Those who have seen the charming little chapel1 of Brou know that it is known as one of the hundred marvels2 of the Renaissance3; those who have not seen it must have often heard it said. Roland, who had counted on doing the honors of this historic gem4 to Sir John, and who had not seen it for the last seven or eight years, was much disappointed when, on arriving in front of the building, he found the niches5 of the saints empty and the carved figures of the portal decapitated.
He asked for the sexton; people laughed in his face. There was no longer a sexton. He inquired to whom he should go for the keys. They replied that the captain of the gendarmerie had them. The captain was not far off, for the cloister6 adjoining the church had been converted into a barrack.
Roland went up to the captain’s room and made himself known as Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp. The captain, with the placid7 obedience8 of a subaltern to his superior officer, gave him the keys and followed behind him. Sir John was waiting before the porch, admiring, in spite of the mutilation to which they had been subjected, the admirable details of the frontal.
Roland opened the door and started back in astonishment9. The church was literally10 stuffed with hay like a cannon11 charged to the muzzle12.
“What does this mean?” he asked the captain of the gendarmerie.
“A precaution taken by the municipality.”
“A precaution taken by the municipality?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“To save the church. They were going to demolish13 it; but the mayor issued a decree declaring that, in expiation14 of the false worship for which it had served, it should be used to store fodder15.”
Roland burst out laughing, and, turning to Sir John, he said: “My dear Sir John, the church was well worth seeing, but I think what this gentleman has just told us is no less curious. You can always find—at Strasburg, Cologne, or Milan—churches or cathedrals to equal the chapel of Brou; but where will you find an administration idiotic16 enough to destroy such a masterpiece, and a mayor clever enough to turn it into a barn? A thousand thanks, captain. Here are your keys.”
“As I was saying at Avignon, the first time I had the pleasure of seeing you, my dear Roland,” replied Sir John, “the French are a most amusing people.”
“This time, my lord, you are too polite,” replied Roland. “Idiotic is the word. Listen. I can understand the political cataclysms17 which have convulsed society for the last thousand years; I can understand the communes, the pastorals, the Jacquerie, the maillotins, the Saint Bartholomew, the League, the Fronde, the dragonnades, the Revolution; I can understand the 14th of July, the 5th and 6th of October, the 20th of June, the 10th of August, the 2d and 3d of September, the 21st of January, the 31st of May, the 30th of October, and the 9th Thermidor; I can understand the egregious18 torch of civil wars, which inflames19 instead of soothing20 the blood; I can understand the tidal wave of revolution, sweeping21 on with its flux22, that nothing can arrest, and its reflux, which carries with it the ruins of the institution which it has itself shattered. I can understand all that, but lance against lance, sword against sword, men against men, a people against a people! I can understand the deadly rage of the victors, the sanguinary reaction of the vanquished23, the political volcanoes which rumble24 in the bowels25 of the globe, shake the earth, topple over thrones, upset monarchies26, and roll heads and crowns on the scaffold. But what I cannot understand is this mutilation of the granite27, this placing of monuments beyond the pale of the law, the destruction of inanimate things, which belong neither to those who destroy them nor to the epoch28 in which they are destroyed; this pillage29 of the gigantic library where the antiquarian can read the archeological history of a country. Oh! the vandals, the barbarians30! Worse than that, the idiots! who revenge the Borgia crimes and the debauches of Louis XV. on stone. How well those Pharaohs, Menæs, and Cheops knew man as the most perversive, destructive and evil of animals! They who built their pyramids, not with carved traceries, nor lacy spires31, but with solid blocks of granite fifty feet square! How they must have laughed in the depths of those sepulchres as they watched Time dull its scythe32 and pashas wear out their nails in vain against them. Let us build pyramids, my dear Sir John. They are not difficult as architecture, nor beautiful as art, but they are solid; and that enables a general to say four thousand years later: ‘Soldiers, from the apex33 of these monuments forty centuries are watching you!’ On my honor, my lord, I long to meet a windmill this moment that I might tilt34 against it.”
