Of all the visions that could have haunted Véronique's brain, there was none so abominable6 as the sight before her; Vorski standing7 erect8, with his arms crossed and his head up, alive! Vorski alive!
She would have accepted anything with her usual courage, but not this. She had felt strong enough to face and defy no matter what enemy, but not this one. Vorski stood for ignominious9 disgrace, for insatiable wickedness, for boundless10 ferocity, for method mingled11 with madness in crime.
And this man loved her.
She suddenly blushed. Vorski was staring with greedy eyes at the bare flesh of her shoulders and arms, which showed through her tattered12 bodice, and looking upon this bare flesh as upon a prey13 which nothing could snatch from him. Nevertheless Véronique did not budge14. She had no covering within reach. She pulled herself together under the insult of the man's desire and defied him with such a glance that he was embarrassed and for a moment turned away his eyes.
Then she cried, with an uncontrollable outburst of feeling:
"My son! Where's François? I want to see him."
"Our son is sacred, madame," he replied. "He has nothing to fear from his father."
"I want to see him."
He lifted his hand as one taking an oath:
"You shall see him, I swear."
"Dead, perhaps!" she said, in a hollow voice.
"As much alive as you and I, madame."
There was a fresh pause. Vorski was obviously seeking his words and preparing the speech with which the implacable conflict between them was to open.
He was a man of athletic15 stature16, with a powerful frame, legs slightly bowed, an enormous neck swollen17 by great bundles of muscles and a head unduly18 small, with fair hair plastered down and parted in the middle. That in him which at one time produced an impression of brute19 strength, combined with a certain distinction, had become with age the massive and vulgar aspect of a professional wrestler20 posturing21 on the hustings22 at a fair. The disquieting23 charm which once attracted the women had vanished; and all that remained was a harsh and cruel expression of which he tried to correct the hardness by means of an impassive smile.
He unfolded his arms, drew up a chair and, bowing to Véronique, said:
"Our conversation, madame, will be long and at times painful. Won't you sit down?"
He waited for a moment and, receiving no reply, without allowing himself to be disconcerted, continued:
"Perhaps you would rather first take some refreshment24 at the sideboard. Would you care for a biscuit and a thimbleful of old claret or a glass of champagne25?"
He affected26 an exaggerated politeness, the essentially27 Teutonic politeness of the semibarbarians who are anxious to prove that they are familiar with all the niceties of civilization and that they have been initiated28 into every refinement29 of courtesy, even towards a woman whom the right of conquest would permit them to treat more cavalierly. This was one of the points of detail which in the past had most vividly30 enlightened Véronique as to her husband's probable origin.
"Very well," he said, "but you must then authorize32 me to stand, as behooves33 a man of breeding who prides himself on possessing a certain amount of savoir faire. Also pray excuse me for appearing in your presence in this more than careless attire34. Internment-camps and the caves of Sarek are hardly places in which it is easy to renew one's wardrobe."
He was in fact wearing a pair of old patched trousers and a torn red-flannel waistcoat. But over these he had donned a white linen35 robe which was half-closed by a knotted girdle. It was a carefully studied costume; and he accentuated36 its eccentricity37 by adopting theatrical38 attitudes and an air of satisfied negligence39.
Pleased with his preamble40, he began to walk up and down, with his hands behind his back, like a man who is in no hurry and who is taking time for reflection in very serious circumstances. Then he stopped and, in a leisurely41 tone:
"I think, madame, that we shall gain time in the end by devoting a few indispensable minutes to a brief account of our past life together. Don't you agree?"
Véronique did not reply. He therefore began, in the same deliberate tone:
"In the days when you loved me . . ."
She made a gesture of revolt. He insisted:
"Nevertheless, Véronique . . ."
"Oh," she said, in an accent of disgust, "I forbid you! . . . That name from your lips! . . . I will not allow it . . . ."
