By O. Henry (1862–1910)
When Major Pendleton Talbot, of Mobile, sir, and his daughter, Miss Lydia Talbot, came to Washington to reside, they selected for a boarding place a house that stood fifty yards back from one of the quietest avenues. It was an old-fashioned brick building, with a portico1 upheld by tall white pillars. The yard was shaded by stately locusts2 and elms, and a catalpa tree in season rained its pink and white blossoms upon the grass. Rows of high box bushes lined the fence and walks. It was the Southern style and aspect of the place that pleased the eyes of the Talbots.
In this pleasant private boarding house they engaged rooms, including a study for Major Talbot, who was adding the finishing chapters to his book, Anecdotes3 and Reminiscences of the Alabama Army, Bench, and Bar.
Major Talbot was of the old, old South. The present day had little interest or excellence4 in his eyes. His mind lived in that period before the Civil War when the Talbots owned thousands of acres of fine cotton land and the slaves to till them; when the family mansion5 was the scene of princely hospitality, and drew its guests from the aristocracy of the South. Out of that period he had brought all its old pride and scruples6 of honor, an antiquated7 and punctilious8 politeness, and (you would think) its wardrobe.
Such clothes were surely never made within fifty years. The Major was tall, but whenever he made that wonderful, archaic9 genuflexion he called a bow, the corners of his frock coat swept the floor. That garment was a surprise even to Washington, which has long ago ceased to shy at the frocks and broad-brimmed hats of Southern Congressmen. One of the boarders christened it a “Father Hubbard,” and it certainly was high in the waist and full in the skirt.
But the Major, with all his queer clothes, his immense area of plaited, raveling shirt bosom10, and the little black string tie with the bow always slipping on one side, both was smiled at and liked in Mrs. Vardeman’s select boarding house. Some of the young department clerks would often “string him,” as they called it, getting him started upon the subject dearest to him—the traditions and history of his beloved Southland. During his talks he would quote freely from the Anecdotes and Reminiscences. But they were very careful not to let him see their designs, for in spite of his sixty-eight years he could make the boldest of them uncomfortable under the steady regard of his piercing gray eyes.
Miss Lydia was a plump, little old maid of thirty-five, with smoothly11 drawn12, tightly twisted hair that made her look still older. Old-fashioned, too, she was; but antebellum glory did not radiate from her as it did from the Major. She possessed13 a thrifty14 common sense, and it was she who handled the finances of the family, and met all comers when there were bills to pay. The Major regarded board bills and wash bills as contemptible15 nuisances. They kept coming in so persistently16 and so often. Why, the Major wanted to know, could they not be filed and paid in a lump sum at some convenient period—say when the Anecdotes and Reminiscences had been published and paid for? Miss Lydia would calmly go on with her sewing and say, “We’ll pay as we go as long as the money lasts, and then perhaps they’ll have to lump it.”
Most of Mrs. Vardeman’s boarders were away during the day, being nearly all department clerks and business men; but there was one of them who was about the house a great deal from morning to night. This was a young man named Henry Hopkins Hargraves—every one in the house addressed him by his full name—who was engaged at one of the popular vaudeville17 theaters. Vaudeville has risen to such a respectable plane in the last few years, and Mr. Hargraves was such a modest and well-mannered person, that Mrs. Vardeman could find no objection to enrolling18 him upon her list of boarders.
At the theater Hargraves was known as an all-round dialect comedian19, having a large repertoire20 of German, Irish, Swede, and black-face specialties21. But Mr. Hargraves was ambitious, and often spoke22 of his great desire to succeed in legitimate23 comedy.
This young man appeared to conceive a strong fancy for Major Talbot. Whenever that gentleman would begin his Southern reminiscences, or repeat some of the liveliest of the anecdotes, Hargraves could always be found, the most attentive24 among his listeners.
For a time the Major showed an inclination25 to discourage the advances of the “play actor,” as he privately26 termed him; but soon the young man’s agreeable manner and indubitable appreciation27 of the old gentleman’s stories completely won him over.
It was not long before the two were like old chums. The Major set apart each afternoon to read to him the manuscript of his book. During the anecdotes Hargraves never failed to laugh at exactly the right point. The Major was moved to declare to Miss Lydia one day that young Hargraves possessed remarkable28 perception and a gratifying respect for the old régime. And when it came to talking of those old days—if Major Talbot liked to talk, Mr. Hargraves was entranced to listen.
Like almost all old people who talk of the past, the Major loved to linger over details. In describing the splendid, almost royal, days of the old planters, he would hesitate until he had recalled the name of the negro who held his horse, or the exact date of certain minor29 happenings, or the number of bales of cotton raised in such a year; but Hargraves never grew impatient or lost interest. On the contrary, he would advance questions on a variety of subjects connected with the life of that time, and he never failed to extract ready replies.
The fox hunts, the ’possum suppers, the hoe-downs and jubilees30 in the negro quarters, the banquets in the plantation31-house hall, when invitations went for fifty miles around; the occasional feuds32 with the neighboring gentry33; the Major’s duel34 with Rathbone Culbertson about Kitty Chalmers, who afterward35 married a Thwaite of South Carolina; and private yacht races for fabulous36 sums on Mobile Bay; the quaint37 beliefs, improvident38 habits, and loyal virtues39 of the old slaves—all these were subjects that held both the Major and Hargraves absorbed for hours at a time.
Sometimes, at night, when the young man would be coming upstairs to his room after his turn at the theater was over, the Major would appear at the door of his study and beckon40 archly to him. Going in, Hargraves would find a little table set with a decanter, sugar bowl, fruit, and a big bunch of fresh green mint.
“It occurred to me,” the Major would begin—he was always ceremonious—“that perhaps you might have found your duties at the—at your place of occupation—sufficiently arduous41 to enable you, Mr. Hargraves, to appreciate what the poet might well have had in his mind when he wrote, ‘tired Nature’s sweet restorer’—one of our Southern juleps.”
It was a fascination42 to Hargraves to watch him make it. He took rank among artists when he began, and he never varied43 the process. With what delicacy44 he bruised45 the mint; with what exquisite46 nicety he estimated the ingredients; with what solicitous47 care he capped the compound with the scarlet48 fruit glowing against the dark green fringe! And then the hospitality and grace with which he offered it, after the selected oat straws had been plunged49 into its tinkling50 depths!
After about four months in Washington, Miss Lydia discovered one morning that they were almost without money. The Anecdotes and Reminiscences was completed, but publishers had not jumped at the collected gems51 of Alabama sense and wit. The rental52 of a small house which they still owned in Mobile was two months in arrears53. Their board money for the month would be due in three days. Miss Lydia called her father to a consultation54.
“No money?” said he with a surprised look. “It is quite annoying to be called on so frequently for these petty sums, Really, I—”
The Major searched his pockets. He found only a two-dollar bill, which he returned to his vest pocket.
“I must attend to this at once, Lydia,” he said. “Kindly get me my umbrella and I will go downtown immediately. The congressman55 from our district, General Fulghum, assured me some days ago that he would use his influence to get my book published at an early date. I will go to his hotel at once and see what arrangement has been made.”
With a sad little smile Miss Lydia watched him button his “Father Hubbard” and depart, pausing at the door, as he always did, to bow profoundly.
That evening, at dark, he returned. It seemed that Congressman Fulghum had seen the publisher who had the Major’s manuscript for reading. That person had said that if the anecdotes, etc., were carefully pruned56 down about one-half, in order to eliminate the sectional and class prejudice with which the book was dyed from end to end, he might consider its publication.
The Major was in a white heat of anger, but regained57 his equanimity58, according to his code of manners, as soon as he was in Miss Lydia’s presence.
“We must have money,” said Miss Lydia, with a little wrinkle above her nose. “Give me the two dollars, and I will telegraph to Uncle Ralph for some to-night.”
The Major drew a small envelope from his upper vest pocket and tossed it on the table.
“Perhaps it was injudicious,” he said mildly, “but the sum was so merely nominal59 that I bought tickets to the theater to-night. It’s a new war drama, Lydia. I thought you would be pleased to witness its first production in Washington. I am told that the South has very fair treatment in the play. I confess I should like to see the performance myself.”
Miss Lydia threw up her hands in silent despair.
Still, as the tickets were bought, they might as well be used. So that evening, as they sat in the theater listening to the lively overture60, even Miss Lydia was minded to relegate61 their troubles, for the hour, to second place. The Major, in spotless linen62, with his extraordinary coat showing only where it was closely buttoned, and his white hair smoothly roached, looked really fine and distinguished63. The curtain went up on the first act of A Magnolia Flower, revealing a typical Southern plantation scene. Major Talbot betrayed some interest.
“Oh, see!” exclaimed Miss Lydia, nudging his arm, and pointing to her program.
The Major put on his glasses and read the line in the cast of characters that her fingers indicated.
Col. Webster Calhoun .... Mr. Hopkins Hargraves.
“It’s our Mr. Hargraves,” said Miss Lydia. “It must be his first appearance in what he calls ‘the legitimate.’ I’m so glad for him.”
Not until the second act did Col. Webster Calhoun appear upon the stage. When he made his entry Major Talbot gave an audible sniff64, glared at him, and seemed to freeze solid. Miss Lydia uttered a little, ambiguous squeak65 and crumpled66 her program in her hand. For Colonel Calhoun was made up as nearly resembling Major Talbot as one pea does another. The long, thin white hair, curly at the ends, the aristocratic beak67 of a nose, the crumpled, wide, raveling shirt front, the string tie, with the bow nearly under one ear, were almost exactly duplicated. And then, to clinch68 the imitation, he wore the twin to the Major’s supposed to be unparalleled coat. High-collared, baggy69, empire-waisted, ample-skirted, hanging a foot lower in front than behind, the garment could have been designed from no other pattern. From then on, the Major and Miss Lydia sat bewitched, and saw the counterfeit70 presentment of a haughty72 Talbot “dragged,” as the Major afterward expressed it, “through the slanderous73 mire74 of a corrupt75 stage.”
Mr. Hargraves had used his opportunities well. He had caught the Major’s little idiosyncrasies of speech, accent, and intonation76 and his pompous77 courtliness to perfection—exaggerating all to the purpose of the stage. When he performed that marvelous bow that the Major fondly imagined to be the pink of all salutations, the audience sent forth78 a sudden round of hearty79 applause.
Miss Lydia sat immovable, not daring to glance toward her father. Sometimes her hand next to him would be laid against her cheek, as if to conceal80 the smile which, in spite of her disapproval81, she could not entirely82 suppress.
The culmination83 of Hargraves audacious imitation took place in the third act. The scene is where Colonel Calhoun entertains a few of the neighboring planters in his “den.”
Standing84 at a table in the center of the stage, with his friends grouped about him, he delivers that inimitable, rambling85 character monologue86 so famous in A Magnolia Flower, at the same time that he deftly87 makes juleps for the party.
Major Talbot, sitting quietly, but white with indignation, heard his best stories retold, his pet theories and hobbies advanced and expanded, and the dream of the Anecdotes and Reminiscences served, exaggerated and garbled88. His favorite narrative—that of his duel with Rathbone Culbertson—was not omitted, and it was delivered with more fire, egotism, and gusto than the Major himself put into it.
The monologue concluded with a quaint, delicious, witty90 little lecture on the art of concocting91 a julep, illustrated92 by the act. Here Major Talbot’s delicate but showy science was reproduced to a hair’s breadth—from his dainty handling of the fragrant93 weed—“the one-thousandth part of a grain too much pressure, gentlemen, and you extract the bitterness, instead of the aroma94, of this heaven-bestowed plant”—to his solicitous selection of the oaten straws.
At the close of the scene the audience raised a tumultuous roar of appreciation. The portrayal95 of the type was so exact, so sure and thorough, that the leading characters in the play were forgotten. After repeated calls, Hargraves came before the curtain and bowed, his rather boyish face bright and flushed with the knowledge of success.
At last Miss Lydia turned and looked at the Major. His thin nostrils96 were working like the gills of a fish. He laid both shaking hands upon the arms of his chair to rise.
“We will go, Lydia,” he said chokingly. “This is an abominable—desecration.”
Before he could rise, she pulled him back into his seat.
“We will stay it out,” she declared. “Do you want to advertise the copy by exhibiting the original coat?” So they remained to the end.
Hargraves’s success must have kept him up late that night, for neither at the breakfast nor at the dinner table did he appear.
About three in the afternoon he tapped at the door of Major Talbot’s study. The Major opened it, and Hargraves walked in with his hands full of the morning papers—too full of his triumph to notice anything unusual in the Major’s demeanor97.
“I put it all over ’em last night, Major,” he began exultantly98. “I had my inning, and, I think, scored. Here’s what The Post says:
“‘His conception and portrayal of the old-time Southern colonel, with his absurd grandiloquence99, his eccentric garb89, his quaint idioms and phrases, his motheaten pride of family, and his really kind heart, fastidious sense of honor, and lovable simplicity100, is the best delineation101 of a character role on the boards to-day. The coat worn by Colonel Calhoun is itself nothing less than an evolution of genius. Mr. Hargraves has captured his public.’
“How does that sound, Major, for a first-nighter?”
“I had the honor”—the Major’s voice sounded ominously102 frigid—“of witnessing your very remarkable performance, sir, last night.”
Hargraves looked disconcerted.
“You were there? I didn’t know you ever—I didn’t know you cared for the theater. Oh, I say, Major Talbot,” he exclaimed frankly103, “don’t you be offended. I admit I did get a lot of pointers from you that helped out wonderfully in the part. But it’s a type, you know—not individual. The way the audience caught on shows that. Half the patrons of that theater are Southerners. They recognized it.”
“Mr. Hargraves,” said the Major, who had remained standing, “you have put upon me an unpardonable insult. You have burlesqued104 my person, grossly betrayed my confidence, and misused105 my hospitality. If I thought you possessed the faintest conception of what is the sign manual of a gentleman, or what is due one, I would call you out, sir, old as I am. I will ask you to leave the room, sir.”
The actor appeared to be slightly bewildered, and seemed hardly to take in the full meaning of the old gentleman’s words.
“I am truly sorry you took offense,” he said regretfully. “Up here we don’t look at things just as you people do. I know men who would buy out half the house to have their personality put on the stage so the public would recognize it.”
“Perhaps not. I have a pretty good memory, Major; let me quote a few lines from your book. In response to a toast at a banquet given in—Milledgeville, I believe—you uttered, and intend to have printed, these words:
“‘The Northern man is utterly107 without sentiment or warmth except in so far as the feelings may be turned to his own commercial profit. He will suffer without resentment71 any imputation108 cast upon the honor of himself or his loved ones that does not bear with it the consequence of pecuniary109 loss. In his charity, he gives with a liberal hand; but it must be heralded110 with the trumpet111 and chronicled in brass112.’
“Do you think that picture is fairer than the one you saw of Colonel Calhoun last night?”
“The description,” said the Major, frowning, “is—not without grounds. Some exag—latitude must be allowed in public speaking.”
“And in public acting,” replied Hargraves.
“That is not the point,” persisted the Major, unrelenting. “It was a personal caricature. I positively113 decline to overlook it, sir.”
“Major Talbot,” said Hargraves, with a winning smile, “I wish you would understand me. I want you to know that I never dreamed of insulting you. In my profession, all life belongs to me. I take what I want, and what I can, and return it over the footlights. Now, if you will, let’s let it go at that. I came in to see you about something else. We’ve been pretty good friends for some months, and I’m going to take the risk of offending you again. I know you are hard up for money—never mind how I found out, a boarding house is no place to keep such matters secret—and I want you to let me help you out of the pinch. I’ve been there often enough myself. I’ve been getting a fair salary all the season, and I’ve saved some money. You’re welcome to a couple hundred—or even more—until you get——”
“Stop!” commanded the Major, with his arm outstretched. “It seems that my book didn’t lie, after all. You think your money salve will heal all the hurts of honor. Under no circumstances would I accept a loan from a casual acquaintance; and as to you, sir, I would starve before I would consider your insulting offer of a financial adjustment of the circumstances we have discussed. I beg to repeat my request relative to your quitting the apartment.”
Hargraves took his departure without another word. He also left the house the same day, moving, as Mrs. Vardeman explained at the supper table, nearer the vicinity of the downtown theater, where A Magnolia Flower was booked for a week’s run.
Critical was the situation with Major Talbot and Miss Lydia. There was no one in Washington to whom the Major’s scruples allowed him to apply for a loan. Miss Lydia wrote a letter to Uncle Ralph, but it was doubtful whether that relative’s constricted114 affairs would permit him to furnish help. The Major was forced to make an apologetic address to Mrs. Vardeman regarding the delayed payment for board, referring to “delinquent rentals” and “delayed remittances” in a rather confused strain.
Deliverance came from an entirely unexpected source.
Late one afternoon the door maid came up and announced an old colored man who wanted to see Major Talbot. The Major asked that he be sent up to his study. Soon an old darkey appeared in the doorway115, with his hat in hand, bowing, and scraping with one clumsy foot. He was quite decently dressed in a baggy suit of black. His big, coarse shoes shone with a metallic116 luster117 suggestive of stove polish. His bushy wool was gray—almost white. After middle life, it is difficult to estimate the age of a negro. This one might have seen as many years as had Major Talbot.
“I be bound you don’t know me, Mars’ Pendleton,” were his first words.
The Major rose and came forward at the old, familiar style of address. It was one of the old plantation darkeys without a doubt; but they had been widely scattered118, and he could not recall the voice or face.
“I don’t believe I do,” he said kindly—“unless you will assist my memory.”
“Don’t you ’member Cindy’s Mose, Mars’ Pendleton, what ’migrated ’mediately after de war?”
“Wait a moment,” said the Major, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He loved to recall everything connected with those beloved days. “Cindy’s Mose,” he reflected. “You worked among the horses—breaking the colts. Yes, I remember now. After the surrender, you took the name of—don’t prompt me—Mitchell, and went to the West—to Nebraska.”
“Yassir, yassir,”—the old man’s face stretched with a delighted grin—“dat’s him, dat’s it. Newbraska. Dat’s me—Mose Mitchell. Old Uncle Mose Mitchell, dey calls me now. Old mars’, your pa, gimme a pah of dem mule119 colts when I lef’ fur to staht me goin’ with. You ’member dem colts, Mars’ Pendleton?”
“I don’t seem to recall the colts,” said the Major. “You know. I was married the first year of the war and living at the old Follinsbee place. But sit down, sit down, Uncle Mose. I’m glad to see you. I hope you have prospered120.”
Uncle Mose took a chair and laid his hat carefully on the floor beside it.
“Yessir; of late I done mouty famous. When I first got to Newbraska, dey folks come all roun’ me to see dem mule colts. Dey ain’t see no mules121 like dem in Newbraska. I sold dem mules for three hundred dollars. Yessir—three hundred.
“Den I open a blacksmith shop, suh, and made some money and bought some lan’. Me and my old ’oman done raised up seb’m chillun, and all doin’ well ’cept two of ’em what died. Fo’ year ago a railroad come along and staht a town slam ag’inst my lan’, and, suh, Mars’ Pendleton, Uncle Mose am worth leb’m thousand dollars in money, property, and lan’.”
“And dat little baby of yo’n, Mars’ Pendleton—one what you name Miss Lyddy—I be bound dat little tad done growed up tell nobody wouldn’t know her.”
The Major stepped to the door and called: “Lydie, dear, will you come?”
Miss Lydia, looking quite grown up and a little worried, came in from her room.
“Dar, now! What’d I tell you? I knowed dat baby done be plum growed up. You don’t ’member Uncle Mose, child?”
“This is Aunt Cindy’s Mose, Lydia,” explained the Major. “He left Sunnymead for the West when you were two years old.”
“Well,” said Miss Lydia, “I can hardly be expected to remember you, Uncle Mose, at that age. And, as you say, I’m ’plum growed up,’ and was a blessed long time ago. But I’m glad to see you, even if I can’t remember you.”
And she was. And so was the Major. Something alive and tangible123 had come to link them with the happy past. The three sat and talked over the olden times, the Major and Uncle Mose correcting or prompting each other as they reviewed the plantation scenes and days.
The Major inquired what the old man was doing so far from his home.
“Uncle Mose am a delicate,” he explained, “to de grand Baptis’ convention in dis city. I never preached none, but bein’ a residin’ elder in de church, and able fur to pay my own expenses, dey sent me along.”
“And how did you know we were in Washington?” inquired Miss Lydia.
“Dey’s a cullud man works in de hotel whar I stops, what comes from Mobile. He told me he seen Mars’ Pendleton comin’ outen dish here house one mawnin’.
“What I come fur,” continued Uncle Mose, reaching into his pocket—“besides de sight of home folks—was to pay Mars’ Pendleton what I owes him.
“Yessir—three hundred dollars.” He handed the Major a roll of bills. “When I lef’ old mars’ says: ‘‘Take dem mule colts, Mose, and, if it be so you gits able, pay fur ’em.’ Yessir—dem was his words. De war had done lef’ old mars’ po’ hisself. Old mars’ bein’ long ago dead, de debt descends124 to Mars’ Pendleton. Three hundred dollars. Uncle Mose is plenty able to pay now. When dat railroad buy my lan’ I laid off to pay fur dem mules. Count de money, Mars’ Pendleton. Dat’s what I sold dem mules fur. Yessir.”
Tears were in Major Talbot’s eyes. He took Uncle Mose’s hand and laid his other upon his shoulder.
“Dear, faithful, old servitor,” he said in an unsteady voice, “I don’t mind saying to you that ‘‘Mars’ Pendleton spent his last dollar in the world a week ago. We will accept this money, Uncle Mose, since, in a way, it is a sort of payment, as well as a token of the loyalty125 and devotion of the old régime. Lydia, my dear, take the money. You are better fitted than I to manage its expenditure126.”
“Take it, honey,” said Uncle Mose. “Hit belongs to you. Hit’s Talbot money.”
After Uncle Mose had gone, Miss Lydia had a good cry—-for joy; and the Major turned his face to a corner, and smoked his clay pipe volcanically127.
The succeeding days saw the Talbots restored to peace and ease. Miss Lydia’s face lost its worried look. The major appeared in a new frock coat, in which he looked like a wax figure personifying the memory of his golden age. Another publisher who read the manuscript of the Anecdotes and Reminiscences thought that, with a little retouching and toning down of the high lights, he could make a really bright and salable128 volume of it. Altogether, the situation was comfortable, and not without the touch of hope that is often sweeter than arrived blessings129.
One day, about a week after their piece of good luck, a maid brought a letter for Miss Lydia to her room. The postmark showed that it was from New York. Not knowing any one there, Miss Lydia, in a mild flutter of wonder, sat down by her table and opened the letter with her scissors. This was what she read:
Dear Miss Talbot:
I thought you might be glad to learn of my good fortune. I have received and accepted an offer of two hundred dollars per week by a New York stock company to play Colonel Calhoun in A Magnolia Flower.
There is something else I wanted you to know. I guess you’d better not tell Major Talbot. I was anxious to make him some amends130 for the great help he was to me in studying the part, and for the bad humor he was in about it. He refused to let me, so I did it anyhow. I could easily spare the three hundred.
Sincerely yours,
H. Hopkins Hargraves.
P.S. How did I play Uncle Mose?
Major Talbot, passing through the hall, saw Miss Lydia’s door open and stopped.
“Any mail for us this morning, Lydia, dear?” he asked.
Miss Lydia slid the letter beneath a fold of her dress.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
portico
|
|
| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
locusts
|
|
| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
anecdotes
|
|
| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
excellence
|
|
| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
antiquated
|
|
| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
punctilious
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
archaic
|
|
| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
thrifty
|
|
| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
contemptible
|
|
| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
persistently
|
|
| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
vaudeville
|
|
| n.歌舞杂耍表演 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
enrolling
|
|
| v.招收( enrol的现在分词 )；吸收；入学；加入；[亦作enrol]( enroll的现在分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
comedian
|
|
| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
repertoire
|
|
| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
specialties
|
|
| n.专门，特性，特别；专业( specialty的名词复数 )；特性；特制品；盖印的契约 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
jubilees
|
|
| n.周年纪念( jubilee的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
31
plantation
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
feuds
|
|
| n.长期不和，世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
gentry
|
|
| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
duel
|
|
| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
fabulous
|
|
| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
improvident
|
|
| adj.不顾将来的，不节俭的，无远见的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
beckon
|
|
| v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意，召唤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
arduous
|
|
| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
bruised
|
|
| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
solicitous
|
|
| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
gems
|
|
| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
rental
|
|
| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
arrears
|
|
| n.到期未付之债，拖欠的款项；待做的工作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
Congressman
|
|
| n.（美）国会议员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
pruned
|
|
| v.修剪（树木等）( prune的过去式和过去分词 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
equanimity
|
|
| n.沉着，镇定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
nominal
|
|
| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
overture
|
|
| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
relegate
|
|
| v.使降级，流放，移交，委任 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
sniff
|
|
| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
squeak
|
|
| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
crumpled
|
|
| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
beak
|
|
| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
clinch
|
|
| v.敲弯，钉牢；确定；扭住对方 [参]clench | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
baggy
|
|
| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
counterfeit
|
|
| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
slanderous
|
|
| adj.诽谤的，中伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
mire
|
|
| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
corrupt
|
|
| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
intonation
|
|
| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
disapproval
|
|
| n.反对，不赞成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
culmination
|
|
| n.顶点；最高潮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
rambling
|
|
| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
monologue
|
|
| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
deftly
|
|
| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
garbled
|
|
| adj.（指信息）混乱的，引起误解的v.对（事实）歪曲，对（文章等）断章取义，窜改( garble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
garb
|
|
| n.服装，装束 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
witty
|
|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
concocting
|
|
| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的现在分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
fragrant
|
|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
aroma
|
|
| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
portrayal
|
|
| n.饰演；描画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
demeanor
|
|
| n.行为；风度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
exultantly
|
|
| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
grandiloquence
|
|
| n.夸张之言，豪言壮语，豪语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
100
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
delineation
|
|
| n.记述；描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
ominously
|
|
| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
burlesqued
|
|
| v.（嘲弄地）模仿，（通过模仿）取笑( burlesque的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
misused
|
|
| v.使用…不当( misuse的过去式和过去分词 )；把…派作不正当的用途；虐待；滥用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
haughtily
|
|
| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
imputation
|
|
| n.归罪，责难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
pecuniary
|
|
| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
heralded
|
|
| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
trumpet
|
|
| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
constricted
|
|
| adj.抑制的，约束的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
metallic
|
|
| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
luster
|
|
| n.光辉；光泽，光亮；荣誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
mule
|
|
| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
prospered
|
|
| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
mules
|
|
| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
descends
|
|
| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
volcanically
|
|
| adv.火山似地，猛烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
128
salable
|
|
| adj.有销路的，适销的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
blessings
|
|
| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
amends
|
|
| n. 赔偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |