She hardly thought. Sometimes she said to herself that she was about to die; and she already felt the repose6 of the after-life, as one sometimes, amidst a storm, feels in advance the wide peace of the harbour. Hideous7 things were sure to happen between the present moment and the conclusion which would set her free; but her brain refused to dwell on them; and her son's fate in particular elicited8 only momentary9 thoughts, which were immediately dispersed10.
At heart, as there was nothing to enlighten her as to her frame of mind, she was hoping for a miracle. Would the miracle occur in Vorski? Incapable11 of generosity12 though he was, would not the monster hesitate none the less in the presence of an utterly13 unnecessary crime? A father does not kill his son, or at least the act must be brought about by imperative14 reasons; and Vorski had no such reasons to allege15 against a mere16 child whom he did not know and whom he could not hate except with an artificial hatred17.
Her torpor18 was lulled19 by this hope of a miracle. All the sounds which reechoed through the house, sounds of discussions, sounds of hurrying footsteps, seemed to her to indicate not so much the preparations for the events foretold20 as the sign of interruptions which would ruin all Vorski's plans. Had not her dear François said that nothing could any longer separate them from each other and that, at the moment when everything might seem lost and even when everything would be really lost, they must keep their faith intact?
"My François," she repeated, "my darling François, you shall not die . . . we shall see each other again . . . you promised me!"
Out of doors, a blue sky, flecked with a few menacing clouds, hung outspread above the tall oaks. In front of her, beyond that same window at which her father had appeared to her, in the middle of the grass which she had crossed with Honorine on the day of her arrival, a site had been recently cleared and covered with sand, like an arena22. Was it here that her son was to fight? She received the sudden intuition that it must be; and her heart contracted.
"François," she said, "François, have no fear . . . . I shall save you . . . . Oh, forgive me, François darling, forgive me! . . . All this is a punishment for the wrong I once did . . . . It is the atonement . . . . The son is atoning23 for the mother . . . . Forgive me, forgive me! . . ."
At that moment a door opened on the ground-floor and voices ascended24 from the doorstep. She recognized Vorski's voice among them.
"So it's understood," he said. "We shall each go our own way; you two on the left, I on the right. You'll take this kid with you, I'll take the other and we'll meet in the lists. You'll be the seconds, so to speak, of yours and I'll be the second of mine, so that all the rules will be observed."
Véronique shut her eyes, for she did not wish to see her son, who would no doubt be maltreated, led out to fight like a slave. She could hear the creaking of two sets of footsteps following the two circular paths. Vorski was laughing and speechifying.
The groups turned and advanced in opposite directions.
"Don't come any nearer," Vorski ordered. "Let the two adversaries25 take their places. Halt, both of you. Good. And not a word, do you hear? If either of you speaks, I shall cut him down without mercy. Are you ready? Begin!"
So the terrible thing was commencing. In accordance with Vorski's will, the duel26 was about to take place before the mother, the son was about to fight before her face. How could she do other than look? She opened her eyes.
She at once saw the two come to grips and hold each other off. But she did not at once understand what she saw, or at least she failed to understand its exact meaning. She saw the two boys, it was true; but which of them was François and which was Raynold?
"Oh," she stammered27, "it's horrible! . . . And yet . . . no, I must be mistaken . . . . It's not possible . . ."
She was not mistaken. The two boys were dressed alike, in the same velvet28 knickerbockers, the same white-flannel shirts, the same leather belts. But each had his head wrapped in a red-silk scarf, with two holes for the eyes, as in a highwayman's mask.
Which was François? Which was Raynold?
Now she remembered Vorski's inexplicable29 threat. This was what he meant by the programme drawn30 up by himself, this was to what he alluded31 when he spoke32 of a little play of his composing. Not only was the son fighting before the mother, but she did not know which was her son.
It was an infernal refinement33 of cruelty; Vorski himself had said so. No agony could add to Véronique's agony.