He smiled and continued, in a tone of condescension42:
"Don't be annoyed with me, madame. Whatever formula I employ, you may be assured of my respect. I therefore resume my remarks. In the days when you loved me, I was, I must admit, a heartless libertine43, a debauchee, not perhaps without a certain style and charm, for I always made the most of my advantages, but possessing none of the qualities of a married man. These qualities I should easily have acquired under your influence, for I loved you to distraction44. You had about you a purity that enraptured45 me, a charm and a simplicity46 which I have never met with in any woman. A little patience on your part, an effort of kindness would have been enough to transform me. Unfortunately, from the very first moment, after a rather melancholy47 engagement, during which you thought of nothing but your father's grief and anger, from the first moment of our marriage there was a complete and irretrievable lack of harmony between us. You had accepted in spite of yourself the bridegroom who had thrust himself upon you. You entertained for your husband no feeling save hatred48 and repulsion. These are things which a man like Vorski does not forgive. So many women and among them some of the proudest had given me proof of my perfect delicacy49 that I had no cause to reproach myself. That the little middle-class person that you were chose to be offended was not my business. Vorski is one of those who obey their instincts and their passions. Those instincts and passions failed to meet with your approval. That, madame, was your affair; it was purely50 a matter of taste. I was free; I resumed my own life. Only . . ."
He interrupted himself for a few seconds and then went on:
"Only, I loved you. And, when, a year later, certain events followed close upon one another, when the loss of your son drove you into a convent, I was left with my love unassuaged, burning and torturing me. What my existence was you can guess for yourself; a series of orgies and violent adventures in which I vainly strove to forget you, followed by sudden fits of hope, clues which were suggested to me, in the pursuit of which I flung myself headlong, only to relapse into everlasting51 discouragement and loneliness. That was how I discovered the whereabouts of your father and your son, that was how I came to know their retreat here, to watch them, to spy upon them, either personally or with the aid of people who were entirely52 devoted53 to me. In this way I was hoping to reach yourself, the sole object of my efforts and the ruling motive54 of all my actions, when war was declared. A week later, having failed in an attempt to cross the frontier, I was imprisoned55 in an internment-camp."
"Oh, the hell that I went through there! Vorski! Vorski, the son of a king, mixed up with all the waiters and pickpockets57 of the Fatherland! Vorski a prisoner, scoffed59 at and loathed60 by all! Vorski unwashed and eaten up with vermin! My God, how I suffered! . . . But let us pass on. What I did, to escape from death, I was entitled to do. If some one else was stabbed in my stead, if some one else was buried in my name in a corner of France, I do not regret it. The choice lay between him and myself; I made my choice. And it was perhaps not only my persistent61 love of life that inspired my action; it was also—and this above all is a new thing—an unexpected dawn which broke in the darkness and which was already dazzling me with its glory. But this is my secret. We will speak of it later, if you force me to. For the moment . . ."
In the face of all this rhetoric62 delivered with the emphasis of an actor rejoicing in his eloquence63 and applauding his own periods, Véronique had retained her impassive attitude. Not one of those lying declarations was able to touch her. She seemed to be thinking of other things.
He went up to her and, to compel her attention, continued, in a more aggressive tone:
"You do not appear to suspect, madame, that my words are extremely serious. They are, however, and they will become even more so. But, before approaching more formidable matters and in the hope of avoiding them altogether, I should like to make an appeal, not to your spirit of conciliation64, for there is no conciliation possible with you, but to your reason, to your sense of reality. After all, you cannot be ignorant of your present position, of the position of your son . . . ."
She was not listening, he was absolutely convinced of it. Doubtless absorbed by the thought of her son, she read not the least meaning into the words that reached her ears. Nevertheless, irritated and unable to conceal65 his impatience66, he continued:
"My offer is a simple one; and I hope and trust that you will not reject it. In François' name and because of my feelings of humanity and compassion67, I ask you to link the present to the past of which I have sketched68 the main features. From the social point of view, the bond that unites us has never been shattered. You are still in name and in the eyes of the law . . ."
He ceased, stared at Véronique and then, clapping his hand violently on her shoulder, shouted:
"Listen, you baggage, can't you! It's Vorski speaking!"
Véronique lost her balance, saved herself by catching69 at the back of a chair and once more stood erect before her adversary70, with her arms folded and her eyes full of scorn.
This time Vorski again succeeded in controlling himself. He had acted under impulse and against his will. His voice retained an imperious and malevolent71 intonation72:
"I repeat that the past still exists. Whether you like it or not, madame, you are Vorski's wife. And it is because of this undeniable fact that I am asking you, if you please, to consider yourself so to-day. Let us understand each other; if I do not aim at obtaining your love or even your friendship, I will not accept either that we should return to our former hostile relations. I do not want the scornful and distant wife that you have been. I want . . . I want a woman . . . a woman who will submit herself . . . who will be the devoted, attentive73, faithful companion . . ."
"The slave," murmured Véronique.
"Yes," he exclaimed, "the slave; you have said it. I don't shrink from words any more than I do from deeds. The slave; and why not? A slave understands her duty, which is blindly to obey, bound hand and foot, perinde ac cadaver74; does the part appeal to you? Will you belong to me body and soul? As for your soul, I don't care a fig75 about that. What I want . . . what I want . . . you know well enough, don't you? What I want is what I have never had. Your husband? Ha, ha, have I ever been your husband? Look back into my life as I will, amid all my seething76 emotions and delights, I do not find a single memory to remind me that there was ever between us anything but the pitiless struggle of two enemies. When I look at you, I see a stranger, a stranger in the past as in the present. Well, since my luck has turned, since I once more have you in my clutches, it shall not be so in the future. It shall not be so to-morrow, nor even to-night, Véronique. I am the master; you must accept the inevitable77. Do you accept?"
He did not wait for her answer and, raising his voice still higher, roared:
"Do you accept? No subterfuges78 or false promises. Do you accept? If so, go on your knees, make the sign of the cross and say, in a firm voice, 'I accept. I will be a consenting wife. I will submit to all your orders and to all your whims79. You are the master.'"
She shrugged her shoulders and made no reply. Vorski gave a start. The veins81 in his forehead swelled82 up. However, he still contained himself:
"Very well. For that matter, I was expecting this. But the consequences of your refusal will be so serious for you that I propose to make one last attempt. Perhaps, after all, your refusal is addressed to the fugitive83 that I am, to the poor beggar that I seem to be; and perhaps the truth will alter your ideas. That truth is dazzling and wonderful. As I told you, an unforeseen dawn has broken through my darkness; and Vorski, son of a king, is bathed in radiant light."
He had a trick of speaking of himself in the third person which Véronique knew of old and which was the sign of his insupportable vanity. She also observed and recognized in his eyes a peculiar84 gleam which was always there at moments of exaltation, a gleam which was obviously due to his drinking habits but in which she seemed to see besides a sign of temporary aberration85. Was he not indeed a sort of madman and had his madness not increased as the years passed?
He continued, and this time Véronique listened.
"I had therefore left here, at the time when the war broke out, a person who is attached to me and who continued the work of watching your father which I had begun. An accident revealed to us the existence of the caves dug under the heath and also one of the entrances to the caves. It was in this safe retreat that I took refuge after my last escape; and it was here that I learnt, through some intercepted86 letters, of your father's investigations87 into the secret of Sarek and the discoveries which he had made. You can understand how my vigilance was redoubled! Particularly because I found in all this story, as it became more and more clear to me, the strangest coincidences and an evident connection with certain details in my own life. Presently doubt was no longer possible. Fate had sent me here to accomplish a task which I alone was able to fulfil . . . and more, a task in which I alone had the right to assist. Do you understand what I mean? Long centuries ago, Vorski was predestined. Vorski was the man appointed by fate, Vorski's name was written in the book of time. Vorski had the necessary qualities, the indispensable means, the requisite88 titles . . . . I was ready, I set to work without delay, conforming ruthlessly to the decrees of destiny. There was no hesitation89 as to the road to be followed to the end; the beacon90 was lighted. I therefore followed the path marked out for me. Vorski has now only to gather the reward of his efforts. Vorski has only to put out his hand. Within reach of his hand fortune, glory, unlimited91 power. In a few hours, Vorski, son of a king, will be king of the world. It is this kingdom that he offers you."
He was becoming more and more declamatory, more and more of the emphatic92 and pompous93 play-actor.
