About two weeks from the time of the unwelcome visit to her of Prince Khris, the Duchess of Otterbourne, descending1 the terrace steps of her hotel, met, as he ascended2 them, young Woffram of Karstein.
“How dull you look!” she said to him. “What on earth is the matter? Are you going to enliven us with a sensational3 suicide?”
The young man smiled, but with no mirth in his smile.
“Something horrible has happened, though not a suicide,” he answered sadly. “My poor granduncle Khris, the one who came to you the other day, has fallen down in a fit at the rouge4-et-noir table yonder.”
With a gesture toward the east he indicated Monte Carlo, which lay in the distant curves of the coast.
“Is he dead?” she said eagerly.
“No. But he is dying. Hugo von Börn told me. He has just come from there. He saw it.”
“You seem singularly afflicted5!” said Mouse with a little laugh to conceal6 the impression which the news made on herself.
“Well,” said Prince Woffram with embarrassment7, “the death of a good man, you know, isn’t half so shocking as the death of a bad one.”
“Indeed?” said Mouse. “I should have thought just the contrary. But then I don’t see things by the light of the Lutheran religion! Where did Prince Khris live? Who had he with him? Who will look after him?”
“I fear he is past looking after. Where his lodgings8 were I don’t know; they were something very poor, for all his money went at the tables. I think—don’t you think?—I ought to go and see if I can do anything for him?”
“But your people don’t know him, you say?”
“No; but when an old man is dying things seem different. I think I ought to go.”
[525]“Telegraph for your father’s permission,” said Mouse, leaning against the balustrade and playing with her long gold muff chain. She was thinking of many things: she was certain in her own mind that the man now stricken down at Monte Carlo could tell much about his daughter’s divorce, if he could not, which she thought possible, tell that which would reunite his daughter and Vanderlin. It would never do to let his grandnephew, who was simplicity9 and veracity10 incarnate11, get to the bedside and hear what might be the deathbed confessions12. She wished to do that herself, for knowledge is always power.
The complete security with which Khris of Karstein had told her that he would prevent her schemes as to Vanderlin ever bearing fruition, must certainly point to one thing only, that he had the means to clear the character of his daughter to her divorced husband.
She hastily reasoned that, however odd it might look to others, she must see the old man before he died. After all, her visit to him could be put upon charity; poor Charity has borne many heavier and uglier burdens than the rosy13 children with which Correggio loaded her.
She felt moreover that she would like to see him, lying speechless, paralyzed, impatient; he had been so odiously15 rude!
Still playing with the long gold chain, she turned her eyes on young Woffram, dazzling him with their azure16 light.
“I feel like a brute17 to do nothing for him,” said the good-natured young cuirassier. “As to telegraphing to my father it would be a mere18 waste of money; he would never bear his uncle Khristof’s name mentioned.”
“Then I think you would do very foolishly to go near the old man,” said his friend. “It would embroil19 you with your people, and go against you at Berlin. I told you the other day that I am not afraid of compromising myself by being kind to people who are under a cloud. I will go and see after Prince Khris if you like; I was going to Monte Carlo to-morrow—I will go to-day instead. There is a train in an hour. I will telegraph you word how he is.”
The young man stared at her.
[526]It seemed very angelic, but he was not accustomed to see her in such an angelic light, though he adored her. Simple and unsuspecting though he was he could not help seeing that there must be some interest in this offered charity beyond the benevolence20 visible on the surface.
“It would be wonderfully good of you,” he said with hesitation21. “But would it not look rather odd?”
“I never care what a thing looks,” she replied with impatience22, “and really, my dear Wuffie, I don’t believe even an international jury of British and German matrons would put a scandalous interpretation23 on a visit to a dying man of seventy-eight years of age!”
“He’s only sixty-eight,” murmured his grandnephew. “But of course, if you don’t mind, it would be exceedingly kind of you, and—and——”
“Where is Prince Khris living—do you know?”
“No.”
“Oh, I can soon find out when I get there. He won’t be far from the Casino.”
