frankness and the sweetness which she read in his face.
"And you, mother," he said, "do you think that I ever pictured a mother as beautiful as you? No, not even in my dreams, when you seemed as lovely as a fairy. And yet Stéphane often used to tell me . . ."
She interrupted him:
"We must hurry, dearest, and take refuge from their pursuit. We must go."
"Yes," he said, "and above all we must leave Sarek. I have invented a plan of escape which is bound to succeed. But, first of all, Stéphane: what has become of him? I heard the sound of which I spoke23 to you underneath my cell and I fear . . ."
She dragged him along by the hand, without answering his question:
"I have many things to tell you, darling, painful things which I must no longer keep from you. But presently will do . . . . For the moment we must take refuge in the Priory. That woman will go in search of help and come after us."
"But she was not alone, mother, when she entered my cell suddenly and caught me in the act of digging at the wall. There was some one with her."
"A boy, wasn't it? A boy of your own size?"
"I could hardly see. He and the woman fell upon me, bound me and carried me into the passage. Then the woman left me for a moment and he went back to the cell. He therefore knows about this tunnel by now and about the exit in the Priory grounds."
"Yes, I know. But we shall easily get the better of him; and we'll block up the exit."
"No," she said, "I burnt it down and the Priory is absolutely cut off."
They were walking very quickly, Véronique pressing her pace, François a little anxious at the words spoken by his mother.
"Yes, yes," he said, "I see that there is a good deal which I don't know and which you have kept from me, mother, in order not to frighten me. For instance, when you burnt down the bridge . . . . It was with the petrol set aside for the purpose, wasn't it, and as arranged with Maguennoc in case of danger? So you were threatened too; and the first attack was made on you, mother? . . . And then there was something that woman said with such a hateful look on her face! . . . And then . . . and then, above all, what has become of Stéphane? They were whispering about him just now in my cell . . . . All this worries me . . . . Then again I don't see the ladder which you brought . . . ."
"Please, dearest, don't let us wait a moment. The woman will have found assistance . . . ."
The boy stopped short:
"Mother."
"What? Do you hear anything?"
"Some one walking."
"Are you sure?"
"Some one coming this way."
"Oh," she said, in a hollow voice, "it's the murderer coming back from the Priory!"
She felt her revolver and prepared herself for anything that might happen. But suddenly she pushed François towards a dark corner on her left, formed by the entry to one of those tunnels, probably blocked, which she had noticed when she came.
"Get in there," she said. "We shall be all right here: he will not see us."
The sound approached.
"Stand well back," she said, "and don't stir."
The boy whispered:
"What's that in your hand? A revolver? Mother, you're not going to fire?"
"I ought to, I ought to," said Véronique. "He's such a monster! . . . It's as with his mother . . . I ought to have . . . we shall perhaps regret it." And she added, almost unconsciously, "He killed your grandfather."
"Oh, mother, mother!"
She supported him, to prevent his falling, and amid the silence she heard the boy sobbing30 on her breast and stammering31:
"Never mind . . . don't fire, mother . . . ."
"Here he comes, darling, here he comes; look at him."
The other passed. He was walking slowly, a little bent32, listening for the least sound. He appeared to Véronique to be the exact same size as her son; and this time, when she looked at him with more attention, she was not so much surprised that Honorine and M. d'Hergemont had been taken in, for there were really some points of resemblance, which would have been accentuated33 by the fact that he was wearing the red cap stolen from François.
He walked on.
"Do you know him?" asked Véronique.
"No, mother."
"Are you sure that you never saw him?"
"Sure."
"And it was he who fell upon you, with the woman, in your cell?"
"I haven't a doubt of it, mother. He even hit me in the face, for no reason, with absolute hatred."
"Oh," she said, "this is all incomprehensible! When shall we escape this awful nightmare?"
"Quick, mother, the road's clear. Let's make the most of it."
On returning to the light, she saw that he was very pale and felt his hand in hers like a lump of ice. Nevertheless he looked up at her with a smile of happiness.
They set out again; and soon, after passing the strip of cliff that joined the two islands and climbing the staircases, they emerged in the open air, to the right of Maguennoc's garden. The daylight was beginning to wane34.
"We are saved," said Véronique.
"Yes," replied the boy, "but only on condition that they cannot reach us by the same road. We shall have to bar it, therefore."
"How?"
"Wait for me here; I'll go and fetch some tools at the Priory."
"Oh, don't let us leave each other, François!"
"You can come with me, mother."
"And suppose the enemy arrives in the meantime? No, we must defend this outlet."
"Then help me, mother."
A rapid inspection35 showed them that one of the two stones which formed a roof above the entrance was not very firmly rooted in its place. They found no difficulty in first shifting and then clearing it. The stone fell across the staircase and was at once covered by an avalanche36 of earth and pebbles37 which made the passage, if not impracticable, at least very hard to manage.
"All the more so," said François, "as we shall stay here until we are able to carry out my plan. And be easy, mother; it's a sound scheme and we have nearly managed it."
For that matter, they recognized above all, that rest was essential. They were both of them worn out.
"Lie down, mother . . . look, just here: there's a bed of moss38 under this overhanging rock which makes a regular nest. You'll be as cosy39 as a queen there and sheltered from the cold."
"Oh, my darling, my darling!" murmured Véronique, overcome with happiness.
It was now the time for explanations; and Véronique did not hesitate to give them. The boy's grief at hearing of the death of all those whom he had known would be mitigated40 by the great joy which he felt at recovering his mother. She therefore spoke without reserve, cradling him in her lap, wiping away his tears, feeling plainly that she was enough to make up for all the lost affections and friendships. He was particularly afflicted41 by Stéphane's death.
"But is it quite certain?" he asked. "For, after all, there is nothing to tell us that he is drowned. Stéphane is a perfect swimmer; and so . . . Yes, yes, mother, we must not despair . . . on the contrary . . . . Look, here's a friend who always comes at the worst times, to declare that everything is not lost."
All's Well came trotting42 along. The sight of his master did not appear to surprise him. Nothing unduly43 surprised All's Well. Events, to his mind, always followed one another in a natural order which did not disturb either his habits or his occupations. Tears alone seemed to him worthy44 of special attention. And Véronique and François were not crying.
"You see, mother? All's Well agrees with me; nothing is lost . . . . But, upon my word, All's Well, you're a sharp little fellow! What would you have said, eh, if we'd left the island without you?"
Véronique looked at her son:
"Left the island?"
"Certainly: and the sooner the better. That's my plan. What do you say to it?"
"But how are we to get away?"
"In a boat."
"Is there one here?"
"Yes, mine."
"Where?"
"Close by, at Sarek Point."
"But how are we to get down? The cliff is perpendicular45."
"She's at the very place where the cliff is steepest, a place known as the Postern. The name puzzled Stéphane and myself. A postern suggests an entrance, a gate. Well, we ended by learning that, in the middle ages, at the time of the monks46, the little isle47 on which the Priory stands was surrounded by ramparts. It was therefore to be presumed that there was a postern here which commanded an outlet on the sea. And in fact, after hunting about with Maguennoc, we discovered, on the flat top of the cliff, a sort of gully, a sandy depression reinforced at intervals48 by regular walls made of big building-stones. A path winds down the middle, with steps and windows on the side of the sea, and leads to a little bay. That is the Postern outlet. We repaired it: and my boat is hanging at the foot of the cliff."
Véronique's features underwent a transformation49:
"Then we're safe now!"
"There's no doubt of that."
"And the enemy can't get there?"
"How could he?"
"He has the motor-boat at his disposal."
"He has never been there, because he doesn't know of the bay nor of the way down to it either: you can't see them from the open sea. Besides, they are protected by a thousand sharp-pointed rocks."
"And what's to prevent us from leaving at once?"
"The darkness, mother. I'm a good mariner50 and accustomed to navigate51 all the channels that lead away from Sarek, but I should not be at all sure of not striking some reef or other. No, we must wait for daylight."
"It seems so long!"
"A few hours' patience, mother. And we are together, you and I! At break of dawn, we'll take the boat and begin by hugging the foot of the cliff till we are underneath the cells. Then we'll pick up Stéphane, who of course will be waiting for us on some strip of beach, and we'll all be off, won't we, All's Well? We'll land at Pont-l'Abbé at twelve o'clock or so. That's my plan."
Véronique could not contain her delight and admiration52. She was astonished to find so young a boy giving proofs of such self-possession.
"It's splendid, darling, and you're right in everything. Luck is decidedly coming our way."
The evening passed without incidents. An alarm, however, a noise under the rubbish which blocked the underground passage and a ray of light trickling53 through a slit54 obliged them to mount guard until the minute of their departure. But it did not affect their spirits.
"Why, of course I'm easy in my mind," said François. "From the moment when I found you again, I felt that it was for good. Besides, if the worst came to the worst, have we not a last hope left? Stéphane spoke to you about it, I expect. And it makes you laugh, my confidence in a rescuer whom I have never seen . . . . Well, I tell you, mother, if I were to see a dagger55 about to strike me, I should be certain, absolutely certain, mind you, that a hand would come and ward9 off the blow."
"Alas," she said, "that providential hand did not prevent all the misfortunes of which I told you!"
"It will keep off those which threaten my mother," declared the boy.
"How? This unknown friend has not been warned."
"He will come all the same. He doesn't need to be warned to know how great the danger is. He will come. And, mother, promise me one thing: whatever happens, you must have confidence."
"I will have confidence, darling, I promise you."
"And you will be right," he said, laughing, "for I shall be the leader. And what a leader, eh, mother? Why, yesterday evening I foresaw that, to carry the enterprise through successfully and so that my mother should be neither cold nor hungry, in case we were not able to take the boat this afternoon, we must have food and rugs! Well, they will be of use to us to-night, seeing that for prudence's sake we mustn't abandon our post here and sleep at the Priory. Where did you put the parcel, mother?"
They ate gaily56 and with a good appetite. Then François wrapped his mother up and tucked her in: and they both fell asleep, lying close together, happy and unafraid.