And Roland, bursting into his accustomed laugh, dragged Sir John in the direction of the château. But Sir John stopped him and asked: “Is there nothing else to see in the city except the church?”
“Formerly, my lord,” replied Roland, “before they made a hay-loft of it, I should have asked you to come down with me into the vaults35 of the Dukes of Savoy. We could have hunted for that subterranean36 passage, nearly three miles long, which is said to exist there, and which, according to these rumors38, communicates with the grotto39 of Ceyzeriat. Please observe, I should never offer such a pleasure trip except to an Englishman; it would have been like a scene from your celebrated40 Anne Radcliffe in the ‘Mysteries of Udolpho.’ But, as you see, that is impossible, so we will have to be satisfied with our regrets. Come.”
“Where are we going?”
“Faith, I don’t know. Ten years ago I should have taken you to the farms where they fatten41 pullets. The pullets of Bresse, you must know, have a European reputation. Bourg was an annex42 to the great coop of Strasburg. But during the Terror, as you can readily imagine, these fatteners of poultry43 shut up shop. You earned the reputation of being an aristocrat44 if you ate a pullet, and you know the fraternal refrain: ‘Ah, ça ira, ça ira—the aristocrats45 to the lantern!’ After Robespierre’s downfall they opened up again; but since the 18th of Fructidor, France has been commanded to fast, from fowls46 and all. Never mind; come on, anyway. In default of pullets, I can show you one thing, the square where they executed those who ate them. But since I was last in the town the streets have changed their names. I know the way, but I don’t know the names.”
“Look here!” demanded Sir John; “aren’t you a Republican?”
“I not a Republican? Come, come! Quite to the contrary. I consider myself an excellent Republican. I am quite capable of burning off my hand, like Mucius Scævola, or jumping into the gulf47 like Curtius to save the Republic; but I have, unluckily, a keen sense of the ridiculous. In spite of myself, the absurdity48 of things catches me in the side and tickles49 me till I nearly die of laughing. I am willing to accept the Constitution of 1791; but when poor Hérault de Séchelles wrote to the superintendent50 of the National Library to send him a copy of the laws of Minos, so that he could model his constitution on that of the Isle51 of Crete, I thought it was going rather far, and that we might very well have been content with those of Lycurgus. I find January, February, and March, mythological52 as they were, quite as good as Nivose, Pluviose, and Ventose. I can’t understand why, when one was called Antoine or Chrystomome in 1789, he should be called Brutus or Cassius in 1793. Here, for example, my lord, is an honest street, which was called the Rue53 des Halles (Market Street). There was nothing indecent or aristocratic about that, was there? Well, now it is called—Just wait (Roland read the inscription). Well, now it is called the Rue de la Révolution. Here’s another, which used to be called Notre Dame54; it is now the Rue du Temple. Why Rue du Temple? Probably to perpetuate55 the memory of that place where the infamous56 Simon tried to teach cobbling to the heir of sixty-three kings. Don’t quarrel with me if I am mistaken by one or two! Now here’s a third; it was named Crèvecoeur, a name famous throughout Bresse, Burgundy and Flanders. It is now the Rue de la Federation57. Federation is a fine thing, but Crèvecoeur was a fine name. And then you see to-day it leads straight to the Place de la Guillotine, which is, in my opinion, all wrong. I don’t want any streets that lead to such places. This one has its advantages; it is only about a hundred feet from the prison, which economized58 and still economizes59 the tumbrel and the horse of M. de Bourg. By the way, have you noticed that the executioner remains60 noble and keeps his title? For the rest, the square is excellently arranged for spectators, and my ancestor, Montrevel, whose name it bears, doubtless, foreseeing its ultimate destiny, solved the great problem, still unsolved by the theatres, of being able to see well from every nook and corner. If ever they cut off my head, which, considering the times in which we are living, would in no wise be surprising, I shall have but one regret: that of being less well-placed and seeing less than the others. Now let us go up these steps. Here we are in the Place des Lices. Our Revolutionists left it its name, because in all probability they don’t know what it means. I don’t know much better than they, but I think I remember that a certain Sieur d’Estavayer challenged some Flemish count—I don’t know who—and that the combat took place in this square. Now, my dear fellow, here is the prison, which ought to give you some idea of human vicissitudes61. Gil Blas didn’t change his condition more often than this monument its purposes. Before Cæsar it was a Gaelic temple; Cæsar converted it into a Roman fortress62; an unknown architect transformed it into a military work during the Middle Ages; the Knights63 of Baye, following Cæsar’s example, re-made it into a fortress; the princes of Savoy used it for a residence; the aunt of Charles V. lived here when she came to visit her church at Brou, which she never had the satisfaction of seeing finished. Finally, after the treaty of Lyons, when Bresse was returned to France, it was utilized64 both as a prison and a court-house. Wait for me a moment, my lord, if you dislike the squeaking65 of hinges and the grating of bolts. I have a visit to pay to a certain cell.”