The miracle which she had hoped for lay chiefly in herself and in the love which she bore her son. Because her son was fighting before her eyes, she felt certain that her son could not die. She would protect him against the blows and against the ruses34 of the foe35. She would make the dagger36 swerve37, she would ward38 off death from the head which she adored. She would inspire her boy with dauntless energy, with the will to attack, with indefatigable39 strength, with the spirit that foretells40 and seizes the propitious41 moment. But now that both of them were veiled, on which was she to exercise her good influence, for which to pray, against which to rebel?
She knew nothing. There was no clue to enlighten her. One of them was taller, slimmer and lither in his movements. Was this François? The other was more thick-set, stronger and stouter42 in appearance. Was this Raynold? She could not tell. Nothing but a glimpse of a face, or even a fleeting43 expression, could have revealed the truth to her. But how was she to pierce the impenetrable mask?
And the fight continued, more terrible for her than if she had seen her son with his face uncovered.
"Bravo!" cried Vorski, applauding an attack.
He seemed to be following the duel like a connoisseur44, with the affectation of impartiality45 displayed by a good judge of fighting who above all things wants the best man to win. And yet it was one of his sons that he had condemned46 to death.
Facing her stood the two accomplices47, both of them men with brutal48 faces, pointed49 skulls50 and big noses with spectacles. One of them was extremely thin; the other was also thin, but with a swollen51 paunch like a leather bottle. These two did not applaud and remained indifferent, or perhaps even hostile, to the sight before them.
"Capital!" cried Vorski, approvingly. "Well parried! Oh, you're a couple of sturdy fellows and I'm wondering to whom to award the palm."
He pranced52 around the adversaries, urging them on in a hoarse53 voice in which Véronique, remembering certain scenes in the past, seemed to recognize the effects of drink. Nevertheless the poor thing made an effort to stretch out her bound hands towards him; and she moaned under her gag:
"Mercy! Mercy! I can't bear it. Have pity!"
It was impossible for her martyrdom to last. Her heart was beating so violently that it shook her from head to foot; and she was on the point of fainting when an incident occurred that gave her fresh life. One of the boys, after a fairly stubborn tussle54, had jumped back and was swiftly bandaging his right wrist, from which a few drops of blood were trickling55. Véronique seemed to remember seeing in her son's hand the small blue-and-white handkerchief which the boy was using.
She was immediately and irresistibly56 convinced. The boy—it was the more slender and agile57 of the two—had more grace than the other, more distinction, greater elegance58 of movement.
"It's François," she murmured. "Yes, yes, it's he . . . . It's you, isn't it, my darling? I recognize you now . . . . The other is common and heavy . . . . It's you, my darling! . . . Oh, my François, my dearest François!"
In fact, though both were fighting with equal fierceness, this one displayed less savage59 fury and blind rage in his efforts. It was as though he were trying not so much to kill his adversary60 as to wound him and as though his attacks were directed rather to preserving himself from the death that lay in wait for him. Véronique felt alarmed and stammered, as though he could hear her:
"Don't spare him, my darling! He's a monster, too! . . . Oh, dear, if you're generous, you're lost! . . . François, François, mind what you're doing!"
The blade of the dagger had flashed over the head of the one whom she called her son; and she had cried out, under her gag, to warn him. François having avoided the blow, she felt persuaded that her cry had reached his ears; and she continued instinctively61 to put him on his guard and advise him:
"Take a rest . . . . Get your breath . . . . Whatever you do, keep your eyes on him . . . . He's getting ready to do something . . . . He's going to rush at you . . . . Here he comes! Oh, my darling, another inch and he would have stabbed you in the neck! . . . Be careful, darling, he's treacherous63 . . . there's no trick too mean for him to play . . . ."
But the unhappy mother felt, however reluctant she might yet be to admit it, that the one whom she called her son was beginning to lose strength. Certain signs proclaimed a reduced power of resistance, while the other, on the contrary, was gaining in eagerness and vigour64. François retreated until he reached the edge of the arena.
