There followed a time of surprising happiness for Ingeborg. It was the happiness of the child escaped from its lessons and picnicking gloriously in freedom and unrebukedness. The widow, it is true, slightly smudged the brightness of the beginning by, as it were, dying hard. Her body clung to life—the life she had known, she lamented1, for eight long months. She was the last, she explained, of the Herr Pastor2's widows, who reached back in a rusty3 row to the days when he first came, elastic4 with youth, to cure the souls of Kökensee, and as she had stayed the longest it was clear she must be the best. She remained at the parsonage, dingily5 persistent6, for several days on the pretext7 of initiating8 Ingeborg into the ways of the house; and each time Herr Dremmel, who seemed a little shy of embarking9 on controversy10 with her, mentioned trains, she burst in his presence into prayer and implored11 aloud on his behalf that he might never know what it was to be a widow. She did ultimately, however, become dislodged, and once she was gone there was nothing but contentment.
Ingeborg was young enough to think the almost servantless housekeeping a thing of charm and humour. Herr Dremmel was of the easiest unconcern as to what or when or if he ate. It was early summer, and there was only delight in getting up at dawn and pottering about the brick-floored kitchen before the daily servant came—a girl known to Kökensee as Müller's Ilse—and heating water, and making coffee, and preparing a very clean little breakfast-table somewhere in the garden, and decorating it with freshly picked flowers, and putting the butter on young leaves, and arranging the jar of honey so that a shaft12 of sunlight between the branches shone straight through it turning it into a miracle of golden light. It was the sort of breakfast-table one reads about in story books; and on its fragility Herr Dremmel would presently descend13 like some great geological catastrophe14, and the whole in a few convulsed moments would be just crumbs15 and coffee stains. Then he would put on leggings and go off with Johann to his experimental fields, and she would give herself up eagerly to the duties of the day.
She could not talk at first to Ilse, a square girl with surprisingly thick legs, because though she went about always with a German grammar in one hand she found that what she had learned was never what she wanted to say. Ilse, whose skirt was short, did not wear stockings, and when Ingeborg by pointing and producing a pair had conveyed to her that it would be well if she did, Ilse raised her voice and said that she had no money to get a husband with but at least, and Gott sei Dank, she had these two fine legs, and if the Frau Pastor demanded that she should by hiding them give up her chances, then the Frau Pastor had best seek some girl on whom they grew crooked16 or lean, and who for those reasons would only be too glad to cover them up. Ingeborg, not understanding a word but apprehending17 a great objection, smiled benevolently18 and put the stockings away, and Ilse's legs went on being bare. They worked together in great harmony, for there could be no argument. Cut off from conversation, they sang; and Ingeborg sang hymns19 because her memory was packed with them, and Ilse sang long loud ballads21, going through them slowly verse by verse in a sort of steady howl. The very geese paused on their way to the pond to listen anxiously.
Dinner, which Ingeborg found convenient to prepare entirely22 in one pot, simmered placidly23 on the stove from twelve o'clock onwards. Anybody who was hungry went and ate it. You threw in potatoes and rice and bits of meat and carrots and cabbages and fat and salt, and there you were. What are these mysterious difficulties of housekeeping, she asked herself, that people shake their heads over? Her dinners were wholesome24 always, delicious if one were hungry, and quite amazingly hot. They stayed hot as persistently25 as poultices. And once when Ilse had the misfortune to be stung by a wasp26 on one of her admirable legs, Ingeborg, with immense presence of mind, seized the dinner and emptying it into a fair linen27 cloth bound it over the swollen28 place; so that when Herr Dremmel arrived, as it happened hungrily that day, about two o'clock and asked for his dinner, he was told it was on Ilse's leg and had to eat sandwiches. He could not but admire the resourcefulness of Ingeborg; but it was not until he had eaten several sandwiches that he was able still to say, as he patted her shoulder, "Little treasure."
It was the busiest, happiest time. Every minute of the day was full. It was life at first hand, not drained dry of its elemental excellences29 by being squeezed first through the medium of servants. To have a little kitchen all to yourself, to be really mistress of every corner of your house, to watch the career of your food from its very beginning, to run out into the garden and pull up anything you happened to want, to stand at the back door with your skirt full of grain and call your own chickens round you and feed them, to go yourself and look for eggs, to fill the funny little dark rooms with flowers and measure the stone-floored passage for a drugget you would presently order in the only carpet shop you had faith in, which was the one in Redchester—what pleasures did the world contain that could possibly come up to these? Things were a little untidy, but what did that matter? It was possible to become the slave of things; possible to miss life in preparation for living.
And the weather was so beautiful—at least, Ingeborg thought it was. There was the hottest sun, and the coolest wind, and bright, clear-skied starry30 nights. It is true Robert, when he scanned the naked heavens the last thing at night and peered at the thermometer outside his window the first thing in the morning, said it was the Devil's own weather, and that if there was not soon some rain all his fertilizers, all his activities, all his expenditure31 would be wasted; but though this would throw a shadow for a moment across her joy in each new wonderful morning she found it impossible not to rejoice in the light. Out in the garden, for instance, down there beyond the lime-trees at the end, where you could stand in the gap in the lilac hedge and look straight out across the rye-fields, the immense unending rye-fields, dipping and rising, delicate grey, delicate green, shining in sunlight, dark beneath a cloud, restlessly waving, on and on, till over away at the end of things they got to the sky and were only stopped by brushing up against it—out there with one's hand shading one's eyes from the too great brightness, who could find fault with anything, who could do anything but look and see that it was all very good? Oh, but it was good. It made one want to sing the Te Deum, or the Magnificat, or still better that hymn20 of exultation32, We praise Thee, we bless Thee, we worship Thee, we glorify33 Thee, we give thanks to Thee for Thy great glory....
Whenever there was a spare half hour, such as between where dinner ended and tea began, she would run out to the lime-trees, and pacing up and down that leafy place with the gooseberry bushes and vegetables and straggling accidental flowers of the garden lying hotly in the sun between her and the back of the house, she learned German words by heart. She learned them aloud from her grammar, saying them over and over again glibly34, mechanically, while her thoughts danced about the future, from the immediate35 future of what she would do to-morrow, the future of an afternoon in the punt among the reeds and perhaps paddling along to where the forest began, to the more responsible vaguer future of further down the months, when, armed with German, she would begin among the poor and go out into the parish and make friends with the peasants and be a real pastor's wife. Particularly she wished to get nearer her mother-in-law. It seemed to her to be her first duty to get near her. Ceaselessly she trotted36 up and down repeating the German for giants, umbrellas, keys, spectacles, wax, fingers, thunder, beards, princes, boats, and shoulders. Ceaselessly her lips moved, while her eyes followed the movements of the birds darting37 in and out of the lilac hedge and hopping38 among the crumbs where breakfast had been; and through her giants, umbrellas, keys, spectacles, and wax she managed not to miss a word the yellow-hammers were chirping39 to each other in cheerful strophe and antistrophe: A little bit of bread and no che-e-e-e-e-ese—a little bit of bread and no che-e-e-e-e-ese.
At four she would go in and make some coffee by the simple method of uniting the coffee to hot water and leaving them to settle down together on the mat outside the laboratory's locked door. Herr Dremmel did not wish to be disturbed once he was in there, and she would steal down the passage on tip-toe, biting her under-lip in the intentness of her care that no rattling40 of the things on the tray should reach his ears.
When he was in the house all singing ceased. She arranged that Ilse should do her outdoor duties then—clean out the hen-house, milk the cow whether it wanted to be milked or not, and minister to the pig. Johann was away all day at the experiment ground, and Ilse waded41 about the farmyard mess with her bare legs, thoroughly42 enjoying herself, for no one ever scolded her whatever she did, and the yard was separated from the village street only by a low fence, and the early manhood of Kökensee, as it passed, could pause and lean on this and learn from her manner of solacing43 the pig the comfortableness of the solacements awaiting her husband.
At seven Ilse went home, and Ingeborg prepared a supper so much like breakfast that nobody could have told it was evening and not morning except that the ray of sunshine fell through the honey from the west instead of the east, and there was cheese. At this meal Herr Dremmel, full of his fertilizers, was mostly in a profound abstraction. He drank the coffee with which he was becoming saturated44 and ate great slices of bread and cheese in an impenetrable silence. Ingeborg sat throwing crumbs to the birds and watching the sky at the edge of the world grow first a mighty45 red, then fade, then light up into clear green; and long after the shadows beneath the lime-trees were black and the stars and the bats were out and the frogs down in the reeds of the lake and the occasional creaking of the village pump were all that one could hear outside the immense stillness, they would go on sitting there, Herr Dremmel silently smoking, Ingeborg silently making plans.
Sometimes she would get up and cross over to him and bend her face down close to his and try in the dark to explore his eyes with hers. "The noise you make!" she would say, brushing a kiss, so much used does marriage make one to what once has seemed impossible, across the top of his hair; and he would wake up and smile and pat her shoulder and tell her she was a good little wife.
Then she felt proud. It was just what she wanted to be—a good little wife. She wanted to give satisfaction, to be as helpful to him as she had been to her father in the days before her disgrace; and more helpful, for he was so much kinder, he was so dear. For this extraordinary happiness, for this delicious safety from disapproval46, for these free, fearless, wonderful days, she would give in return all she had, all she was, all she could teach herself and train herself to be.
Nearly always Herr Dremmel went back to his laboratory about ten and worked till after midnight; and she would lie awake in the funny bare bedroom across the passage as long as she could so as not to miss too much of life by being asleep, smelling with the delight delicate sweet smells gave her the various fragrances47 of the resting garden. And the stars blinked in through the open window, and she could see the faint whiteness of a bush of guelder roses against the curtain of the brooding night. When Herr Dremmel came in he shut the window.
On Sundays there was a service at two o'clock once a fortnight. On the alternating Sundays Herr Dremmel was driven by Johann to another village three miles distant which was part of his scattered48 parish, and here he preached the sermon he had preached to Kökensee the Sunday before. He practised a rigorous economy in sermons; and it had this advantage that an enthusiast49—only there was no enthusiast—by waiting a week and walking three miles, most of which was deep sand, might hear again anything that had struck him the previous week. By waiting a year, indeed, the same enthusiast, supposing him there, could hear everything again, for Herr Dremmel's sermons numbered twenty-six and were planned to begin on January 1st with the Circumcision, and leaping along through the fortnights of the year ended handsomely and irregularly with an extra one at Christmas. However inattentive a member of the congregation might be, as the years passed over him he knew the sermons. They were sermons weighty, according to the season, either with practical advice or with wrathful expositions of duty. There was one every year when the threshing time was at hand on the text Micah iv. 13, Arise and thresh, explaining with patient exactitude the newest methods of doing it. There was the annual Harvest Thanks-giving sermon on Matthew xiii., part of verse 26, Tares50, after yet another year of the congregation's obstinate51 indifference52 to chemical manure53. There was the sermon on Jeremiah ix. 22, Is there no physician there? preached yearly on one of the later Sundays in Trinity when the cold, continuous rains of autumn were finding out the weak spots in the parish's grandparents, and the peasants, having observed that once one called in a doctor the sick person got better and one had to pay the doctor into the bargain, evaded54 calling him in if they possibly could, inquiring of each other gloomily how one was to live if death were put a stop to. And there was the Advent55 sermon when the annual slaughter56 of pigs drew near, on Isaiah lxv., part of the 4th verse, Swine's flesh.
This sermon filled the church. In spite of the poor opinion of pigs in both the Old and New Testaments57, where, Herr Dremmel found on searching for a text, they were hardly mentioned except as convenient receptacles for devils, in his parishioners' lives they provided the nearest, indeed the only, approach to the finer emotions, to gratitude58, love, wonder. The peasant, watching this pink chalice59 of his future joys, this mysterious moving crucible60 into which whatever dreary61 dregs and leavings he threw, uttermost dregs of uttermost dregs that even his lean dog would not touch, they still by Christmas emerged as sausages, could not but feel at least some affection, at least some little touch of awe62. While his relations were ill and having to have either a doctor or a funeral and sometimes, rousing him to fury, both, or if not ill were well and requiring food and clothing, his pig walked about pink and naked, giving no trouble, needing no money spent on it, placidly transmuting63 into the fat of future feastings that which without it would have become, in heaps, a source of flies and corruption64. Herr Dremmel on pigs was full of intimacy65 and local warmth. He was more—he was magnificent. It was the sermon in the year which never failed to fill every seat, and it was the one day on which Kökensee felt its pastor thoroughly understood it.
Ingeborg went diligently66 to church whenever there was church to go to. She explained to Herr Dremmel that she held it to be her duty as the pastor's wife to set an example in this matter, and he pinched her ear and replied that it might possibly be good for her German. He seemed to think nothing of her duty as a pastor's wife; and when she suggested that perhaps she ought to begin and go the rounds of the cottages and not wait for greater stores of language, he only remarked that little women's duty is to make their husbands happy.
"But don't I?" she asked confidently, seizing his coat in both her hands.
"And I can do something besides that."
"Nothing so good. Nothing half so good."
"But Robert, one thing doesn't exclude—"
Herr Dremmel had already, however, ceased to listen. His thoughts had slid off again. She seemed to sit in his mind on the top of a slope up which he occasionally clambered and caressed68 her. Eagerly on these visits she would buttonhole him with talk and ask him questions so that he might linger, but even while she button-holed his gaze would become abstracted and off he slid, leaving her peering after him over the edge filled with a mixture of affection, respect for his work, pride in him, and amusement.
You might as well try, she thought, to buttonhole water; and she would laugh and go back to whatever she was doing with a blithe69 feeling that it was very ideal, this perfect independence of one another, this spaciousness70 of freedom to do exactly what each one liked. The immense tracts71 of time she had! How splendid this leisure was after the close detail of every hour at home in her father's study. When she had got over the first difficulties of German and need no longer devote most of her day to it she would get books from England and read and read; all the ones she had wanted to read but had not been allowed to. Oh, the magnificence of marriage, thought Ingeborg, beating her hands together, the splendour of its liberations! She would go off in the morning with the punt full of books, and spend long glorious days away in the forest lying on the green springy carpet of whortleberries, reading. She would most diligently work at furnishing her empty mind. She would sternly endeavour to train it not to jump.
All the books she possessed72 she had brought with her and spread over the living-room: the wedding-presents which had enriched her with Hardy73 and Meredith and Kipling and Tennyson and Ruskin, and her own books she had had as a girl. These were three, the Christian74 Year, given to her on her confirmation75 by her father, Longfellow's Poems, given her on her eighteenth birthday by her mother, and Dumas' Tulipe Noire, given her as a prize for French because Judith did not know any, one summer when a French governess was introduced (thoughtlessly, the Bishop76 said afterwards) into the Palace. This lady had been removed from the Palace again a little later with care, every corner of her room being scrupulously77 disinfected by the searching of Richards who found, however, nothing except one book in a yellow paper cover called Bibi et Lulu: Mœurs du Montparnasse; and even this was not in her room at all, but in Judith's, beneath some stockings.
Herr Dremmel took up one of the wedding volumes when first he saw them in the sitting-room78 and turned its pages. It was The Shaving of Shagpat. "Tut, tut," he said presently, putting it down.
"Why, Robert?" asked Ingeborg, eager to hear what he thought. But he patted her abstractedly, already slid off again down into regions of reality, the regions in which his brain incessantly79 worked out possible chemical combinations and forgot with a completeness that sometimes even surprised himself that he had a wife. Invariably, however, he found it pleasant on re-emerging to remember her.
She asked to be shown his experimental fields, and he took her with him very amiably80 one hot morning, promising81 to explain them to her; but instantly on reaching them he became absorbed, and after she had spent an hour sitting on a stone at the edge of a strip of lupins beneath a haggard little fir tree which gave the solitary82 bit of shade in that burning desert watching him going up and down the different strips examining apparently83 every single plant with Johann, she began to think she had better go home and look after the dinner, and waving a good-bye to him, which he did not see, she went.
A day or two later she asked whether it would not be good and pleasant that his mother should come over to tea with them soon.
He replied amiably that it would be neither good nor pleasant.
She asked whether it might not be a duty of theirs to invite her.
He replied, after consideration, "Perhaps."
She asked whether he did not love his mother.
He replied unhesitatingly, "No."
She then went and sat on his knee and caught hold of his ears and pulled his head up so that he should look at her.
"But Robert—" she said.
"Well, little sheep?"
Since their marriage he had instinctively84 left off calling her a lamb. The universe, which for a time she had managed to reduce into just a setting for one little female thing, had arranged itself into its proper lines again; the lamb had become a sheep—a little one, but yet no longer and never again a lamb. He was glad he had been able to be so thoroughly in love. He was glad he had so promptly85 applied86 the remedy of marriage. His affection for his wife was quite satisfactory: it was calm, it was deep, it interfered87 with nothing. She held the honourable88 position he had always, even at his most enamoured moments, known she would ultimately fill, the position next best in his life after the fertilizers. His house, so long murky89 with widows, was now a bright place because of her. Approaching poetry, he likened her to a little flitting busy bird in spring. Always he was pleased when she came and perched on his knee.
"Well, little sheep?" he said, smiling at her as she looked very close into his eyes.
Her face, seen so near, was charming in its delicate detail, in its young perfection of texture90 and colouring. Scrutinizing91 her eyes he was glad to notice once again how intelligent they were. Presently there would be sturdy boys tumbling about the garden with eyes like that, grey and honest and intelligent. His boys. Carrying on, far more efficiently92, the work he had begun.
"Well, little sheep?" he said, suddenly moved.
"Oughtn't one to love one's mother?" she asked.
"Perhaps. But one does not. Do you?"
"Oh, poor mother—" said Ingeborg quickly.
Her mother, far away, was already becoming a rather sad and a quite tender memory. All those days and years on a sofa, and all the days and years still to come.... Now she knew better, now that she was married herself, what it must have been like to be married to the Bishop, to have twenty years of unadulterated Bishop. She no longer wondered at the sofa. She was full of understanding and pity.
"One does, no doubt, at the beginning," said Herr Dremmel.
"And then leaves off? Is that all children are born for, that they may leave off loving us?"
He became cautious. He talked of the general and the individual. Of many mothers and some mothers. Of the mothers of the present generation—he called them the Gewesene—and the mothers of the generation to be born—he called them the Werdende. And presently, as she sat rather enigmatically silent on his knee, he developed affection for his mother, explaining that no doubt it had always been there, but like many other good things when life was busy and a man had little time to go back and stir them had lain dormant93, and he now thought, indeed he recognised, that it would be excellent to urge her to come over soon and spend an afternoon—or still better a morning.
"But you're not here in the morning," said Ingeborg.
"Ah—that is true. I am present, however, at dinner."
"But nobody ever knows when."
"I might, perhaps, arrive early."
In this way the elder Frau Dremmel, who had her pride to consider as the widow of her neglectful son's traditionally appreciative94 father, and who would consequently never have taken what she called in her broodings the first step, did, about seven weeks after the marriage, cross the threshold of her daughter-in-law's home.
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1
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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dingily
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| adv.暗黑地，邋遢地 | |
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6
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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7
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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initiating
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| v.开始( initiate的现在分词 )；传授；发起；接纳新成员 | |
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embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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apprehending
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的现在分词 )； 理解 | |
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benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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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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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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excellences
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| n.卓越( excellence的名词复数 )；（只用于所修饰的名词后）杰出的；卓越的；出类拔萃的 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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glorify
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| vt.颂扬，赞美，使增光，美化 | |
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glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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40
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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41
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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solacing
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| v.安慰，慰藉( solace的现在分词 ) | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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fragrances
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| n.芳香，香味( fragrance的名词复数 )；香水 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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tares
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| 荑；稂莠；稗 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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testaments
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| n.遗嘱( testament的名词复数 )；实际的证明 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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chalice
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| n.圣餐杯；金杯毒酒 | |
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crucible
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| n.坩锅，严酷的考验 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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transmuting
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的现在分词 ) | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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spaciousness
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| n.宽敞 | |
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tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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efficiently
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| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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