I AM NOT a doctor, but yet I feel that the moment has come when I must inevitably1 give the reader some account of the nature of Ivan’s illness. Anticipating events I can say at least one thing: he was at that moment on the very eve of an attack of brain fever. Though his health had long been affected2, it had offered a stubborn resistance to the fever which in the end gained complete mastery over it. Though I know nothing of medicine, I venture to hazard the suggestion that he really had perhaps, by a terrible effort of will, succeeded in delaying the attack for a time, hoping, of course, to check it completely. He knew that he was unwell, but he loathed3 the thought of being ill at that fatal time, at the approaching crisis in his life, when he needed to have all his wits about him, to say what he had to say boldly and resolutely4 and “to justify5 himself to himself.”
He had, however, consulted the new doctor, who had been brought from Moscow by a fantastic notion of Katerina Ivanovna’s to which I have referred already. After listening to him and examining him the doctor came to the conclusion that he was actually suffering from some disorder6 of the brain, and was not at all surprised by an admission which Ivan had reluctantly made him. “Hallucinations are quite likely in your condition,” the doctor opined, ‘though it would be better to verify them . . . you must take steps at once, without a moment’s delay, or things will go badly with you.” But Ivan did not follow this judicious7 advice and did not take to his bed to be nursed. “I am walking about, so I am strong enough, if I drop, it’ll be different then, anyone may nurse me who likes,” he decided8, dismissing the subject.
And so he was sitting almost conscious himself of his delirium9 and, as I have said already, looking persistently11 at some object on the sofa against the opposite wall. Someone appeared to be sitting there, though goodness knows how he had come in, for he had not been in the room when Ivan came into it, on his return from Smerdyakov. This was a person or, more accurately12 speaking, a Russian gentleman of a particular kind, no longer young, qui faisait la cinquantaine,19 as the French say, with rather long, still thick, dark hair, slightly streaked13 with grey and a small pointed14 beard. He was wearing a brownish reefer jacket, rather shabby, evidently made by a good tailor though, and of a fashion at least three years old, that had been discarded by smart and well-to-do people for the last two years. His linen15 and his long scarf-like neck-tie were all such as are worn by people who aim at being stylish16, but on closer inspection17 his linen was not overclean and his wide scarf was very threadbare. The visitor’s check trousers were of excellent cut, but were too light in colour and too tight for the present fashion. His soft fluffy18 white hat was out of keeping with the season.
19 Fiftyish.
In brief there was every appearance of gentility on straitened means. It looked as though the gentleman belonged to that class of idle landowners who used to flourish in the times of serfdom. He had unmistakably been, at some time, in good and fashionable society, had once had good connections, had possibly preserved them indeed, but, after a gay youth, becoming gradually impoverished20 on the abolition21 of serfdom, he had sunk into the position of a poor relation of the best class, wandering from one good old friend to another and received by them for his companionable and accommodating disposition22 and as being, after all, a gentleman who could be asked to sit down with anyone, though, of course, not in a place of honour. Such gentlemen of accommodating temper and dependent position, who can tell a story, take a hand at cards, and who have a distinct aversion for any duties that may be forced upon them, are usually solitary23 creatures, either bachelors or widowers24. Sometimes they have children, but if so, the children are always being brought up at a distance, at some aunt’s, to whom these gentlemen never allude25 in good society, seeming ashamed of the relationship. They gradually lose sight of their children altogether, though at intervals26 they receive a birthday or Christmas letter from them and sometimes even answer it.
The countenance27 of the unexpected visitor was not so much good-natured, as accommodating and ready to assume any amiable28 expression as occasion might arise. He had no watch, but he had a tortoise-shell lorgnette on a black ribbon. On the middle finger of his right hand was a massive gold ring with a cheap opal stone in it.
Ivan was angrily silent and would not begin the conversation. The visitor waited and sat exactly like a poor relation who had come down from his room to keep his host company at tea, and was discreetly29 silent, seeing that his host was frowning and preoccupied30. But he was ready for any affable conversation as soon as his host should begin it. All at once his face expressed a sudden solicitude31.
“I say,” he began to Ivan, “excuse me, I only mention it to remind you. You went to Smerdyakov’s to find out about Katerina Ivanovna, but you came away without finding out anything about her, you probably forgot-”
“Ah, yes.” broke from Ivan and his face grew gloomy with uneasiness. “Yes, I’d forgotten . . . but it doesn’t matter now, never mind, till to-morrow,” he muttered to himself, “and you,” he added, addressing his visitor, “I should have remembered that myself in a minute, for that was just what was tormenting32 me! Why do you interfere33, as if I should believe that you prompted me, and that I didn’t remember it of myself?”
“Don’t believe it then,” said the gentleman, smiling amicably34, “what’s the good of believing against your will? Besides, proofs are no help to believing, especially material proofs. Thomas believed, not because he saw Christ risen, but because he wanted to believe, before he saw. Look at the spiritualists, for instance. . . . I am very fond of them . . . only fancy, they imagine that they are serving the cause of religion, because the devils show them their horns from the other world. That, they say, is a material proof, so to speak, of the existence of another world. The other world and material proofs, what next! And if you come to that, does proving there’s a devil prove that there’s a God? I want to join an idealist society, I’ll lead the opposition35 in it, I’ll say I am a realist, but not a materialist36, he he!”