"Hi, you, boy!" grinned Vorski. "You're not thinking of running away, are you? Keep your nerve, damn it! Show some pluck! Remember the conditions!"
The boy rushed forward with renewed zest65; and it was the other's turn to fall back. Vorski clapped his hands, while Véronique murmured:
"It's for me that he's risking his life. The monster must have told him, 'Your mother's fate depends on you. If you win, she's saved.' And he has sworn to win. He knows that I am watching him. He guesses that I am here. He hears me. Bless you, my darling!"
It was the last phase of the duel. Véronique trembled all over, exhausted66 by her emotion and by the too violent alternation of hope and anguish67. Once again her son lost ground and once again he leapt forward. But, in the final struggle that followed, he lost his balance and fell on his back, with his right arm caught under his body.
His adversary at once stooped, pressed his knee on the other's chest and raised his arm. The dagger gleamed in the air.
She flattened69 her breast against the wall, without thinking of the cords which tortured her. Her forehead was bleeding, cut by the sharp corner of the rail, and she felt that she was about to die of the death of her son. Vorski had approached and stood without moving, with a merciless look on his face.
Twenty seconds, thirty seconds passed. With his outstretched left hand, François checked his adversary's attempt. But the victorious70 arm sank lower and lower, the dagger descended71, the point was only an inch or two from the neck.
Vorski stooped. Just then, he was behind Raynold, so that neither Raynold nor François could see him; and he was watching most attentively73, as though intending to intervene at some given moment. But in whose favor would he intervene? Was it his plan to save François?
The point of the dagger touched the neck and must have pricked75 the flesh, but only very slightly, for it was still held back by François' resistance.
Vorski bent lower. He stood over the fighters and did not take his eyes from the deadly point. Suddenly he took a pen-knife from his pocket, opened it and waited. A few more seconds elapsed. The dagger continued to descend72. Then quickly he gashed76 Raynold's shoulder with the blade of his knife.
The boy uttered a cry of pain. His grip at once became relaxed; and, at the same time, François, set free, his right arm released, half rose, resumed the offensive and, without seeing Vorski or understanding what had happened, in an instinctive62 impulse of his whole being escaped from death and revolting against his adversary, struck him full in the face. Raynold in his turn fell like a log.
All this had certainly lasted no longer than ten seconds. But the incident was so unexpected and took Véronique so greatly aback that, not realizing, not knowing that she ought to rejoice, believing rather that she was mistaken and that the real François was dead, murdered by Vorski, the poor thing sank into a huddled77 heap and lost consciousness.
A long, long time elapsed. Then, gradually, Véronique became aware of certain sensations. She heard the clock strike four; and she said:
"It's two hours since François died. For it was he who died."
She had not a doubt that the duel had ended in this way. Vorski would never have allowed François to be the victor and his other son to be killed. And so it was against her own child that she had sent up wishes and for the monster that she had prayed!
"François is dead," she repeated. "Vorski has killed him."
The door opened and she heard Vorski's voice. He entered, with an unsteady gait:
"A thousand pardons, dear lady, but I think Vorski must have fallen asleep. It's your father's fault, Véronique! He had hidden away in his cellar some confounded Saumur which Conrad and Otto discovered and which has fuddled me a bit! But don't cry; we shall make up for lost time . . . . Besides everything must be settled by midnight. So . . ."
He had come nearer; and he now exclaimed:
"What! Did that rascal78 of a Vorski leave you tied up? What a brute79 that Vorski is! And how uncomfortable you must be! . . . Hang it all, how pale you are! I say, look here, you're not dead, are you? That would be a nasty trick to play us!"
"Capital! We still loathe81 our little Vorski! Then that's all right and there's plenty of reserve strength. You'll hold out to the end, Véronique."
He listened:
"What is it? Who's calling me? Is it you, Otto? Come up . . . . Well, Otto, what news? I've been asleep, you know. That damned Saumur wine! . . ."
Otto, one of the two accomplices, entered the room at a run. He was the one whose paunch bulged82 so oddly.
"What news?" he exclaimed. "Why, this: I've seen some one on the island!"
Vorski began to laugh:
"You're drunk, Otto. That damned Saumur wine . . ."
"I'm not drunk. I saw . . . and so did Conrad . . ."
"Oho," said Vorski, more seriously, "if Conrad was with you! Well, what did you see?"
"A white figure, which hid when we came along."
"Where?"
"On the other side of the island then?"
"Yes."
"All right. We'll take our precautions."
"How? There may be several of them."
"I don't care if there are ten of them; it would make no difference. Where's Conrad?"
"By the foot-bridge which we put in the place of the bridge that was burnt down. He's keeping watch from there."
"Conrad is a clever one. When the bridge was burnt, we were kept on the other side; if the foot-bridge is burnt, it'll produce the same hindrance84. Véronique, I really believe they're coming to rescue you. It's the miracle you expected, the assistance you hoped for. But it's too late, my beauty."
He untied85 the bonds that fastened her to the balcony, carried her to the sofa and loosened the gag slightly:
"Sleep, my wench," he said. "Get what rest you can. You're only half-way to Golgotha yet; and the last bit of the ascent86 will be the hardest."
He went away jesting; and Véronique heard the two men exchange a few sentences which proved to her that Otto and Conrad were only supers who knew nothing of the business in hand:
"Who's this wretched woman whom you're persecuting87?" asked Otto.
"That doesn't concern you."
"Still, Conrad and I would like to know something about it."
"Lord, why?"
"Oh, just because!"
"Conrad and you are a pair of fools," replied Vorski. "When I took you into my service and helped you to escape with me, I told you all I could of my plans. You accepted my conditions. It was your look-out. You've got to see this thing through now."
"And if we don't?"
"If you don't, beware of the consequences. I don't like shirkers . . . ."
More hours passed. Nothing, it seemed to Véronique, could any longer save her from the end for which she craved88 with all her heart. She no longer hoped for the intervention89 of which Otto had spoken. In reality she was not thinking at all. Her son was dead; and she had no other wish than to join him without delay, even at the cost of the most dreadful suffering. What did that suffering matter to her? There are limits to the strength of those who are tortured; and she was so near to reaching those limits that her agony would not last long.
She began to pray. Once more the memory of the past forced itself on her mind; and the fault which she had committed seemed to her the cause of all the misfortunes heaped upon her.
And, while praying, exhausted, harassed90, in a state of nervous extenuation91 which left her indifferent to anything that might happen, she fell asleep.
Vorski's return did not even rouse her. He had to shake her:
"The hour is at hand, my girl. Say your prayers."
He spoke low, so that his assistants might not hear what he said; and, whispering in her ear, he told her things of long ago, insignificant92 trifles which he dribbled93 out in a thick tone. At last he called out:
They sat down to table, but Vorski stood up again at once:
"Don't look at me, my girl. Your eyes worry me. What do you expect? My conscience doesn't worry me when I'm alone, but it gets worked up when a fine pair of eyes like yours go right through me. Lower your lids, my pretty one."
He bound Véronique's eyes with a handkerchief which he knotted behind her head. But this did not satisfy him; and he unhooked a muslin curtain from the window, wrapped her whole head in it and wound it round her neck. Then he sat down again to eat and drink.
The three of them hardly spoke and said not a word of their trip across the island, nor of the duel of the afternoon. In any case, these were details which did not interest Véronique and which, even if she had paid attention to them, would not have aroused her. Everything had become indifferent to her. The words reached her ears but assumed no definite meaning. She thought of nothing but dying.
When it was dark, Vorski gave the signal for departure.
"More so than ever. What's your reason for asking?"