When the keen air of the morning woke Véronique, a belt of rosy57 light streaked58 the sky. François was sleeping the peaceful sleep of a child that feels itself protected and is untroubled by dreams. For a long time she just sat gazing at him without wearying: and she was still looking at him when the sun was high above the horizon.
"To work, mother," he said, after he had opened his eyes and given her a kiss. "No one in the tunnel? No. Then we have plenty of time to go on board."
They took the rugs and provisions and, with brisk steps, went towards the descent leading to the Postern, at the extreme end of the island. Beyond this point the rocks were heaped up in formidable confusion: and the sea, though calm, lapped against them noisily.
"I hope your boat's there still!" said Véronique.
"Lean over a little, mother. You can see her down there, hanging in that crevice59. We have only to work the pulley to get her afloat. Oh, it's all very well thought out, mother darling! We have nothing to fear . . . . Only . . . only . . ."
He had interrupted himself and was thinking.
"What? What is it?" asked Véronique.
"Oh, nothing! A slight delay."
"But . . ."
He began to laugh:
"Really, for the leader of an expedition, it's rather humiliating, I admit. Just fancy, I've forgotten one thing: the oars60. They are at the Priory."
"But this is terrible!" cried Véronique.
"Why? I'll run to the Priory and I shall be back in ten minutes."
All Véronique's apprehensions61 returned:
"And suppose they make their way out of the tunnel meanwhile?"
"Come, come, mother," he laughed, "you promised to have confidence. To get out of the[Pg 197] tunnel would take them an hour's hard work; and we should hear them. Besides, what's the use of talking, mother? I'll be back at once."
He ran off.
"François! François!"
He did not reply.
"Oh," she thought, once more assailed62 by forebodings. "I had sworn not to leave him for a second!"
She followed him at a distance and stopped on a hillock between the Fairies' Dolmen and the Calvary of the Flowers. From here she could see the entrance to the tunnel and also saw her son jogging along the grass.
He first went into the basement of the Priory. But the oars seemed not to be there, for he came out almost at once and went to the main door, which he opened and disappeared from sight.
"One minute ought to be plenty for him," said Véronique to herself. "The oars must be in the hall . . . or at any rate on the ground-floor . . . . Say two minutes, at the outside."
She counted the seconds while watching the entrance to the tunnel.
But three minutes, four minutes, five minutes passed: and the front-door did not open again.
All Véronique's confidence vanished. She thought that it was mad of her not to have gone with her son and that she ought never to have submitted to a child's will. Without troubling about the tunnel or the dangers from that side, she began to walk towards the Priory. But she had the horrible feeling which people sometimes experience in dreams, when their legs seem paralysed and when they are unable to move, while the enemy advances to attack them.
And suddenly, on reaching the Dolmen, she beheld63 a sight the meaning of which was immediately clear to her. The ground at the foot of the oaks round the right-hand part of the semi-circle was littered with lately cut branches, which still bore their green leaves.
She raised her eyes and stood stupefied and dismayed.
One oak alone had been stripped. And on the huge trunk, bare to a height of twelve or fifteen feet, there was a paper, transfixed by an arrow and bearing the inscription64, "V. d'H."
She supposed that, as her father was dead, the initials of her maiden66 name must have been written by one of her enemies, the chief of them, no doubt; and for the first time, under the influence of recent events, remembering the woman and the boy who were persecuting67 her, she involuntarily attributed a definite set of features to that enemy.
It was a fleeting68 impression, an improbable theory, of which she was not even conscious. She was overwhelmed by something much more terrible. She suddenly understood that the monsters, those creatures of the heath and the cells, the accomplices69 of the woman and the boy, must have been there, since the cross was prepared. No doubt they had built a foot-bridge and thrown it over the chasm70 to take the place of the bridge to which she had set fire. They were masters of the Priory. And François was once more in their hands!
Then she rushed straight along, collecting all her strength. She in her turn ran over the turf, dotted with ruins, that sloped towards the front of the house.
"François! François! François!"
She called his name in a piercing voice. She announced her coming with loud cries. Thus did she reach the Priory.
"François! François!"
"François! François!"
She went upstairs, opening doors at random73, running into her son's room, into Stéphane's, into Honorine's. She found nobody.
"François! François! . . . Don't you hear me? Are they hurting you? . . . Oh, François, do answer!"
She went back to the landing. Opposite her was M. d'Hergemont's study. She flung herself upon the door and at once recoiled74, as though stricken by a vision from hell.
A man was standing75 there, with arms crossed and apparently76 waiting for her. And it was the man whom she had pictured for an instant when thinking of the woman and the boy. It was the third monster!
She said, simply, but in a voice filled with inexpressible horror:
"Vorski! . . . Vorski! . . ."
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1
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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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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bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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9
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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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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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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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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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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wane
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| n.衰微，亏缺，变弱；v.变小，亏缺，呈下弦 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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mitigated
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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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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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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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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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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navigate
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| v.航行，飞行；导航，领航 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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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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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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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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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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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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persecuting
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的现在分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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accomplices
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| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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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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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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