“The grating of bolts and the squeaking of hinges is not a very enlivening sound, but no matter. Since you were kind enough to undertake my education, show me your dungeon66.”
“Very well, then. Come in quickly. I see a crowd of persons who look as if they want to speak to me.”
In fact, little by little, a sort of rumor37 seemed to spread throughout the town. People emerged from the houses, forming groups in the streets, and they all watched Roland with curiosity. He rang the bell of the gate, situated67 then where it is now, but opening into the prison yard. A jailer opened it for them.
“Ah, ah! so you are still here, Father Courtois?” asked the young man. Then, turning to Sir John, he added: “A fine name for a jailer, isn’t it, my lord?”
“How is it,” he asked through the grating, “that you know my name, when I don’t know yours?”
“Good! I not only know your name, but also your opinions. You are an old royalist, Père Courtois.”
“Monsieur,” said the jailer, terrified, “don’t make bad jokes if you please, and say what you want.”
“Well, my good Father Courtois, I would like to visit the cell where they put my mother and sister, Madame and Mademoiselle Montrevel.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the gatekeeper, “so it’s you, M. Louis? You may well say that I know you. What a fine, handsome young man you’ve grown to be!”
“Do you think so, Father Courtois? Well, I can return the compliment. Your daughter Charlotte is, on my word, a beautiful girl. Charlotte is my sister’s maid, Sir John.”
“And she is very happy over it. She is better off there than here, M. Roland. Is it true that you are General Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp?”
“Alas! I have that honor, Courtois. You would prefer me to be Comte d’Artois’s aide-de-camp, or that of M. le Duc of Angoulême?”
“Oh, do be quiet, M. Louis!” Then putting his lips to the young man’s ear, “Tell me, is it true?”
“What, Father Courtois?”
“That General Bonaparte passed through Lyons yesterday?”
“There must be some truth in the rumor, for this is the second time that I have heard it. Ah! I understand now. These good people who were watching me so curiously69 apparently70 wanted to question me. They were like you, Father Courtois: they want to know what to make of General Bonaparte’s arrival.”
“Do you know what they say, M. Louis?”
“Still another rumor, Father Courtois?”
“I should think so, but they only whisper it.”
“What is it?”
“They say that he has come to demand the throne of his Majesty71 Louis XVIII. from the Directory and the king’s return to it; and that if Citizen Gohier as president doesn’t give it up of his own accord he will take it by force.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed the young officer with an incredulous air bordering on irony72. But Father Courtois insisted on his news with an affirmative nod.
“Possibly,” said the young man; “but as for that, it’s news for me. And now that you know me, will you open the gate?”
“Of course I will. I should think so. What the devil am I about?” and the jailer opened the gate with an eagerness equalling his former reluctance73. The young man entered, and Sir John followed him. The jailer locked the gate carefully, then he turned, followed by Roland and the Englishman in turn. The latter was beginning to get accustomed to his young friend’s erratic74 character. The spleen he saw in Roland was misanthropy, without the sulkiness of Timon or the wit of Alceste.
The jailer crossed the yard, which was separated from the law courts by a wall fifteen feet high, with an opening let into the middle of the receding75 wall, closed by a massive oaken door, to admit prisoners without taking them round by the street. The jailer, we say, crossed the yard to a winding76 stairway in the left angle of the courtyard which led to the interior of the prison.