"Nothing . . . . But, all the same . . ."
"All the same what?"
"Well, I may as well out with it, we only half like the job."
"You don't mean to say so! And you only discover it now, my man, after stringing up the sisters Archignat and treating it as a lark97!"
"I was drunk that day. You made us drink."
"Well, get boozed if you want to, old cock. Here, take the brandy-bottle. Fill your flask98 and shut up . . . . Conrad, is the stretcher ready?"
He turned to his victim:
"A polite attention for you, my dear . . . . Two old stilts99 of your brat's, fastened together with straps100 . . . . It's very practical and comfortable."
At half-past eight, the grim procession set out, with Vorski at the head, carrying a lantern. The accomplices followed with the litter.
The clouds which had been threatening all the afternoon had now gathered and were rolling, thick and black, over the island. The night was falling swiftly. A stormy wind was blowing and made the candle flicker101 in the lantern.
"What's that? Look. It's a dog, isn't it?"
"It's the boy's mongrel," said Otto.
"Oh, of course, the famous All's Well! The brute's come in the nick of time. Everything's going jolly well! Just wait a bit, you mangy beast!"
He aimed a kick at the dog. All's Well avoided it and keeping out of reach, continued to accompany the procession, giving a muffled105 bark at intervals106.
It was a rough ascent; and every moment one of the three men, leaving the invisible path that skirted the grass in front of the house and led to the open space by the Fairies' Dolmen, tripped in the brambles or in the runners of ivy107.
"Halt!" Vorski commanded. "Stop and take breath, my lads. Otto, hand us your flask. My heart's turning upside down."
He took a long pull:
"Your turn, Otto . . . . What, don't you want to? What's the matter with you?"
"I'm thinking that there are people on the island who are looking for us."
"Let them look!"
"And suppose they come by boat and climb that path in the cliffs which the woman and the boy were trying to escape by this morning, the path we found?"
"What we have to fear is an attack by land, not by sea. Well, the foot-bridge is burnt. There's no means of communication."
"Unless they find the entrance to the cells, on the Black Heath, and follow the tunnel to this place."
"Have they found the entrance?"
"I don't know."
"Well, granting that they do find it, haven't we just blocked the exit on this side, broken down the staircase, thrown everything topsy-turvy? To clear it will take them half a day and more. Whereas at midnight the thing'll be done and by daybreak we shall be far away from Sarek."
"It'll be done, it'll be done; that is to say, we shall have one more murder on our conscience. But . . ."
"But what?"
"What about the treasure?"
"Ah, the treasure! You've got it out at last! Well, make your mind easy: your shares of it are as good as in your pockets."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Rather! Do you imagine that I'm staying here and doing all this dirty work for fun?"
They resumed their progress. After a quarter of an hour, a few drops of rain began to fall. There was a clap of thunder. The storm still appeared to be some distance away.
They had difficulty in completing the rough ascent: and Vorski had to help his companions.
"At last!" he said. "We're there. Otto, hand me the flask. That's it. Thanks."
They had laid their victim at the foot of the oak which had had its lower branches removed. A flash of light revealed the inscription108, "V. d'H." Vorski picked up a rope, which had been left there in readiness, and set a ladder against the trunk of the tree:
"We'll do as we did with the sisters Archignat," he said. "I'll pass the cord over the big branch which we left intact. That will serve as a pulley."
He interrupted himself and jumped to one side. Something extraordinary had just happened.
"What's that?" he whispered. "What was it? Did you hear that whistling sound?"
"Yes," said Conrad, "it grazed my ear. One would have said it was a bullet."
"You're mad."
"I heard it too," said Otto, "and it seems to me that it hit the tree."
"What tree?"
"The oak, of course! It was as though somebody had fired at us."
"There was no report."
"A stone, then; a stone that must have hit the oak."
"We'll soon see," said Vorski.
He turned his lantern and at once let fly an oath:
"Damn it! Look, there, under the lettering."
They looked. An arrow was fixed109 at the spot to which he pointed. Its feathered end was still quivering.
"An arrow!" gasped Conrad. "How is it possible? An arrow!"
And Otto spluttered:
"We're done for! It's us they were aiming at!"
"The man who took aim at us can't be far off," Vorski observed. "Keep your eyes open. We'll have a look."
He swung the light in a circle which penetrated110 the surrounding darkness.
"Stop," said Conrad, eagerly. "A little more to the right. Do you see?"
"Yes, yes, I see."
Thirty yards from where they stood, in the direction of the Calvary of the Flowers, just beyond the[Pg 238] blasted oak, they saw something white, a figure which was trying, at least so it seemed, to hide behind a clump111 of bushes.
"Not a word, not a movement," Vorski ordered. "Do nothing to let him think that we've discovered him. Conrad, come with me. You, Otto, stay here, with your revolver in your hand, and keep a good watch. If they try to come near and to release her ladyship, fire two shots and we'll run back at once. Is that understood?"
"Quite."
Vorski bent over Véronique and loosened the veil slightly. Her eyes and mouth were still concealed112 by their bandages. She was breathing with difficulty; the pulse was weak and slow.
"We have time," he muttered, "but we must hurry if we want her to die according to plan. In any case she doesn't seem to be in pain. She has lost all consciousness."
He put down the lantern and then softly, followed by his assistant, stole towards the white figure, both of them choosing the places where the shadow was densest113.
But he soon became aware, on the one hand, that the figure, which had seemed stationary114, was moving as he himself moved forward, so that the space between them remained the same, and, on the other hand, that it was escorted by a small black figure frisking by its side.
He quickened his pace: the distance did not decrease. He ran: the figure in front of him ran likewise. And the strangest part of it was that they heard no sound of leaves disturbed or of ground trampled117 by the mysterious person running ahead of them.
"Damn it!" swore Vorski. "He's laughing at us. Suppose we fired at him, Conrad?"
"He's too far. The bullets wouldn't reach him."
"All the same, we're not going to . . ."
The unknown individual led them to the end of the island and then down to the entrance of the tunnel, passed close to the Priory, skirted the west cliff and reached the foot-bridge, some of the planks118 of which were still smouldering. Then he branched off, passed back by the other side of the house and went up the grassy119 slope.
Vorski could not control his rage. However hard he tried, he was unable to gain an inch of ground: and the pursuit had lasted fifteen minutes. He ended by vituperating the enemy:
"Stop, can't you? Show yourself a man! . . . What are you trying to do? Lead us into a trap? What for? . . . Is it her ladyship you're trying to save? It's not worth while, in the state she's in. Oh, you damned, smart bounder, if I could only get hold of you!"
Suddenly Conrad seized him by the skirt of his robe.
"What is it, Conrad?"
"Look. He seems to be stopping."
As Conrad suggested, the white figure for the first time was becoming more and more clearly visible in the darkness and they were able to distinguish, through the leaves of a thicket121, its present attitude, with the arms slightly opened, the back[Pg 240] bowed, the legs bent and apparently122 crossed on the ground.
"He must have fallen," said Conrad.
Vorski, after running forward, shouted:
"Am I to shoot, you scum? I've got the drop on you. Hands up, or I fire."
Nothing stirred.
"It's your own look-out! If you show fight, you're a dead man. I shall count three and fire."
He walked to twenty yards of the figure and counted, with outstretched arm:
"One . . . two . . . . Are you ready, Conrad? Fire!"
The two bullets were discharged at the same time.
"Ah, now you've got it, you rascal! I'll show you the stuff that Vorski's made of! You've given me a pretty run, you oaf! Well, your account's settled!"