"Will you be a queen, an empress, and soar above other women even as Vorski will dominate other men? Queen by right of gold and power even as you are already queen by right of beauty? Will you? . . . Vorski's slave, but mistress of all those over whom Vorski holds sway? Will you? . . . Understand me clearly; it is not a question of your making a single decision; you have to choose between two. There is, mark you, the alternative to your refusal. Either the kingdom which I am offering, or else . . ."
He paused and then, in a grating tone, completed his sentence:
"Or else the cross!"
Véronique shuddered95. The dreadful word, the dreadful thing appeared once more. And she now knew the name of the unknown executioner!
"The cross!" he repeated, with an atrocious smile of content. "It is for you to choose. On the one hand all the joys and honours of life. On the other hand, death by the most barbarous torture. Choose. There is nothing between the two alternatives. You must select one or the other. And observe that there is no unnecessary cruelty on my part, no vain ostentation96 of authority. I am only the instrument. The order comes from a higher power than mine, it comes from destiny. For the divine will to be accomplished97, Véronique d'Hergemont must die and die on the cross. This is explicitly98 stated. There is no remedy against fate. There is no remedy unless one is Vorski and, like Vorski, is capable of every audacity99, of every form of cunning. If Vorski was able, in the forest of Fontainebleau, to substitute a sham1 Vorski for the real one, if Vorski thus succeeded in escaping the fate which condemned100 him, from his childhood, to die by the knife of a friend, he can certainly discover some stratagem101 by which the divine will is accomplished, while the woman he loves is left alive. But in that case she will have to submit. I offer safety to my bride or death to my foe102. Which are you, my foe or my bride? Which do you choose? Life by my side, with all the joys and honours of life . . . or death?"
"Death," Véronique replied, simply.
He made a threatening gesture:
"It is more than death. It is torture. Which do you choose?"
"Torture."
He insisted, malevolently103:
"But you are not alone! Pause to reflect! There is your son. When you are gone, he will remain. In dying, you leave an orphan104 behind you. Worse than that; in dying, you bequeath him to me. I am his father. I possess full rights. Which do you choose?"
"Death," she said, once more.
"Death for you, very well. But suppose it means death for him? Suppose I bring him here, before you, your François, and put the knife to his throat and ask you for the last time, what will your answer be?"
Véronique closed her eyes. Never before had she suffered so intensely, and Vorski had certainly found the vulnerable spot. Nevertheless she murmured:
"I wish to die."
Vorski flew into a rage, and, resorting straight way to insults, throwing politeness and courtesy to the winds, he shouted:
"Oh, the hussy, how she must hate me! Anything, anything, she accepts anything, even the death of her beloved son, rather than yield to me! A mother killing106 her son! For that's what it is; you're killing your son, so as not to belong to me. You are depriving him of his life, so as not to sacrifice yours to me. Oh, what hatred! No, no, it is impossible. I don't believe in such hatred. Hatred has its limits. A mother like you! No, no, there's something else . . . some love-affair, perhaps? No, no, Véronique's not in love . . . What then? My pity, a weakness on my part? Oh, how little you know me! Vorski show pity! Vorski show weakness! Why, you've seen me at work! Did I flinch107 in the performance of my terrible mission? Was Sarek not devastated108 as it was written? Were the boats not sunk and the people not drowned? Were the sisters Archignat not nailed to the ancient oak-trees? I, I flinch! Listen, when I was a child, with these two hands of mine I wrung109 the necks of dogs and birds, with these two hands I flayed110 goats alive and plucked the live chickens in the poultry-yard. Pity indeed! Do you know what my mother called me? Attila! And, when she was mystically inspired and read the future in these hands of mine or on the tarot-cards, 'Attila Vorski,' that great seer would say, 'you shall be the instrument of Providence111. You shall be the sharp edge of the blade, the point of the dagger112, the bullet in the rifle, the noose113 in the rope. Scourge114 of God! Scourge of God, your name is written at full length in the books of time! It blazes among the stars that shone at your birth. Scourge of God! Scourge of God!' And you, you hope that my eyes will be wet with tears? Nonsense! Does the hangman weep? It is the weak who weep, those who fear lest they be punished, lest their crimes be turned against themselves. But I, I! Our ancestors feared but one thing, that the sky should fall upon their heads. What have I to fear? I am God's accomplice115! He has chosen me among all men. It is God that has inspired me, the God of the fatherland, the old German God, for whom good and evil do not count where the greatness of his sons is at stake. The spirit of evil is within me. I love evil, I thirst after evil. So you shall die, Véronique, and I shall laugh when I see you suffering on the cross!"
He was already laughing. He walked with great strides, stamping noisily on the floor. He lifted his arms to the ceiling; and Véronique, quivering with anguish116, saw the red frenzy117 in his bloodshot eyes.
He took a few more steps and then came up to her and, in a restrained voice, snarling118 with menace:
"On your knees, Véronique, and beseech119 my love! It alone can save you. Vorski knows neither pity nor fear. But he loves you; and his love will stop at nothing. Take advantage of it, Véronique. Appeal to the past. Become the child that you once were; and perhaps one day I shall drag myself at your feet. Véronique, do not repel120 me; a man like me is not to be repelled121. One who loves as I love you, Véronique, as I love you, is not to be defied."
She suppressed a cry. She felt his hated hands on her bare arms. She tried to release herself; but he, much stronger than she, did not let go and continued, in a panting voice:
"Do not repel me . . . it is absurd . . . it is madness . . . . You must know that I am capable of anything . . . Well? . . . The cross is horrible . . . . To see your son dying before your eyes; is that what you want? . . . Accept the inevitable. Vorski will save you. Vorski will give you the most beautiful life . . . . Oh, how you hate me! But no matter: I accept your hatred, I love your hatred, I love your disdainful mouth . . . . I love it more than if it offered itself of its own accord . . . ."
He ceased speaking. An implacable struggle took place between them. Véronique's arms vainly resisted his closer and closer grip. Her strength was failing her; she felt helpless, doomed122 to defeat. Her knees gave way beneath her. Opposite her and quite close, Vorski's eyes seemed filled with blood; and she was breathing the monster's breath.
Then, in her terror, she bit him with all her might; and, profiting by a second of discomfiture123, she released herself with one great effort, leapt back, drew her revolver, and fired once and again.
The two bullets whistled past Vorski's ears and sent fragments flying from the wall behind him. She had fired too quickly, at random124.
In a second he had his arms round her body and, with an irresistible126 effort, bent her backwards127, turned her round and laid her on a sofa. Then he took a cord from his pocket and bound her firmly and brutally128.
There was a moment's respite129 and silence. Vorski wiped the perspiration130 from his forehead, filled himself a tumbler of wine and drank it down at a gulp131.
"That's better," he said, placing his foot on his victim, "and confess that this is best all round. Each one in his place, my beauty; you trussed like a fowl132 and I treading on you at my pleasure. Aha, we're no longer enjoying ourselves so much! We're beginning to understand that it's a serious matter. Ah, you needn't be afraid, you baggage: Vorski's not the man to take advantage of a woman! No, no, that would be to play with fire and to burn with a longing133 which this time would kill me. I'm not such a fool as that. How should I forget you afterwards? One thing only can make me forget and give me my peace of mind; your death. And, since we understand each other on that subject, all's well. For it's settled, isn't it; you want to die?"
"Yes," she said, as firmly as before.
"And you want your son to die?"
"Yes," she said.
He rubbed his hands:
"Excellent! We are agreed; and the time is past for words that mean nothing. The real words remain to be spoken, those which count; for you admit that, so far, all that I have said is mere134 verbiage135, what? Just as all the first part of the adventure, all that you saw happening at Sarek, is only child's play. The real tragedy is beginning, since you are involved in it body and soul; and that's the most terrifying part, my pretty one. Your beautiful eyes have wept, but it is tears of blood that are wanted, you poor darling! But what would you have? Once again, Vorski is not cruel. He obeys a higher power; and destiny is against you. Your tears? Nonsense! You've got to shed a thousand times as many as another. Your death? Fudge! You've got to die a thousand deaths before you die for good. Your poor heart must bleed as never woman's and mother's poor heart bled before. Are you ready, Véronique? You shall hear really cruel words, to be followed perhaps by words more cruel still. Oh, fate is not spoiling you, my pretty one! . . ."
He poured himself out a second glass of wine and emptied it in the same gluttonous136 fashion; then he sat down beside her and, stooping, said, almost in her ear:
"Listen, dearest, I have a confession137 to make to you. I was already married when I met you. Oh, don't be upset! There are greater catastrophes138 for a wife and greater crimes for a husband than bigamy. Well, by my first wife I had a son . . . whom I think you know; you exchanged a few amicable139 remarks with him in the passage of the cells . . . . Between ourselves, he's a regular bad lot, that excellent Raynold, a rascal140 of the worst, in whom I enjoy the pride of discovering, raised to their highest degree, some of my best instincts and some of my chief qualities. He is a second edition to myself, but he already outstrips141 me and now and then alarms me. Whew, what a devil! At his age, a little over fifteen, I was an angel compared with him. Now it so happens that this fine fellow has to take the field against my other son, against our dear François. Yes, such is the whim80 of destiny, which, once again, gives orders and of which, once again, I am the clear-sighted and subtle interpreter. Of course it is not a question of a protracted142 and daily struggle. On the contrary, something short, violent and decisive: a duel143, for instance. That's it, a duel; you understand, a serious duel. Not a turn with the fists, ending in a few bruises144; no, what you call a duel to the death, because one of the two adversaries145 must be left, on the ground, because there must be a victor and a victim, in short, a living combatant and a dead one."
Véronique had turned her head a little and she saw that he was smiling. Never before had she so plainly perceived the madness of that man, who smiled at the thought of a mortal contest between two children both of whom were his sons. The whole thing was so extravagant146 that Véronique, so to speak, did not suffer. It was all outside the limits of suffering.
"There is something better, Véronique," he said, gloating over every syllable147. "There's something better. Yes, destiny has devised a refinement which I dislike, but to which, as a faithful servant, I have to give effect. It has devised that you should be present at the duel. Capital; you, François' mother, must see him fight. And, upon my word, I wonder whether that apparent malevolence148 is not a mercy in disguise. Let us say that you owe it to me, shall we, and that I myself am granting you this unexpected, I will even say, this unjust favour? For, when all is said, though Raynold is more powerful and experienced than François and though, logically, François ought to be beaten, how it must add to his courage and strength to know that he is fighting before his mother's eyes! He will feel like a knight149 errant who stakes all his pride on winning. He will be a son whose victory will save his mother . . . at least, so he will think. Really the advantage is too great; and you can thank me, Véronique, if this duel, as I am sure it will, does not—and I am sure that it will not—make your heart beat a little faster . . . . Unless . . . unless I carry out the infernal programme to the end . . . . Ah, in that case, you poor little thing! . . ."
He gripped her once more and, lifting her to her feet in front of him, pressing his face against hers, he said, in a sudden fit of rage:
"So you won't give in?"
"No, no!" she cried.
"You will never give in?"
"You hate me more than everything?"
"I hate you more than I love my son."
"Yes, my hatred for you."
All Véronique's passion of revolt, all the detestation which she had succeeded in restraining now burst forth152; and, indifferent to what might come of it, she flung the words of hatred full in his face:
"I hate you! I hate you! I would have my son die before my eyes, I would witness his agony, anything rather than the horror of your sight and presence. I hate you! You killed my father! You are an unclean murderer, a halfwitted, savage153 idiot, a criminal lunatic! I hate you!"
He lifted her with an effort, carried her to the window and threw her on the ground, spluttering:
"On your knees! On your knees! The punishment is beginning. You would scoff58 at me, you hussy, would you? Well, you shall see!"