“Listen,” Ivan suddenly got up from the table. “I seem to be delirious37 . . . I am delirious, in fact, talk any nonsense you like, I don’t care! You won’t drive me to fury, as you did last time. But I feel somehow ashamed . . . I want to walk about the room. . . . I sometimes don’t see you and don’t even hear your voice as I did last time, but I always guess what you are prating38, for it’s I, I myself speaking, not you. Only I don’t know whether I was dreaming last time or whether I really saw you. I’ll wet a towel and put it on my head and perhaps you’ll vanish into air.”
Ivan went into the corner, took a towel, and did as he said, and with a wet towel on his head began walking up and down the room.
“I am so glad you treat me so familiarly,” the visitor began.
“Fool,” laughed Ivan, “do you suppose I should stand on ceremony with you? I am in good spirits now, though I’ve a pain in my forehead . . . and in the top of my head . . . only please don’t talk philosophy, as you did last time. If you can’t take yourself off, talk of something amusing. Talk gossip, you are a poor relation, you ought to talk gossip. What a nightmare to have! But I am not afraid of you. I’ll get the better of you. I won’t be taken to a mad-house!”
“C’est charmant, poor relation. Yes, I am in my natural shape. For what am I on earth but a poor relation? By the way, I am listening to you and am rather surprised to find you are actually beginning to take me for something real, not simply your fancy, as you persisted in declaring last time-”
“Never for one minute have I taken you for reality,” Ivan cried with a sort of fury. “You are a lie, you are my illness, you are a phantom39. It’s only that I don’t know how to destroy you and I see I must suffer for a time. You are my hallucination. You are the incarnation of myself, but only of one side of me . . . of my thoughts and feelings, but only the nastiest and stupidest of them. From that point of view you might be of interest to me, if only I had time to waste on you-”
“Excuse me, excuse me, I’ll catch you. When you flew out at Alyosha under the lamp-post this evening and shouted to him, ‘You learnt it from him! How do you know that he visits me?’ You were thinking of me then. So for one brief moment you did believe that I really exist,” the gentleman laughed blandly40.
“Yes, that was a moment of weakness . . . but I couldn’t believe in you. I don’t know whether I was asleep or awake last time. Perhaps I was only dreaming then and didn’t see you really at all-”
“And why were you so surly with Alyosha just now? He is a dear; I’ve treated him badly over Father Zossima.”
“Don’t talk of Alyosha! How dare you, you flunkey!” Ivan laughed again.
“You scold me, but you laugh — that’s a good sign. But you are ever so much more polite than you were last time and I know why: that great resolution of yours-”
“Don’t speak of my resolution,” cried Ivan, savagely42.
“I understand, I understand, c’est noble, c’est charmant, you are going to defend your brother and to sacrifice yourself . . . C’est chevaleresque.”
“Hold your tongue, I’ll kick you!”
“I shan’t be altogether sorry, for then my object will be attained43. If you kick me, you must believe in my reality, for people don’t kick ghosts. Joking apart, it doesn’t matter to me, scold if you like, though it’s better to be a trifle more polite even to me. ‘Fool, flunkey!’ what words!”
“Scolding you, I scold myself,” Ivan laughed again, “you are myself, myself, only with a different face. You just say what I am thinking . . . and are incapable44 of saying anything new!”
“If I am like you in my way of thinking, it’s all to my credit,” the gentleman declared, with delicacy45 and dignity.
“You choose out only my worst thoughts, and what’s more, the stupid ones. You are stupid and vulgar. You are awfully46 stupid. No, I can’t put up with you! What am I to do, what am I to do?” Ivan said through his clenched47 teeth.
“My dear friend, above all things I want to behave like a gentleman and to be recognised as such,” the visitor began in an access of deprecating and simple-hearted pride, typical of a poor relation. “I am poor, but . . . I won’t say very honest, but . . . it’s an axiom generally accepted in society that I am a fallen angel. I certainly can’t conceive how I can ever have been an angel. If I ever was, it must have been so long ago that there’s no harm in forgetting it. Now I only prize the reputation of being a gentlemanly person and live as I can, trying to make myself agreeable. I love men genuinely, I’ve been greatly calumniated48! Here when I stay with you from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that’s what I like most of all. You see, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed49, here all is formulated50 and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious51. Please don’t laugh, that’s just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I’ve grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it? and I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate52 once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant’s wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings. I like being doctored too; in the spring there was an outbreak of smallpox53 and I went and was vaccinated54 in a foundling hospital — if only you knew how I enjoyed myself that day. I subscribed55 ten roubles in the cause of the Slavs! . . . But you are not listening. Do you know, you are not at all well this evening? I know you went yesterday to that doctor . . . well, what about your health? What did the doctor say?”