The young soldier was surprised. He had not thought charity abode24 within the white bosom25 of his enchanting26 friend. He could not easily imagine her sitting by a discarded and despised old sinner’s deathbed. He had seen her in many characters but never in that of the ministering angel when pain and anguish27 wring28 the brow.
“What on earth is she up to?” he thought, and said a little awkwardly:
“He didn’t win much, I think; he’d just got on a run of the rouge when he dropped——”
“My dear Wuffie, I’m not going to steal his winnings!” said Mouse with her pretty crystal-clear laugh. “I’ve known him a long time, poor old man, and it’s only human to go and look after him. People at Monte Carlo are wild beasts, and they didn’t look off the tables I dare say, when he fell, and I am sure none of them will go near him. I shall take the two o’clock train; you can come over on Sunday as we agreed.”
Prince Woffram meekly29 acquiesced30. He felt that there was something which he did not understand in the air; although not very quick of perception, and although very much enamored, he vaguely31 suspected that his unknown[527] greatuncle must possess letters or papers or knowledge which might compromise this ministering angel if she did not get to the bedside before somebody else. He adored her, but he had no illusions about her, the few he had ever had, like roses rudely shaken, had fallen before the merciless revelations of his friend Boo.
Boo and her governess accompanied her that day on her mission of mercy. She knew too well the value as social shield of her little daughter’s presence. She was genuinely fond of the child; but if she had not been fond of her, she would nevertheless have appreciated and utilized32 the safety which lies in such an accompaniment. As for the governess, she was discretion33 itself, saw nothing, heard nothing, that she was not to see and hear, and was easily purchased for all eternity34 by a bracelet35 at Christmas or a ring at Easter.
As the train ran through the beautiful coast scenery, so familiar to her that she had ceased even to look at it, she had such a vague titillation36 of curiosity and excitement as a young panther may feel who for the first time smells a human footprint on the grass. She liked intrigue37 and comedy for their own sakes; even if they had no consequences they passed the time amusingly and lent a sense of ability and power. The combinations of life are like those of whist or chess—they exercise the intelligence, they flatter the consciousness of skill.
She was more convinced than ever that Prince Khris had the power to reunite his daughter and her divorced husband. The idea of a femme tarée reigning38 over the beautiful Les Mouettes was odious14 to her and ridiculous. She had a most profound contempt for women who were compromised. She felt for them what the head of the herd39 is said to feel for the lamed40 and stricken deer. She had indeed no patience with them, for it was they, the silly demonstrative creatures, who set society’s back up and made things uncomfortable for wiser persons. A woman like Olga zu Lynar who had married into all this money and had not known how to keep it seemed to her perfectly41 idiotic42. She felt that if she herself had acquired all these millions her own conduct would have been perfectly exemplary; at all events wholly unattackable.
[528]But she desired intensely to know the truth about this unworthy divorcée, since until she did know it she could not make her own plans with any chance of success. As the train swung on through the tunnels her pity for herself was extreme; it was cruelly hard that she should always be driven to do all kinds of unpleasant and dubious43 things because other people were so inconsiderate and annoying.
Why could not old Khris have had his fit before coming to interfere44 about Vanderlin? She could not really be sure that he had not already seen Vanderlin; the latter had been impenetrable, and clearly on his guard that day of the breakfast at Les Mouettes. She felt that she was playing a dangerous game in the dark—playing lawn-tennis blindfolded45. But it therefore interested her the more.
It was the merest chance that she would gain anything by visiting the old man; but, on the other hand, she would not lose anything, and she would look amiable46; it seemed to her also clever to have remembered the few words about him which had been spoken by the Archduke. It is just such à propos remembrance, such connection of trifles, which make clever detectives and successful spies. As the train ran on she apparently48 listened to the chatter49 of Boo over a big sack of bonbons50 and a big bouquet51 of lilies of the valley, but in herself she was thinking that her ingenuity52 and intelligence had merited a better fate than that of having to worry about hotel bills and scheme to marry a banker. She did not like the idea of marrying Vanderlin, she did not think he would be facile, though he had the reputation of being generous; she did not think that he would be likely to let her make ducks and drakes of European finance as it would have diverted her to do in his place; he looked grave, he was serious and sad, and he bored her. Besides, she would have preferred to marry no one. But there was nothing else that she could do, or at least nothing else which promised so well, which offered so much solidity and comfort for the future. Therefore she went on through the olive-woods and by the edge of the blue sea to Monte Carlo.
When Boo and the bouquets53 and bonbons were left in safety at the Hotel de Paris, she caused herself to be[529] dressed in the simplest black gown she possessed54, put a grey golfing-cloak over that, and with a felt hat and a thick veil went out all alone; hoping to pass unperceived in this place which was filled with hundreds of men and women of her world, and hundreds also of worlds of which hers knew nothing.
She had learned that Prince Khris was to be found in a house out of the town, where he had a modest chamber55, whither he had been carried speechless and apparently unconscious on the previous night, when he had dropped, huddled56 and bent57 like a collapsed58 marionette59, amidst a crowd of gamblers who scarcely turned their heads to see what had happened.
It was a small poor chamber over a grocer’s shop in the outskirts60, in which there lay dying the man who had seen sentinels present arms when he had passed as a young child in his donkey chaise, with a lady of his father’s Court in charge of him, across the Platz of the small ducal city.
She felt a sense of pain as she ascended the narrow uncarpeted stair in the close unpleasant atmosphere.
“Has he not even a valet?” she said to the old woman who left the shop to show her the way upstairs.
“No, madame,” answered the woman. “We look after the poor old gentleman as well as we can; there is only me and my sister; and one of us must attend to the business.”
Mouse shivered a little as she heard; it was a realization62 of indigence63 by which she had never been before confronted. Want of money she had known, and debt and great anxiety; but she had never been without servants, up a rickety stair, above a smelly little shop. It shocked her to see a man of this rank, of her own world, thus utterly64 abandoned like any beggar who had fallen by the roadside.
The frightful65 callousness66 of human nature when it is not softened67 by deference68 to wealth and self-interest struck her with its chill brutality69 like a handful of ice flung in her face. She was no kinder herself; still the realization of the rough and jeering70 egotism of the world momentarily hurt her. She thought of Buckingham dying[530] alone in the garret. There was the solidarity71 of class between her and the fallen prince; and there was also the possibility that she herself might some day, in some far away old age, be no better off than he.
The woman opened a low door as she spoke47, and Mouse saw into the room—a poor place with grey walls, a brick floor, spare furniture, and a narrow bed, whereon lay what was left of the once courtly and elegant person of Prince Khristof of Karstein. There was one window through which the slope of an olive-covered hill was visible.
He was conscious, though motionless and speechless; he opened his eyes at the unclosing of the door, but he did not recognize his visitor through her thick veil. His features were twisted and drawn72, his hands lay supinely on the rough woollen coverlet; he looked almost already a corpse73: there was only life in the steel-blue, watching, apprehensive74 eyes, into which at her appearance there came a gleam of wonder, perhaps of hope.
“Are you a relation, madame?” said the woman of the house.
“Only a friend. Does the doctor come often? What does he say?”
“He comes but little,” replied the woman. “He knows he will never be paid, and he knows nothing will be of any use.”
“Is it quite hopeless?”
“It is only a question of hours.”
“Why did you not send for a sœur?”
“We did, but they are all out. Will you be at the charge of the burial, madame?”
“Send for another,” said Mouse; “there are scores of them.”
“Will madame guarantee all expenses?” asked the woman.
Mouse hesitated; she did not wish to have her visit there known or her name given.
“I am sure the family of the prince will repay everything,” she answered. “They are great people.”
[531]The woman smiled dubiously76. “Is he really a prince, madame? They are all princes here, but they pawn77 their shirts all the same.”
“He is really a prince—a serene78 highness; he is allied79 by blood to one imperial house and two royal houses.”
The woman looked dubious still; a napoleon would have better eased her doubts.
“That is nothing, madame,” she said with contempt; “those people pay less willingly than anybody.”
During this colloquy80 the eyes of Prince Khris watched intently; his brain was not clear, and his ears seemed stuffed up and filled with buzzing noises, but he understood that they were talking of him. She had put back her veil and he had recognized her. Why was the blonde devil there? Why was not Olga there instead? He had forgotten time, he had only a confused notion of things; he had recognized the blonde devil and he was afraid she should get at his papers, but all the rest was mist and confusion. His memory of his daughter was of her as a little child—a little child in a white frock, with a pearl necklace and great brown eyes and a cloud of dark soft hair. When she had been a little child he had never done her any harm.
The old dame61 retired81, well pleased to see a lady take her place, and she, left alone, came up to the bedside forcing herself to conquer her natural aversion to painful and unlovely scenes: she was vaguely afraid of that mute, paralyzed figure. She dreaded82 intensely lest the doctor should arrive before she should have been able to do what she desired; but for that reason she deemed it prudent83 to seem anxious for his presence. No one bent on a dubious errand would ever endeavor to hasten a doctor’s arrival. The motionless figure on the bed looked entirely84 unlike the man whom she had known as Khris Kar: entirely unlike except for those steel-blue eyes which were staring at her without recognition, but with challenge and inquiry85, for his brain was still conscious. That gaze frightened her. After all, what business had she to be there? She was momentarily unnerved; but she had courage and audacity86, and she controlled her nerves and looked away[532] not to see those searching eyes in the lean, waxen, distorted face.
She went to the window and closed the wooden blinds, for the setting sun was strong though winter was scarce past. Then she took off her hat and veil, and moved about the small chamber putting it in order as she had seen nurses do in sick-rooms, and filling a glass with fresh water from a pitcher87 which stood on the floor. The place was horrible to her; its air was close, its scent88 bad, its floor was not clean, the chairs were rush-bottomed, the table was deal; but there was one thing which belonged to a different sphere, one thing which attracted her and seemed to suggest that her errand might not be fruitless—it was a despatch-box of Russian leather, with initials and the crown of a serene highness in gold or silver gilt89 above its lock. If there were any papers of consequence in the room, that box, much battered90 by frequent travel, contained them. Moreover, when she approached and dusted it, she saw the eyes of the man on the bed dilate91 with menace. She left it at once and cut a lemon into the glass of water and went to the bedside with the drink. The shaded light fell across the bed. She saw the eyes of the paralytic92 stare upward at her. Then into them came a ray of comprehension—a flash of hate.
“It is the blonde devil,” thought the still conscious brain, which had lost all power to communicate its thoughts to the lips and tongue.
“Dear Prince, do you know me?” said his visitor very softly. “I am so sorry to find you here, and so ill. I should like to be of some use.”
The kind, soft words found their way to the dulled, imprisoned93 brain; she saw that by the expression of the eyes; for the eyes in answer said to her: “I am half dead—I am almost wholly dead; but I am not so utterly dead yet that I can be fooled by you. Blonde devil, what is it that you come here to seek?”
She observed that his eyes, leaving her face, turned anxiously in the direction where the despatch-box was; she saw also that round his throat was a steel chain with a small gold key. In that box was there any message for his daughter, or for Vanderlin, or any proof that he had[533] brought about their separation? It was evident that he was afraid the box should be touched. This interested her. She was pleased that her instinct had led her right. She did not dare to act in any way; he might not be entirely paralyzed as the people said; he might not be so absolutely sure to die, or to remain speechless until his death; she knew nothing about his malady94, except that he had dropped down suddenly when punting at Monte Carlo.
She felt that he suspected her, that he would, if he had use of his voice, have ordered her out of the room; she read all that in his regard. Prudence95 necessitated96 the continuance of the very tiresome97 rôle of ministering angel. She dared do nothing until the doctor should have confirmed the hopelessness of his state. She was excruciatingly bored, and somewhat frightened. The horrible spectre on the bed looked like a ghoul so lean, so colorless, so distorted, so motionless. She had nothing to do, she felt a palpitating terror lest he should recover the power of speech; she believed that people struck down by hemiplegia did so recover it sometimes. She held a spoonful of lemonade to his shut lips; but he did not open them, he only glared at her. The spoon was of a common white metal, ugly, yellow, discolored; she hated to touch it.
At that moment a heavy step was heard on the stair and a broad, bearded, rough-looking man entered with his hat on his head; it was the doctor.
“Sapristi!” he shouted very angrily; “what do you send for again and again and again. The man is as good as dead. All the science in the world could not save him. You waste my time. You——”
Catching98 sight then of a lady in the room he pulled off his hat and muttered his excuses: he was very busy, he had many sick people, people who were curable, the man on the bed could not recover.
“Oh, pray do not say so!” said Mouse with much apparent feeling. “Do they not recover sometimes? I think I have heard——”
“A man of that age cannot recover,” said the doctor impatiently. “He is practically dead already. He will[534] not live through the night, if you can call him still living. You are a relation?”
“No. But I have known him in other years, when he was less—less fortunate; and I know all his people.”
“The lady says they are royal,” murmured the woman of the house.
“Royal!” echoed the doctor with scorn. “If they were the consul99 would be after him like a dog after a bone.”
The consul! Mouse remembered with a shock that such a person might indeed arrive at any moment. She had not thought of this possibility.
The doctor had gone up to the bed, turned down the bedclothes, placed his stethoscope over the heart, and listened.
“He will die in three or four hours,” he said, as he turned again from the bed. “The heart is exhausted100; it has lost almost all power of propulsion. Let me hear when all is over. Madame, your servant.”
He hurried out of the room, clapping his hat on his head and noisily clattering101 down the stairs.
“You may go,” said Mouse to the woman of the house. “I will stay a few hours here. Meantime try and get a Sœur de Charité.”
“Who will pay for all this expense, madame?” said the woman. “Who will pay for the burial and all the rest?”
“You must send to the German consul—he will tell you,” said Mouse. “I ought to have thought of it before. I cannot stay here much longer, but I will stay till someone in authority comes. Go; send at once to the consulate102.”
Mouse put ten francs into the woman’s hand, wishing to make a friend of her. “And send for the consul at once that I may speak to him,” she added, for she always remembered appearances.
It was growing dark. By her watch it was a quarter to six. All light had faded off the olive-clad slope in front of the window. She had had no afternoon tea. She began to want her dinner, and, after all, she might be boring herself to no purpose, on a mere fool’s errand.
“Send for a nun,” said Mouse, who only desired to get rid of her. “Send for another doctor. The Prince cannot lie like this.”
“Very well, madame,” said the woman. “But errands cost money. People won’t run messages for nothing.”
Mouse gave her some more silver and bade her find a messenger. She was anxious to be rid of her, for in her presence it was impossible to open the box. She was resolved to open it. It was not a pleasant thing to do, but she had an intuitive sense that it was worth doing.
She was glad that neither the woman nor the doctor had asked her who she was. She summoned all her fortitude105 to her assistance and approached the bed.
She saw that he was, as the doctor said, very nearly lifeless. His breathing was labored106 and painful, his heart scarcely beat any longer. His eyes were closed. They had ceased to stare at her. How could she sever107 the little steel chain round his throat? He could not cry out or raise his hand to oppose her; she leaned over him and took hold of the key. She shrank in all her nerves from the horror of touching108 him, but she put a strong pressure on herself and tried to wrench109 the key from the ring on which it hung. He seemed insensible and unaware110 of what she was doing. But suddenly, as she succeeded in wrenching111 open the ring, breaking her shell-like fingernails in doing so, his eyelids112 were lifted and consciousness once more glared at her from his regard. She felt herself turn white with terror and disgust, but she did not loosen her hold and she pulled the key off the ring. His eyes cursed her, but his curse was impotent.
She hurried to the leather box, fitted the key in its lock, and opened it. She did not even look back at the bed. She was in haste lest the consul or someone else should come up the stairs. In the box there was nothing but papers. There were the diplomas of orders; there were certificates of marriage and birth; there were some old letters; and there was a large sealed packet addressed to Vanderlin. There was nothing else. Whatever it might once have held of value had been removed previously[536] by himself, and the stars of the orders had been pawned113 and lost.
She took out the packet addressed to Vanderlin, laid the other documents in order, locked the box and returned to the bedside to put back the key on the chain.
Then she saw a change which it was impossible to misread. He was dead. The cerebral114 excitement, caused by his recognition of her and of her endeavor to seize the key, had killed him. He was dead and could never bear witness against her. She fastened the little key on its ring, drew the sheet up over his breast, and with a shudder115 left the bedside. Then she opened the bodice of her gown and put the packet against her corset; it was bulky, but when she put on her golfing-cloak it did not show.
When the German consul mounting the stairs opened the door of the chamber he saw a lady in black and grey, who kneeled by the side of the bed, the lamplight illumining the golden coils of her hair. He was greatly touched and impressed. She rose from her knees and addressed him with a sweet, sad gravity.
“My poor old friend expired but a moment ago,” she said softly. “I am so glad I came. He would otherwise have died in solitude116. Oh, how harsh and cruel is the world!”
Then she gave him her name and address, said that she had known the dead man from her childhood, and had come to nurse him because she had understood that he was all alone.
The consul, a simple sturdy man of business, was deeply moved. When he had executed the few formalities necessary, and affixed118 his seal to the despatch-box, he begged this charming and compassionate119 stranger to allow him the honor of driving her back to her hotel.
“Why was not his daughter with him?” she said to the consul. “Oh, I know why—they have quarrelled; but it is such a sacred tie! Surely——”
“The Countess Olga has always been most generous to her father, madame,” replied the gentleman. “But it was of no use. It was pouring money into sieve120. I have telegraphed to her. She will probably come in person, but she cannot be here before another day at the least.”
[537]“How fortunate I had the start of her!” thought the ministering angel of this deathbed, as she watched the consul affix117 his seals to the old despatch-box, of which the only contents of any value were lying safe against the satin and lace of her stays. She would have infinitely121 preferred slipping away unseen from that sorry house, and finding her way as she could, on foot or by cab, back to her hotel unseen by anyone. But her mind quickly grasped all the points of a question, and she immediately perceived that her visit to be creditable must be unconcealed, and when the fascinated official offered to drive her back to her hotel, she accepted the offer, realizing all the solidity, veracity, and respectability which his countenance122 of her conferred. She left the woman of the house in charge of the dead body, and with an aureole of virtue123 round her head descended124 the stair which she had ascended on so questionable125 an errand.
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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afflicted
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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lodgings
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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veracity
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incarnate
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confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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odiously
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| Odiously | |
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azure
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brute
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mere
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embroil
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| vt.拖累；牵连；使复杂 | |
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benevolence
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hesitation
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impatience
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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abode
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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enchanting
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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28
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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29
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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30
acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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32
utilized
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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34
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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35
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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36
titillation
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| n.搔痒，愉快；搔痒感 | |
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37
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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38
reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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39
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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40
lamed
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| 希伯莱语第十二个字母 | |
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41
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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42
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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43
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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44
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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45
blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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46
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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47
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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48
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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49
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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50
bonbons
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| n.小糖果( bonbon的名词复数 ) | |
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51
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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52
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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53
bouquets
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| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
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54
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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55
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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56
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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57
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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58
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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59
marionette
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| n.木偶 | |
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60
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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61
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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62
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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63
indigence
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| n.贫穷 | |
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64
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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65
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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66
callousness
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67
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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68
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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69
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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70
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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71
solidarity
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| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
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72
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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73
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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74
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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75
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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76
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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77
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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78
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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79
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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80
colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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81
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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82
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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83
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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84
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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85
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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86
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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87
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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88
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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89
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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90
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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91
dilate
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| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
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92
paralytic
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| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
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93
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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95
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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96
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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98
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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99
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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100
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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101
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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102
consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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103
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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104
petroleum
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| n.原油，石油 | |
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105
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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106
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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107
sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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108
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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109
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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110
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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111
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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112
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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113
pawned
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| v.典当，抵押( pawn的过去式和过去分词 )；以（某事物）担保 | |
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114
cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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115
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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116
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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117
affix
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| n.附件，附录 vt.附贴，盖(章)，签署 | |
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118
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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119
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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120
sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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121
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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122
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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123
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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124
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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125
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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