He forced her to her knees and then, pushing her against the lower wall and opening the window, he fastened her head to the rail of the balcony by means of a cord round her neck and under her arms. He ended by gagging her with a scarf:
"And now look!" he cried. "The curtain's going up! Boy François doing his exercises! . . . Oh, you hate me, do you? Oh, you would rather have hell than a kiss from Vorski? Well, my darling, you shall have hell; and I'm arranging a little performance for you, one of my own composing and a highly original one at that! . . . Also, I may tell you, it's too late now to change your mind. The thing's irrevocable. You may beg and entreat154 for mercy as much as you like; it's too late! The duel, followed by the cross; that's the programme. Say your prayers, Véronique, and call on Heaven. Shout for assistance if it amuses you . . . . Listen, I know that your brat155 is expecting a rescuer, a professor of clap-trap, a Don Quixote of adventure. Let him come! Vorski will give him the reception he deserves! The more the merrier! We shall see some fun! . . . And, if the very gods join in the game and take up your defence, I shan't care! It's no longer their business, it's my business. It's no longer a question of Sarek and the treasure and the great secret and all the humbug156 of the God-Stone! It's a question of yourself! You have spat157 in Vorski's face and Vorski is taking his revenge. He is taking his revenge! It is the glorious hour. What exquisite158 joy! . . . To do evil as others do good, lavishly159 and profusely160! To do evil! To kill, torture, break, ruin and destroy! . . . Oh, the fierce delight of being a Vorski!"
He stamped across the room, striking the floor at each step and hustling161 the furniture. His haggard eyes roamed in all directions. He would have liked to begin his work of destruction at once, strangling some victim, giving work to his greedy fingers, executing the incoherent orders of his insane imagination.
Suddenly, he drew a revolver and, brutishly, stupidly, fired bullets into the mirrors, the pictures, the window-panes.
And, still gesticulating, still capering162 about, an ominous163 and sinister164 figure, he opened the door, bellowing165:
"Vorski's having his revenge! Vorski's having his revenge!"
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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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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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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9
ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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10
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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11
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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12
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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13
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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14
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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15
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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16
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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17
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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18
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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19
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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20
wrestler
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| n.摔角选手，扭 | |
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21
posturing
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| 做出某种姿势( posture的现在分词 ) | |
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22
hustings
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| n.竞选活动 | |
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23
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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24
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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25
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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26
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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27
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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28
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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29
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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30
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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31
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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32
authorize
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| v.授权，委任；批准，认可 | |
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33
behooves
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| n.利益，好处( behoof的名词复数 )v.适宜( behoove的第三人称单数 ) | |
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34
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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35
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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36
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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37
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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38
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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39
negligence
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| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
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40
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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41
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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42
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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43
libertine
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| n.淫荡者；adj.放荡的，自由思想的 | |
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44
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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45
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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47
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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48
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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49
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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50
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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51
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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52
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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53
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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54
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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55
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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57
pickpockets
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| n.扒手( pickpocket的名词复数 ) | |
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58
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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59
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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61
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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62
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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63
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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64
conciliation
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| n.调解，调停 | |
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65
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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66
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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67
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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68
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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69
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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70
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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71
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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72
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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73
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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74
cadaver
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| n.尸体 | |
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75
fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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76
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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77
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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78
subterfuges
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| n.（用说谎或欺骗以逃脱责备、困难等的）花招，遁词( subterfuge的名词复数 ) | |
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79
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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80
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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81
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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82
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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83
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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84
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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85
aberration
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| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
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86
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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87
investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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88
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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89
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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90
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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91
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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92
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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93
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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94
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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95
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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96
ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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97
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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98
explicitly
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| ad.明确地，显然地 | |
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99
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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100
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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101
stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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102
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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103
malevolently
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104
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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105
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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106
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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107
flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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108
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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109
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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110
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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111
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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112
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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113
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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114
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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115
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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116
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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117
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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118
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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119
beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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120
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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121
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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122
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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123
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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124
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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125
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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126
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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127
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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128
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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129
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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130
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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131
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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132
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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133
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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134
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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135
verbiage
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| n.冗词；冗长 | |
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136
gluttonous
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| adj.贪吃的，贪婪的 | |
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137
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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138
catastrophes
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| n.灾祸( catastrophe的名词复数 )；灾难；不幸事件；困难 | |
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139
amicable
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| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
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140
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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141
outstrips
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的第三人称单数 ) | |
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142
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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143
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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144
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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145
adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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146
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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147
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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148
malevolence
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| n.恶意，狠毒 | |
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149
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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150
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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151
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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152
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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153
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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154
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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155
brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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156
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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157
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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158
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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159
lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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160
profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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161
hustling
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| 催促（hustle的现在分词形式） | |
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162
capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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163
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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164
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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165
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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