“Fool!” Ivan snapped out.
“But you are clever, anyway. You are scolding again? I didn’t ask out of sympathy. You needn’t answer. Now rheumatism56 has come in again-”
“Fool!” repeated Ivan.
“You keep saying the same thing; but I had such an attack of rheumatism last year that I remember it to this day.”
“The devil have rheumatism!”
“Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto.”20
20 I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.
“What, what, Satan sum et nihil humanum . . . that’s not bad for the devil!”
“I am glad I’ve pleased you at last.”
“But you didn’t get that from me.” Ivan stopped suddenly, seeming struck. “That never entered my head, that’s strange.”
“C’est du nouveau, n’est-ce pas?”21 This time I’ll act honestly and explain to you. Listen, in dreams and especially in nightmares, from indigestion or anything, a man sees sometimes such artistic57 visions, such complex and real actuality, such events, even a whole world of events, woven into such a plot, with such unexpected details from the most exalted58 matters to the last button on a cuff59, as I swear Leo Tolstoy has never invented. Yet such dreams are sometimes seen not by writers, but by the most ordinary people, officials, journalists, priests. . . . The subject is a complete enigma60. A statesman confessed to me, indeed, that all his best ideas came to him when he was asleep. Well, that’s how it is now, though I am your hallucination, yet just as in a nightmare, I say original things which had not entered your head before. So I don’t repeat your ideas, yet I am only your nightmare, nothing more.”
21 It’s new, isn’t it?
“You are lying, your aim is to convince me you exist apart and are not my nightmare, and now you are asserting you are a dream.”
“My dear fellow, I’ve adopted a special method to-day, I’ll explain it to you afterwards. Stay, where did I break off? Oh, yes! I caught cold then, only not here but yonder.”
“Where is yonder? Tell me, will you be here long. Can’t you go away?” Ivan exclaimed almost in despair. He ceased walking to and fro, sat down on the sofa, leaned his elbows on the table again and held his head tight in both hands. He pulled the wet towel off and flung it away in vexation. It was evidently of no use.
“Your nerves are out of order,” observed the gentleman, with a carelessly easy, though perfectly61 polite, air. “You are angry with me even for being able to catch cold, though it happened in a most natural way. I was hurrying then to a diplomatic soiree at the house of a lady of high rank in Petersburg, who was aiming at influence in the Ministry62. Well, an evening suit, white tie, gloves, though I was God knows where and had to fly through space to reach your earth. . . . Of course, it took only an instant, but you know a ray of light from the sun takes full eight minutes, and fancy in an evening suit and open waistcoat. Spirits don’t freeze, but when one’s in fleshly form, well . . . in brief, I didn’t think, and set off, and you know in those ethereal spaces, in the water that is above the firmament63, there’s such a frost . . . at least one can’t call it frost, you fancy, 150 degrees below zero! You know the game the village girls play — they invite the unwary to lick an axe64 in thirty degrees of frost, the tongue instantly freezes to it and the dupe tears the skin off, so it bleeds. But that’s only in 30 degrees, in 150 degrees I imagine it would be enough to put your finger on the axe and it would be the end of it . . . if only there could be an axe there.”
“And can there be an axe there?” Ivan interrupted, carelessly and disdainfully. He was exerting himself to the utmost not to believe in the delusion65 and not to sink into complete insanity66
“An axe?” the guest interrupted in surprise.
“Yes, what would become of an axe there?” Ivan cried suddenly, with a sort of savage41 and insistent67 obstinacy68.
“What would become of an axe in space? Quelle idee! If it were to fall to any distance, it would begin, I think, flying round the earth without knowing why, like a satellite. The astronomers69 would calculate the rising and the setting of the axe; Gatzuk would put it in his calendar, that’s all.”
“You are stupid, awfully stupid,” said Ivan peevishly70. “Fib more cleverly or I won’t listen. You want to get the better of me by realism, to convince me that you exist, but I don’t want to believe you exist! I won’t believe it!”
“But I am not fibbing, it’s all the truth; the truth is unhappily hardly ever amusing. I see you persist in expecting something big of me, and perhaps something fine. That’s a great pity, for I only give what I can-”
“Don’t talk philosophy, you ass19!”
“Philosophy, indeed, when all my right side is numb71 and I am moaning and groaning72. I’ve tried all the medical faculty73: they can diagnose beautifully, they have the whole of your disease at their finger-tips, but they’ve no idea how to cure you. There was an enthusiastic little student here, ‘You may die,’ said he, ‘but you’ll know perfectly what disease you are dying of!’ And then what a way they have of sending people to specialists! ‘We only diagnose,’ they say, ‘but go to such-and-such a specialist, he’ll cure you.’ The old doctor who used to cure all sorts of disease has completely disappeared, I assure you, now there are only specialists and they all advertise in the newspapers. If anything is wrong with your nose, they send you to Paris: there, they say, is a European specialist who cures noses. If you go to Paris, he’ll look at your nose; I can only cure your right nostril74, he’ll tell you, for I don’t cure the left nostril, that’s not my speciality, but go to Vienna, there there’s a specialist who will cure your left nostril. What are you to do? I fell back on popular remedies, a German doctor advised me to rub myself with honey and salt in the bath-house. Solely75 to get an extra bath I went, smeared76 myself all over and it did me no good at all. In despair I wrote to Count Mattei in Milan. He sent me a book and some drops, bless him, and, only fancy, Hoff’s malt extract cured me! I bought it by accident, drank a bottle and a half of it, and I was ready to dance, it took it away completely. I made up my mind to write to the papers to thank him, I was prompted by a feeling of gratitude77, and only fancy, it led to no end of a bother: not a single paper would take my letter. ‘It would be very reactionary78,’ they said, ‘none will believe it. Le diable n’existe point.22 You’d better remain anonymous79,’ they advised me. What use is a letter of thanks if it’s anonymous? I laughed with the men at the newspaper office; ‘It’s reactionary to believe in God in our days,’ I said, ‘but I am the devil, so I may be believed in.’ ‘We quite understand that,’ they said. ‘Who doesn’t believe in the devil? Yet it won’t do, it might injure our reputation. As a joke, if you like.’ But I thought as a joke it wouldn’t be very witty80. So it wasn’t printed. And do you know, I have felt sore about it to this day. My best feelings, gratitude, for instance, are literally81 denied me simply from my social position.”
22 The devil does not exist.
“Philosophical reflections again?” Ivan snarled82 malignantly83.
“God preserve me from it, but one can’t help complaining sometimes. I am a slandered84 man. You upbraid85 me every moment with being stupid. One can see you are young. My dear fellow, intelligence isn’t the only thing! I have naturally a kind and merry heart. ‘I also write vaudevilles of all sorts.’ You seem to take me for Hlestakov grown old, but my fate is a far more serious one. Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I was predestined ‘to deny’ and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation86. ‘No, you must go and deny, without denial there’s no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?’ Without criticism it would be nothing but one ‘hosannah.’ But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible87 of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don’t meddle88 in that, I didn’t create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they’ve chosen their scapegoat89, they’ve made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible. We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there’d be nothing without you. If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what’s irrational91 because I am commanded to. For all their indisputable intelligence, men take this farce92 as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course . . . but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don’t live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. You are laughing — no, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are for ever angry, all you care about is intelligence, but I repeat again that I would give away all this superstellar life, all the ranks and honours, simply to be transformed into the soul of a merchant’s wife weighing eighteen stone and set candles at God’s shrine93.”
“Then even you don’t believe in God?” said Ivan, with a smile of hatred94.
“What can I say? — that is, if you are in earnest-”
“Is there a God or not?” Ivan cried with the same savage intensity95.
“Ah, then you are in earnest! My dear fellow, upon my word I don’t know. There! I’ve said it now!”
“You don’t know, but you see God? No, you are not someone apart, you are myself, you are I and nothing more! You are rubbish, you are my fancy!”
“Well, if you like, I have the same philosophy as you, that would be true. Je pense, donc je suis,23 I know that for a fact; all the rest, all these worlds, God and even Satan — all that is not proved, to my mind. Does all that exist of itself, or is it only an emanation of myself, a logical development of my ego90 which alone has existed for ever: but I make haste to stop, for I believe you will be jumping up to beat me directly.”
23 I think, therefore I am.
“You’d better tell me some anecdote96!” said Ivan miserably97.
“There is an anecdote precisely98 on our subject, or rather a legend, not an anecdote. You reproach me with unbelief; you see, you say, yet you don’t believe. But, my dear fellow, I am not the only one like that. We are all in a muddle99 over there now and all through your science. Once there used to be atoms, five senses, four elements, and then everything hung together somehow. There were atoms in the ancient world even, but since we’ve learned that you’ve discovered the chemical molecule100 and protoplasm and the devil knows what, we had to lower our crest101. There’s a regular muddle, and, above all, superstition102, scandal; there’s as much scandal among us as among you, you know; a little more in fact, and spying, indeed, for we have our secret police department where private information is received. Well, this wild legend belongs to our middle ages — not yours, but ours — and no one believes it even among us, except the old ladies of eighteen stone, not your old ladies I mean, but ours. We’ve everything you have, I am revealing one of our secrets out of friendship for you; though it’s forbidden. This legend is about Paradise. There was, they say, here on earth a thinker and philosopher. He rejected everything, ‘laws, conscience, faith,’ and, above all, the future life. He died; he expected to go straight to darkness and death and he found a future life before him. He was astounded103 and indignant. ‘This is against my principles!’ he said. And he was punished for that . . . that is, you must excuse me, I am just repeating what I heard myself, it’s only a legend . . . he was sentenced to walk a quadrillion kilometres in the dark (we’ve adopted the metric system, you know): and when he has finished that quadrillion, the gates of heaven would be opened to him and he’ll be forgiven-”
“And what tortures have you in the other world besides the quadrillion kilometres?” asked Ivan, with a strange eagerness.
“What tortures? Ah, don’t ask. In old days we had all sorts, but now they have taken chiefly to moral punishments — ‘the stings of conscience’ and all that nonsense. We got that, too, from you, from the softening104 of your manners. And who’s the better for it? Only those who have got no conscience, for how can they be tortured by conscience when they have none? But decent people who have conscience and a sense of honour suffer for it. Reforms, when the ground has not been prepared for them, especially if they are institutions copied from abroad, do nothing but mischief105! The ancient fire was better. Well, this man, who was condemned106 to the quadrillion kilometres, stood still, looked round and lay down across the road. ‘I won’t go, I refuse on principle!’ Take the soul of an enlightened Russian atheist107 and mix it with the soul of the prophet Jonah, who sulked for three days and nights in the belly108 of the whale, and you get the character of that thinker who lay across the road.”
“What did he lie on there?”
“Well, I suppose there was something to lie on. You are not laughing?”
“Bravo!” cried Ivan, still with the same strange eagerness. Now he was listening with an unexpected curiosity. “Well, is he lying there now?”
“That’s the point, that he isn’t. He lay there almost a thousand years and then he got up and went on.”
“What an ass!” cried Ivan, laughing nervously109 and still seeming to be pondering something intently. “Does it make any difference whether he lies there for ever or walks the quadrillion kilometres? It would take a billion years to walk it?”
“Much more than that. I haven’t got a pencil and paper or I could work it out. But he got there long ago, and that’s where the story begins.”
“What, he got there? But how did he get the billion years to do it?”
“Why, you keep thinking of our present earth! But our present earth may have been repeated a billion times. Why, it’s become extinct, been frozen; cracked, broken to bits, disintegrated110 into its elements, again ‘the water above the firmament,’ then again a comet, again a sun, again from the sun it becomes earth — and the same sequence may have been repeated endlessly and exactly the same to every detail, most unseemly and insufferably tedious-”
“Well, well, what happened when he arrived?”
“Why, the moment the gates of Paradise were open and he walked in; before he had been there two seconds, by his watch (though to my thinking his watch must have long dissolved into its elements on the way), he cried out that those two seconds were worth walking not a quadrillion kilometres but a quadrillion of quadrillions, raised to the quadrillionth power! In fact, he sang ‘hosannah’ and overdid111 it so, that some persons there of lofty ideas wouldn’t shake hands with him at first — he’d become too rapidly reactionary, they said. The Russian temperament112. I repeat, it’s a legend. I give it for what it’s worth, so that’s the sort of ideas we have on such subjects even now.”
“I’ve caught you!” Ivan cried, with an almost childish delight, as though he had succeeded in remembering something at last. “That anecdote about the quadrillion years, I made up myself! I was seventeen then, I was at the high school. I made up that anecdote and told it to a schoolfellow called Korovkin, it was at Moscow. . . . The anecdote is so characteristic that I couldn’t have taken it from anywhere. I thought I’d forgotten it . . . but I’ve unconsciously recalled it — I recalled it myself — it was not you telling it! Thousands of things are unconsciously remembered like that even when people are being taken to execution . . . it’s come back to me in a dream. You are that dream! You are a dream, not a living creature!”
“From the vehemence113 with which you deny my existence,” laughed the gentleman, “I am convinced that you believe in me.”
“Not in the slightest! I haven’t a hundredth part of a grain of faith in you!”
“But you have the thousandth of a grain. Homeopathic doses perhaps are the strongest. Confess that you have faith even to the ten-thousandth of a grain.”
“Not for one minute,” cried Ivan furiously. “But I should like to believe in you,” he added strangely.
“Aha! There’s an admission! But I am good-natured. I’ll come to your assistance again. Listen, it was I caught you, not you me. I told you your anecdote you’d forgotten, on purpose, so as to destroy your faith in me completely.”
“You are lying. The object of your visit is to convince me of your existence!”
“Just so. But hesitation114, suspense115, conflict between belief and disbelief — is sometimes such torture to a conscientious116 man, such as you are, that it’s better to hang oneself at once. Knowing that you are inclined to believe in me, I administered some disbelief by telling you that anecdote. I lead you to belief and disbelief by turns, and I have my motive117 in it. It’s the new method. As soon as you disbelieve in me completely, you’ll begin assuring me to my face that I am not a dream but a reality. I know you. Then I shall have attained my object, which is an honourable118 one. I shall sow in you only a tiny grain of faith and it will grow into an oak-tree — and such an oak-tree that, sitting on it, you will long to enter the ranks of ‘the hermits119 in the wilderness120 and the saintly women,’ for that is what you are secretly longing121 for. You’ll dine on locusts122, you’ll wander into the wilderness to save your soul!”
“Then it’s for the salvation123 of my soul you are working, is it, you scoundrel?”
“One must do a good work sometimes. How ill-humoured you are!”
“Fool! did you ever tempt124 those holy men who ate locusts and prayed seventeen years in the wilderness till they were overgrown with moss125?”
“My dear fellow, I’ve done nothing else. One forgets the whole world and all the worlds, and sticks to one such saint, because he is a very precious diamond. One such soul, you know, is sometimes worth a whole constellation126. We have our system of reckoning, you know. The conquest is priceless! And some of them, on my word, are not inferior to you in culture, though you won’t believe it. They can contemplate127 such depths of belief and disbelief at the same moment that sometimes it really seems that they are within a hair’s-breadth of being ‘turned upside down,’ as the actor Gorbunov says.”
“Well, did you get your nose pulled?”
“My dear fellow,” observed the visitor sententiously, “it’s better to get off with your nose pulled than without a nose at all. As an afflicted128 marquis observed not long ago (he must have been treated by a specialist) in confession129 to his spiritual father — a Jesuit. I was present, it was simply charming. ‘Give me back my nose!’ he said, and he beat his breast. ‘My son,’ said the priest evasively, ‘all things are accomplished130 in accordance with the inscrutable decrees of Providence131, and what seems a misfortune sometimes leads to extraordinary, though unapparent, benefits. If stern destiny has deprived you of your nose, it’s to your advantage that no one can ever pull you by your nose.’ ‘Holy father, that’s no comfort,’ cried the despairing marquis. ‘I’d be delighted to have my nose pulled every day of my life, if it were only in its proper place.’ ‘My son,’ sighs the priest, ‘you can’t expect every blessing132 at once. This is murmuring against Providence, who even in this has not forgotten you, for if you repine as you repined just now, declaring you’d be glad to have your nose pulled for the rest of your life, your desire has already been fulfilled indirectly133, for when you lost your nose, you were led by the nose.’
“Fool, how stupid!” cried Ivan.
“My dear friend, I only wanted to amuse you. But I swear that’s the genuine Jesuit casuistry and I swear that it all happened word for word as I’ve told you. It happened lately and gave me a great deal of trouble. The unhappy young man shot himself that very night when he got home. I was by his side till the very last moment. Those Jesuit confessionals are really my most delightful134 diversion at melancholy135 moments. Here’s another incident that happened only the other day. A little blonde Norman girl of twenty — a buxom136, unsophisticated beauty that would make your mouth water — comes to an old priest. She bends down and whispers her sin into the grating. ‘Why, my daughter, have you fallen again already?’ cries the priest: ‘O Sancta Maria, what do I hear! Not the same man this time, how long is this going on? Aren’t you ashamed!’ ‘Ah, mon pere,’ answers the sinner with tears of penitence137, ‘Ca lui fait tant de plaisir, et a moi si peu de peine!’24 Fancy, such an answer! I drew back. It was the cry of nature, better than innocence138 itself, if you like. I absolved139 her sin on the spot and was turning to go, but I was forced to turn back. I heard the priest at the grating making an appointment with her for the evening — though he was an old man hard as flint, he fell in an instant! It was nature, the truth of nature asserted its rights! What, you are turning up your nose again? Angry again? I don’t know how to please you-”
24 Ah, my father, this gives him so much pleasure, and me so little pain!
“Leave me alone, you are beating on my brain like a haunting nightmare,” Ivan moaned miserably, helpless before his apparition140. “I am bored with you, agonisingly and insufferably. I would give anything to be able to shake you off!”
“I repeat, moderate your expectations, don’t demand of me ‘everything great and noble,’ and you’ll see how well we shall get on,” said the gentleman impressively. “You are really angry with me for not having appeared to you in a red glow, with thunder and lightning, with scorched141 wings, but have shown myself in such a modest form. You are wounded, in the first place, in your asthetic feelings, and, secondly142, in your pride. How could such a vulgar devil visit such a great man as you! Yes, there is that romantic strain in you, that was so derided143 by Byelinsky. I can’t help it, young man, as I got ready to come to you I did think as a joke of appearing in the figure of a retired144 general who had served in the Caucasus, with a star of the Lion and the Sun on my coat. But I was positively145 afraid of doing it, for you’d have thrashed me for daring to pin the Lion and the Sun on my coat, instead of, at least, the Polar Star or the Sirius. And you keep on saying I am stupid, but, mercy on us! I make no claim to be equal to you in intelligence. Mephistopheles declared to Faust that he desired evil, but did only good. Well, he can say what he likes, it’s quite the opposite with me. I am perhaps the one man in all creation who loves the truth and genuinely desires good. I was there when the Word, Who died on the Cross, rose up into heaven bearing on His bosom146 the soul of the penitent147 thief. I heard the glad shrieks148 of the cherubim singing and shouting hosannah and the thunderous rapture149 of the seraphim150 which shook heaven and all creation, and I swear to you by all that’s sacred, I longed to join the choir151 and shout hosannah with them all. The word had almost escaped me, had almost broken from my lips . . . you know how susceptible152 and aesthetically153 impressionable I am. But common sense — oh, a most unhappy trait in my character — kept me in due bounds and I let the moment pass! For what would have happened, I reflected, what would have happened after my hosannah? Everything on earth would have been extinguished at once and no events could have occurred. And so, solely from a sense of duty and my social position, was forced to suppress the good moment and to stick to my nasty task. Somebody takes all the credit of what’s good for Himself, and nothing but nastiness is left for me. But I don’t envy the honour of a life of idle imposture154, I am not ambitious. Why am I, of all creatures in the world, doomed155 to be cursed by all decent people and even to be kicked, for if I put on mortal form I am bound to take such consequences sometimes? I know, of course, there’s a secret in it, but they won’t tell me the secret for anything, for then perhaps, seeing the meaning of it, I might bawl156 hosannah, and the indispensable minus would disappear at once, and good sense would reign157 supreme158 throughout the whole world. And that, of course, would mean the end of everything, even of magazines and newspapers, for who would take them in? I know that at the end of all things I shall be reconciled. I, too, shall walk my quadrillion and learn the secret. But till that happens I am sulking and fulfil my destiny though it’s against the grain — that is, to ruin thousands for the sake of saving one. How many souls have had to be ruined and how many honourable reputations destroyed for the sake of that one righteous man, Job, over whom they made such a fool of me in old days! Yes, till the secret is revealed, there are two sorts of truths for me — one, their truth, yonder, which I know nothing about so far, and the other my own. And there’s no knowing which will turn out the better. . . . Are you asleep?”
“I might well be,” Ivan groaned159 angrily. “All my stupid ideas — outgrown160, thrashed out long ago, and flung aside like a dead carcass you present to me as something new!”
“There’s no pleasing you! And I thought I should fascinate you by my literary style. That hosannah in the skies really wasn’t bad, was it? And then that ironical161 tone a la Heine, eh?”
“No, I was never such a flunkey! How then could my soul beget162 a flunkey like you?”
“My dear fellow, I know a most charming and attractive young Russian gentleman, a young thinker and a great lover of literature and art, the author of a promising163 poem entitled The Grand Inquisitor. I was only thinking of him!”
“I forbid you to speak of The Grand Inquisitor,” cried Ivan, crimson164 with shame.
“And the Geological Cataclysm165. Do you remember? That was a poem, now!”
“Hold your tongue, or I’ll kill you!”
“You’ll kill me? No, excuse me, I will speak. I came to treat myself to that pleasure. Oh, I love the dreams of my ardent166 young friends, quivering with eagerness for life! ‘There are new men,’ you decided last spring, when you were meaning to come here, ‘they propose to destroy everything and begin with cannibalism167. Stupid fellows! they didn’t ask my advice! I maintain that nothing need be destroyed, that we only need to destroy the idea of God in man, that’s how we have to set to work. It’s that, that we must begin with. Oh, blind race of men who have no understanding! As soon as men have all of them denied God — and I believe that period, analogous168 with geological periods, will come to pass — the old conception of the universe will fall of itself without cannibalism, and, what’s more, the old morality, and everything will begin anew. Men will unite to take from life all it can give, but only for joy and happiness in the present world. Man will be lifted up with a spirit of divine Titanic169 pride and the man-god will appear. From hour to hour extending his conquest of nature infinitely170 by his will and his science, man will feel such lofty joy from hour to hour in doing it that it will make up for all his old dreams of the joys of heaven. Everyone will know that he is mortal and will accept death proudly and serenely171 like a god. His pride will teach him that it’s useless for him to repine at life’s being a moment, and he will love his brother without need of reward. Love will be sufficient only for a moment of life, but the very consciousness of its momentariness172 will intensify173 its fire, which now is dissipated in dreams of eternal love beyond the grave’ . . . and so on and so on in the same style. Charming!”
Ivan sat with his eyes on the floor, and his hands pressed to his ears, but he began trembling all over. The voice continued.
“The question now is, my young thinker reflected, is it possible that such a period will ever come? If it does, everything is determined174 and humanity is settled for ever. But as, owing to man’s inveterate175 stupidity, this cannot come about for at least a thousand years, everyone who recognises the truth even now may legitimately176 order his life as he pleases, on the new principles. In that sense, ‘all things are lawful’ for him. What’s more, even if this period never comes to pass, since there is anyway no God and no immortality177, the new man may well become the man-god, even if he is the only one in the whole world, and promoted to his new position, he may lightheartedly overstep all the barriers of the old morality of the old slaveman, if necessary. There is no law for God. Where God stands, the place is holy. Where I stand will be at once the foremost place . . . ‘all things are lawful’ and that’s the end of it! That’s all very charming; but if you want to swindle why do you want a moral sanction for doing it? But that’s our modern Russian all over. He can’t bring himself to swindle without a moral sanction. He is so in love with truth-”
The visitor talked, obviously carried away by his own eloquence178, speaking louder and louder and looking ironically at his host. But he did not succeed in finishing; Ivan suddenly snatched a glass from the table and flung it at the orator179.
“Ah, mais c’est bete enfin,”25 cried the latter, jumping up from the sofa and shaking the drops of tea off himself. “He remembers Luther’s inkstand! He takes me for a dream and throws glasses at a dream! It’s like a woman! I suspected you were only pretending to stop up your ears.”
25 But after all, that’s stupid.
A loud, persistent10 knocking was suddenly heard at the window. Ivan jumped up from the sofa.
“Do you hear? You’d better open,” cried the visitor; “it’s your brother Alyosha with the most interesting and surprising news, I’ll be bound!”
“Be silent, deceiver, I knew it was Alyosha, I felt he was coming, and of course he has not come for nothing; of course he brings ‘news,’” Ivan exclaimed frantically180.
“Open, open to him. There’s a snowstorm and he is your brother. Monsieur sait-il le temps qu’il fait? C’est a ne pas mettre un chien dehors.”26
26 Does the gentleman know the weather he’s making? It’s not weather for a dog.
The knocking continued. Ivan wanted to rush to the window, but something seemed to fetter181 his arms and legs. He strained every effort to break his chains, but in vain. The knocking at the window grew louder and louder. At last the chains were broken and Ivan leapt up from the sofa. He looked round him wildly. Both candles had almost burnt out, the glass he had just thrown at his visitor stood before him on the table, and there was no one on the sofa opposite. The knocking on the window frame went on persistently, but it was by no means so loud as it had seemed in his dream; on the contrary, it was quite subdued182.
“It was not a dream! No, I swear it was not a dream, it all happened just now!” cried Ivan. He rushed to the window and opened the movable pane183.
“Alyosha, I told you not to come,” he cried fiercely to his brother. “In two words, what do you want? In two words, do you hear?”
“An hour ago Smerdyakov hanged himself,” Alyosha answered from the yard.
“Come round to the steps, I’ll open at once,” said Ivan, going to open the door to Alyosha.
收听单词发音 |
1
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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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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stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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impoverished
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| adj.穷困的，无力的，用尽了的v.使（某人）贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 )；使（某物）贫瘠或恶化 | |
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abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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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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widowers
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| n.鳏夫( widower的名词复数 ) | |
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25
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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materialist
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| n. 唯物主义者 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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prating
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| v.（古时用语）唠叨，啰唆( prate的现在分词 ) | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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calumniated
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| v.诽谤，中伤( calumniate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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circumscribed
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| adj.[医]局限的：受限制或限于有限空间的v.在…周围划线( circumscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；划定…范围；限制；限定 | |
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50
formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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51
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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52
incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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53
smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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54
vaccinated
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| [医]已接种的，种痘的，接种过疫菌的 | |
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subscribed
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| v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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57
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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59
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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60
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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61
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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70
peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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71
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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73
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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74
nostril
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| n.鼻孔 | |
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75
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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77
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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78
reactionary
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| n.反动者，反动主义者；adj.反动的，反动主义的，反对改革的 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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81
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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82
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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83
malignantly
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| 怀恶意地； 恶毒地； 有害地； 恶性地 | |
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84
slandered
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| 造谣中伤( slander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
upbraid
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| v.斥责，责骂，责备 | |
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86
negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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87
crucible
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| n.坩锅，严酷的考验 | |
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88
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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89
scapegoat
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| n.替罪的羔羊，替人顶罪者；v.使…成为替罪羊 | |
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90
ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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91
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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92
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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93
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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94
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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95
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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96
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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97
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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98
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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99
muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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100
molecule
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| n.分子，克分子 | |
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101
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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102
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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103
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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104
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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105
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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106
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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107
atheist
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| n.无神论者 | |
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108
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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109
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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110
disintegrated
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| v.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
overdid
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去式 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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112
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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113
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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114
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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115
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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116
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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117
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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118
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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119
hermits
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| （尤指早期基督教的）隐居修道士，隐士，遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
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120
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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121
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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122
locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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123
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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124
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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125
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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126
constellation
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| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
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127
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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128
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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130
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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131
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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132
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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133
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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134
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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135
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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136
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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137
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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138
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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139
absolved
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| 宣告…无罪，赦免…的罪行，宽恕…的罪行( absolve的过去式和过去分词 )； 不受责难，免除责任 [义务] ,开脱（罪责） | |
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140
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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141
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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142
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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143
derided
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| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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145
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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146
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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147
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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148
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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149
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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150
seraphim
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| n.六翼天使(seraph的复数)；六翼天使( seraph的名词复数 ) | |
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151
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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152
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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153
aesthetically
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| adv.美地，艺术地 | |
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154
imposture
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| n.冒名顶替，欺骗 | |
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155
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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156
bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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157
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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158
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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159
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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160
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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161
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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162
beget
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| v.引起；产生 | |
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163
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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164
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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165
cataclysm
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| n.洪水，剧变，大灾难 | |
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166
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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167
cannibalism
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| n.同类相食；吃人肉 | |
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168
analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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169
titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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170
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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171
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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172
momentariness
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| n.倾刻，瞬息 | |
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173
intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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174
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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175
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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176
legitimately
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| ad.合法地；正当地，合理地 | |
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177
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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178
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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179
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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180
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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181
fetter
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| n./vt.脚镣，束缚 | |
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182
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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183
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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