If we insist upon these details, it is because we shall be obliged to return to this spot later, and we do not wish it to be wholly unfamiliar77 to our readers when that time comes.
These steps led first to the ante-chamber of the prison, that is to say to the porter’s hall of the lower court-room. From that hall ten steps led down into an inner court, separated from a third, which was that of the prisoners, by a wall similar to the one we have described, only this one had three doors. At the further end of the courtyard a passage led to the jailer’s own room, which gave into a second passage, on which were the cells which were picturesquely78 styled cages. The jailer paused before the first of these cages and said, striking the door:
“This is where I put madame, your mother, and your sister, so that if the dear ladies wanted either Charlotte or myself, they need but knock.”
“Is there any one in the cell?”
“No one”
“Then please open the door. My friend, Lord Tanlay, is a philanthropic Englishman who is travelling about to see if the French prisons are more comfortable than the English ones. Enter, Sir John.”
Père Courtois having opened the door, Roland pushed Sir John into a perfectly79 square cell measuring ten or twelve feet each way.
“Oh, oh!” exclaimed Sir John, “this is lugubrious80.”
“Do you think so? Well, my dear friend, this is where my mother, the noblest woman in the world, and my sister, whom you know, spent six weeks with a prospect81 of leaving it only to make the trip to the Place de Bastion. Just think, that was five years ago, so my sister was scarcely twelve.”
“But what crime had they committed?”
“Oh! a monstrous82 crime. At the anniversary festival with which the town of Bourg considered proper to commemorate83 the death of the ‘Friend of the People,’ my mother refused to permit my sister to represent one of the virgins84 who bore the tears of France in vases. What will you! Poor woman, she thought she had done enough for her country in giving it the blood of her son and her husband, which was flowing in Italy and Germany. She was mistaken. Her country, as it seems, claimed further the tears of her daughter. She thought that too much, especially as those tears were to flow for the citizen Marat. The result was that on the very evening of the celebration, during the enthusiastic exaltation, my mother was declared accused. Fortunately Bourg had not attained85 the celerity of Paris. A friend of ours, an official in the record-office, kept the affair dragging, until one fine day the fall and death of Robespierre were made known. That interrupted a good many things, among others the guillotinades. Our friend convinced the authorities that the wind blowing from Paris had veered86 toward clemency87; they waited fifteen days, and on the sixteenth they told my mother and sister that they were free. So you understand, my friend—and this involves the most profound philosophical88 reflection—so that if Mademoiselle Teresa Cabarrus had not come from Spain, if she had not married M. Fontenay, parliamentary counsellor; had she not been arrested and brought before the pro-consul Tallien, son of the Marquis de Bercy’s butler, ex-notary’s clerk, ex-foreman of a printing-shop, ex-porter, ex-secretary to the Commune of Paris temporarily at Bordeaux; and had the ex-pro-consul not become enamored of her, and had she not been imprisoned89, and if on the ninth of Thermidor she had not found means to send a dagger90 with these words: ‘Unless the tyrant91 dies to-day, I die to-morrow’; had not Saint-Just been arrested in the midst of his discourse92; had not Robespierre, on that day, had a frog in his throat; had not Garnier de l’Aube exclaimed: ‘It is the blood of Danton choking you!’ had not Louchet shouted for his arrest; had he not been arrested, released by the Commune, recaptured in spite of this, had his jaw93 broken by a pistol shot, and been executed next day—my mother would, in all probability, have had her head cut off for refusing to allow her daughter to weep for citizen Marat in one of the twelve lachrymal urns94 which Bourg was desirous of filling with its tears. Good-by, Courtois. You are a worthy95 man. You gave my mother and sister a little water to put with their wine, a little meat to eat with their bread, a little hope to fill their hearts; you lent them your daughter that they might not have to sweep their cell themselves. That deserves a fortune. Unfortunately I am not rich; but here are fifty louis I happen to have with me. Come, my lord.”