After the first few steps, he slackened his speed, for fear of a surprise. The figure did not move; and Vorski, on coming close, saw that it had the limp and misshapen look of a dead man, of a corpse125. Nothing remained but to fall upon it. This was what Vorski did, laughing and jesting:
"A good bag, Conrad! Let's pick up the game."
But he was greatly surprised, on picking up the game, to feel in his hands nothing but an almost impalpable quarry126, consisting, to tell the truth, of just a white robe, with no one inside it, the owner of the robe having taken flight in good time, after hooking it to the thorns of a thicket. As for the dog, he had disappeared.
"Damn and blast it!" roared Vorski. "He's cheated us, the ruffian! But why, hang it, why?"
Venting127 his rage in the stupid fashion that was his habit, he was stamping on the piece of stuff, when a thought struck him:
"Why? Because, damn it, as I said just now, it's a trap: a trap to get us away from her ladyship while his friends went for Otto! Oh, what an ass21 I've been!"
He started to go back in the dark and, as soon as he was able to see the dolmen, he called out:
"Otto! Otto!"
"Halt! Who goes there?" answered Otto, in a scared voice.
"It's me . . . . Damn you, don't fire!"
"Who's there? You?"
"Yes, yes, you fool."
"But the two shots?"
"Nothing . . . . A mistake . . . . We'll tell you about it . . . ."
He was now close to the oak and, at once, taking up the lantern, turned its rays upon his victim. She had not moved and lay stretched at the foot of the tree, with her head wrapped in the veil.
"Ah!" he said. "I breathe again! Hang it, how frightened I was!"
"Frightened of what?"
"Of their taking her from us, of course!"
"Well, wasn't I here?"
"Oh, you! You've got no more pluck than a louse . . . and, if they had gone for you . . ."
"I should have fired, at any rate. You'd have heard the signal."
"May be. Well, did nothing happen?"
"Nothing at all."
"Her ladyship didn't carry on too much?"
"And then?"
"You brute!" exclaimed Vorski. "If you've killed her, you're a dead man."
He plumped down and glued his ear to his unfortunate victim's breast.
"No," he said, presently, "her heart is still beating. But that may not last long. To work, lads. It must all be over in ten minutes."
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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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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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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awaken
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repose
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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12
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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13
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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14
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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allege
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| vt.宣称，申述，主张，断言 | |
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16
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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17
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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18
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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19
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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20
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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22
arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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23
atoning
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的现在分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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24
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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26
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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27
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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29
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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30
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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31
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
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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33
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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34
ruses
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| n.诡计，计策( ruse的名词复数 ) | |
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35
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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36
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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37
swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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38
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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39
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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40
foretells
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的第三人称单数 ) | |
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41
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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42
stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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43
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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44
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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45
impartiality
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| n. 公平, 无私, 不偏 | |
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46
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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47
accomplices
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| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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48
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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49
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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50
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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51
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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52
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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54
tussle
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| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
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55
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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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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57
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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58
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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59
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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60
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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61
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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62
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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63
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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64
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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65
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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66
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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67
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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68
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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69
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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70
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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71
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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72
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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73
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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74
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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76
gashed
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| v.划伤，割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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78
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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79
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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80
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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81
loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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82
bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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83
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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84
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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85
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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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
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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88
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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89
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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90
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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91
extenuation
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| n.减轻罪孽的借口；酌情减轻；细 | |
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92
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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93
dribbled
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| v.流口水( dribble的过去式和过去分词 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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94
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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95
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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96
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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97
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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98
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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99
stilts
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| n.（支撑建筑物高出地面或水面的）桩子，支柱( stilt的名词复数 )；高跷 | |
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100
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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101
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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102
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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103
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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105
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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106
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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107
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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108
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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109
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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110
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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111
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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112
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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113
densest
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| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
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114
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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115
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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116
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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117
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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118
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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119
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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120
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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121
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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122
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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123
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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124
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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125
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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126
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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127
venting
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| 消除； 泄去； 排去； 通风 | |
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128
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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129
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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130
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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