And the young man carried off Sir John before the jailer, recovered from his surprise and found time either to thank Roland or refuse the fifty louis; which, it must be said, would have been a remarkable96 proof of disinterestedness97 in a jailer, especially when that jailer’s opinions were opposed to those of the government he served.
Leaving the prison, Roland and Sir John found the Place des Lices crowded with people who had heard of General Bonaparte’s return to France, and were shouting “Vive Bonaparte!” at the top of their lungs—some because they really admired the victor of Arcola, Rivoli, and the Pyramids, others because they had been told, like Père Courtois, that this same victor had vanquished only that Louis XVIII. might profit by his victories.
Roland and Sir John, having now visited all that the town of Bourg offered of interest, returned to the Château des Noires-Fontaines, which they reached before long. Madame de Montrevel and Amélie had gone out. Roland installed Sir John in an easy chair, asking him to wait a few minutes for him. At the end of five minutes he returned with a sort of pamphlet of gray paper, very badly printed, in his hand.
“My dear fellow,” said he, “you seemed to have some doubts about the authenticity98 of that festival which I just mentioned, and which nearly cost my mother and sister their lives, so I bring you the programme. Read it, and while you are doing so I will go and see what they have been doing with my dogs; for I presume that you would rather hold me quit of our fishing expedition in favor of a hunt.”
He went out, leaving in Sir John’s hands a copy of the decree of the municipality of the town of Bourg, instituting the funeral rites99 in honor of Marat, on the anniversary of his death.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
marvels
|
|
| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
renaissance
|
|
| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
gem
|
|
| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
niches
|
|
| 壁龛( niche的名词复数 )； 合适的位置[工作等]； （产品的）商机； 生态位（一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
cloister
|
|
| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
cannon
|
|
| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
muzzle
|
|
| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
demolish
|
|
| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
expiation
|
|
| n.赎罪，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
fodder
|
|
| n.草料；炮灰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
idiotic
|
|
| adj.白痴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
cataclysms
|
|
| n.（突然降临的）大灾难( cataclysm的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
18
egregious
|
|
| adj.非常的，过分的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
inflames
|
|
| v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
flux
|
|
| n.流动；不断的改变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
vanquished
|
|
| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
rumble
|
|
| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
bowels
|
|
| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
monarchies
|
|
| n. 君主政体, 君主国, 君主政治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
epoch
|
|
| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
pillage
|
|
| v.抢劫；掠夺；n.抢劫，掠夺；掠夺物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
barbarians
|
|
| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
spires
|
|
| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
scythe
|
|
| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
apex
|
|
| n.顶点，最高点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
tilt
|
|
| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
vaults
|
|
| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
subterranean
|
|
| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
rumor
|
|
| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
rumors
|
|
| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
grotto
|
|
| n.洞穴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
fatten
|
|
| v.使肥，变肥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
annex
|
|
| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
poultry
|
|
| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
aristocrat
|
|
| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
aristocrats
|
|
| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
fowls
|
|
| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
gulf
|
|
| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
tickles
|
|
| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
superintendent
|
|
| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
isle
|
|
| n.小岛，岛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
mythological
|
|
| adj.神话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
perpetuate
|
|
| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
infamous
|
|
| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
federation
|
|
| n.同盟，联邦，联合，联盟，联合会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
economized
|
|
| v.节省，减少开支( economize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
economizes
|
|
| n.节省，减少开支( economize的名词复数 )v.节省，减少开支( economize的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
vicissitudes
|
|
| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
fortress
|
|
| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
knights
|
|
| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
utilized
|
|
| v.利用，使用( utilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
squeaking
|
|
| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
dungeon
|
|
| n.地牢，土牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
erratic
|
|
| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
receding
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
picturesquely
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
lugubrious
|
|
| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
commemorate
|
|
| vt.纪念，庆祝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
virgins
|
|
| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
veered
|
|
| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
clemency
|
|
| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
philosophical
|
|
| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
dagger
|
|
| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
urns
|
|
| n.壶( urn的名词复数 )；瓮；缸；骨灰瓮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
disinterestedness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
authenticity
|
|
| n.真实性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
rites
|
|
| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |