AS he ascended1 in the cage heaped up with four others, étienne resolved to continue his famished2 course along the roads. One might as well die at once as go down to the bottom of that hell, where it was not even possible to earn one’s bread. Catherine, in the tram above him, was no longer at his side with her pleasant enervating3 warmth; and he preferred to avoid foolish thoughts and to go away, for with his wider education he felt nothing of the resignation of this flock; he would end by strangling one of the masters.
Suddenly he was blinded. The ascent4 had been so rapid that he was stunned5 by the daylight, and his eyelids6 quivered in the brightness to which he had already grown unaccustomed. It was none the less a relief to him to feel the cage settle on to the bars. A lander opened the door, and a flood of workmen leapt out of the trams.
“I say, Mouquet,” whispered Zacharie in the lander’s ear, “are we off to the Volcan to-night?”
The Volcan was a café-concert at Montsou. Mouquet winked7 his left eye with a silent laugh which made his jaws8 gape9. Short and stout10 like his father, he had the impudent11 face of a fellow who devours13 everything without care for the morrow. Just then Mouquette came out in her turn, and he gave her a formidable smack14 on the flank by way of fraternal tenderness.
étienne hardly recognized the lofty nave15 of the receiving-hall, which had before looked imposing16 in the ambiguous light of the lanterns. It was simply bare and dirty; a dull light entered through the dusty windows. The engine alone shone at the end with its copper17; the well-greased steel cables moved like ribbons soaked in ink, and the pulleys above, the enormous scaffold which supported them, the cages, the trams, all this prodigality18 of metal made the hall look sombre with their hard grey tones of old iron. Without ceasing, the rumbling19 of the wheels shook the metal floor; while from the coal thus put in motion there arose a fine charcoal20 powder which powdered black the soil, the walls, even the joists of the steeple.
But Chaval, after glancing at the table of counters in the receiver’s little glass office, came back furious. He had discovered that two of their trains had been rejected, one because it did not contain the regulation amount, the other because the coal was not clean.
“This finishes the day,” he cried. “Twenty sous less again! This is because we take on lazy rascals21 who use their arms as a pig does his tail!”
And his sidelong look at étienne completed his thought.
The latter was tempted22 to reply by a blow. Then he asked himself what would be the use since he was going away. This decided23 him absolutely.
“It’s not possible to do it right the first day,” said Maheu, to restore peace; “he’ll do better to-morrow.”
They were all none the less soured, and disturbed by the need to quarrel. As they passed to the lamp cabin to give up their lamps, Levaque began to abuse the lamp-man, whom he accused of not properly cleaning his lamp. They only slackened down a little in the shed where the fire was still burning. It had even been too heavily piled up, for the stove was red and the vast room, without a window, seemed to be in flames, to such a degree did the reflection make bloody24 the walls. And there were grunts25 of joy, all the backs were roasted at a distance till they smoked like soup. When their flanks were burning they cooked their bellies26. Mouquette had tranquilly27 let down her breeches to dry her chemise. Some lads were making fun of her; they burst out laughing because she suddenly showed them her posterior, a gesture which in her was the extreme expression of contempt.
“I’m off,” said Chaval, who had shut up his tools in his box.
No one moved. Only Mouquette hastened, and went out behind him on the pretext28 that they were both going back to Montsou. But the others went on joking; they knew that he would have no more to do with her.
Catherine, however, who seemed preoccupied29, was speaking in a low voice to her father. The latter was surprised; then he agreed with a nod; and calling étienne to give him back his bundle:
“Listen,” he said: “you haven’t a sou; you will have time to starve before the fortnight’s out. Shall I try and get you credit somewhere?”
The young man stood for a moment confused. He had been just about to claim his thirty sous and go. But shame restrained him before the young girl. She looked at him fixedly30; perhaps she would think he was shirking the work.
“You know I can promise you nothing,” Maheu went on. “They can but refuse us.”
Then étienne consented. They would refuse. Besides, it would bind31 him to nothing, he could still go away after having eaten something. Then he was dissatisfied at not having refused, seeing Catherine’s joy, a pretty laugh, a look of friendship, happy at having been useful to him. What was the good of it all?
When they had put on their sabots and shut their boxes, the Maheus left the shed, following their comrades, who were leaving one by one after they had warmed themselves. étienne went behind. Levaque and his urchin32 joined the band. But as they crossed the screening place a scene of violence stopped them.
It was in a vast shed, with beams blackened by the powder, and large shutters33, through which blew a constant current of air. The coal trains arrived straight from the receiving-room, and were then overturned by the tipping-cradles on to hoppers, long iron slides; and to right and to left of these the screeners, mounted on steps and armed with shovels34 and rakes, separated the stone and swept together the clean coal, which afterwards fell through funnels35 into the railway wagons36 beneath the shed.
Philoméne Levaque was there, thin and pale, with the sheep-like face of a girl who spat37 blood. With head protected by a fragment of blue wool, and hands and arms black to the elbows, she was screening beneath an old witch, the mother of Pierronne, the Brulé, as she was called, with terrible owl’s eyes, and a mouth drawn38 in like a miser’s purse. They were abusing each other, the young one accusing the elder of raking her stones so that she could not get a basketful in ten minutes. They were paid by the basket, and these quarrels were constantly arising. Hair was flying, and hands were making black marks on red faces.
“Give it her bloody well!” cried Zacharie, from above, to his mistress.
All the screeners laughed. But the Brulé turned snappishly on the young man.
“Now, then, dirty beast! You’d better to own the two kids you have filled her with. Fancy that, a slip of eighteen, who can’t stand straight!”
Maheu had to prevent his son from descending39 to see, as he said, the colour of this carcass’s skin.
A foreman came up and the rakes again began to move the coal. One could only see, all along the hoppers, the round backs of women squabbling incessantly40 over the stones.
Outside, the wind had suddenly quieted; a moist cold was falling from a grey sky. The colliers thrust out their shoulders, folded their arms, and set forth42 irregularly, with a rolling gait which made their large bones stand out beneath their thin garments. In the daylight they looked like a band of Negroes thrown into the mud. Some of them had not finished their briquets; and the remains43 of the bread carried between the shirt and the jacket made them humpbacked.
“Hallo! there’s Bouteloup.” said Zacharie, grinning.
Levaque without stopping exchanged two sentences with his lodger44, a big dark fellow of thirty-five with a placid45, honest air:
“Is the soup ready, Louis?”
“I believe it is.”
“Then the wife is good-humoured to-day.”
“Yes, I believe she is.”
Other miners bound for the earth-cutting came up, new bands which one by one were engulfed46 in the pit. It was the three o’clock descent, more men for the pit to devour12, the gangs who would replace the sets of the pike. men at the bottom of the passages. The mine never rested; day and night human insects were digging out the rock six hundred metres below the beetroot fields.
However, the youngsters went ahead. Jeanlin confided47 to Bébert a complicated plan for getting four sous’ worth of tobacco on credit, while Lydie followed respectfully at a distance. Catherine came with Zacharie and étienne. None of them spoke48. And it was only in front of the Avantage Inn that Maheu and Levaque rejoined them.
“Here we are,” said the former to étienne; “will you come in?”
They separated. Catherine had stood a moment motionless, gazing once more at the young man with her large eyes full of greenish limpidity49 like spring water, the crystal deepened the more by her black face. She smiled and disappeared with the others on the road that led up to the settlement.
The inn was situated50 between the village and the mine, at the crossing of two roads. It was a two-storied brick house, whitewashed51 from top to bottom, enlivened around the windows by a broad pale-blue border. On a square sign-board nailed above the door, one read in yellow letters: A l’Avantage, licensed52 to Rasseneur. Behind stretched a skittle-ground enclosed by a hedge. The Company, who had done everything to buy up the property placed within its vast territory, was in despair over this inn in the open fields, at the very entrance of the Voreux.
“Go in,” said Maheu to étienne.
The little parlour was quite bare with its white walls, its three tables and its dozen chairs, its deal counter about the size of a kitchen dresser. There were a dozen glasses at most, three bottles of liqueur, a decanter, a small zinc53 tank with a pewter tap to hold the beer; and nothing else — not a figure, not a little table, not a game. In the metal fireplace, which was bright and polished, a coal fire was burning quietly. On the flags a thin layer of white sand drank up the constant moisture of this water-soaked land.
“A glass,” ordered Maheu of a big fair girl, a neighbour’s daughter who sometimes took charge of the place. “Is Rasseneur in?”
The girl turned the tap, replying that the master would soon return. In a long, slow gulp54, the miner emptied half his glass to sweep away the dust which filled his throat. He offered nothing to his companion. One other customer, a damp and besmeared miner, was seated before the table, drinking his beer in silence, with an air of deep meditation55. A third entered, was served in response to a gesture, paid and went away without uttering a word.
But a stout man of thirty-eight, with a round shaven face and a good-natured smile, now appeared. It was Rasseneur, a former pikeman whom the Company had dismissed three years ago, after a strike. A very good workman, he could speak well, put himself at the head of every opposition56, and had at last become the chief of the discontented. His wife already held a licence, like many miners’ wives; and when he was thrown on to the street he became an innkeeper himself; having found the money, he placed his inn in front of the Voreux as a provocation57 to the Company. Now his house had prospered58; it had become a centre, and he was enriched by the animosity he had gradually fostered in the hearts of his old comrades.
“This is a lad I hired this morning,” said Maheu at once. “Have you got one of your two rooms free, and will you give him credit for a fortnight?”
Rasseneur’s broad face suddenly expressed great suspicion. He examined étienne with a glance, and replied, without giving himself the trouble to express any regret:
“My two rooms are taken. Can’t do it.”
The young man expected this refusal; but it hurt him nevertheless, and he was surprised at the sudden grief he experienced in going. No matter; he would go when he had received his thirty sous. The miner who was drinking at a table had left. Others, one by one, continued to come in to clear their throats, then went on their road with the same slouching gait. It was a simple swilling59 without joy or passion, the silent satisfaction of a need.
“Then, there’s no news?” Rasseneur asked in a peculiar60 tone of Maheu, who was finishing his beer in small gulps61.
The latter turned his head, and saw that only étienne was near.
“There’s been more squabbling. Yes, about the timbering.” He told the story. The innkeeper’s face reddened, swelling62 with emotion, which flamed in his skin and eyes. At last he broke out:
“Well, well! if they decide to lower the price they are done for.”
étienne constrained63 him. However he went on, throwing sidelong glances in his direction. And there were reticences, and implications; he was talking of the manager, M. Hennebeau, of his wife, of his nephew, the little Négrel, without naming them, repeating that this could not go on, that things were bound to smash up one of these fine days. The misery64 was too great; and he spoke of the workshops that were closing, the workers who were going away. During the last month he had given more than six pounds of bread a day. He had heard the day before, that M. Deneulin, the owner of a neighbouring pit, could scarcely keep going. He had also received a letter from Lille full of disturbing details.
“You know,” he whispered, “it comes from that person you saw here one evening.”
But he was interrupted. His wife entered in her turn, a tall woman, lean and keen, with a long nose and violet cheeks. She was a much more radical65 politician than her husband.
“Pluchart’s letter,” she said. “Ah! if that fellow was master things would soon go better.”
étienne had been listening for a moment; he understood and became excited over these ideas of misery and revenge. This name, suddenly uttered, caused him to start. He said aloud, as if in spite of himself:
“I know him — Pluchart.”
They looked at him. He had to add:
“Yes, I am an engine-man: he was my foreman at Lille. A capable man. I have often talked with him.”
Rasseneur examined him afresh; and there was a rapid change on his face, a sudden sympathy. At last he said to his wife:
“It’s Maheu who brings me this gentleman, one of his putters, to see if there is a room for him upstairs, and if we can give him credit for a fortnight.”
Then the matter was settled in four words. There was a room; the lodger had left that morning. And the innkeeper, who was very excited, talked more freely, repeating that he only asked possibilities from the masters, without demanding, like so many others, things that were too hard to get. His wife shrugged66 her shoulders and demanded justice, absolutely.
“Good evening,” interrupted Maheu. “All that won’t prevent men from going down, and as long as they go there will be people working themselves to death. Look how fresh you are, these three years that you’ve been out of it.”
“Yes, I’m very much better,” declared Rasseneur, complacently67.
étienne went as far as the door, thanking the miner, who was leaving; but the latter nodded his head without adding a word, and the young man watched him painfully climb up the road to the settlement. Madame Rasseneur, occupied with serving customers, asked him to wait a minute, when she would show him his room, where he could clean himself. Should he remain? He again felt hesitation68, a discomfort69 which made him regret the freedom of the open road, the hunger beneath the sun, endured with the joy of being one’s own master. It seemed to him that he had lived years from his arrival on the pit-bank, in the midst of squalls, to those hours passed under the earth on his belly70 in the black passages. And he shrank from beginning again; it was unjust and too hard. His man’s pride revolted at the idea of becoming a crushed and blinded beast.
While étienne was thus debating with himself, his eyes, wandering over the immense plain, gradually began to see it clearly. He was surprised; he had not imagined the horizon was like this, when old Bonnemort had pointed71 it out to him in the darkness. Before him he plainly saw the Voreux in a fold of the earth, with its wood and brick buildings, the tarred screening shed, the slate-covered steeple, the engine-room and the tall, pale red chimney, all massed together with that evil air. But around these buildings the space extended, and he had not imagined it so large, changed into an inky sea by the ascending72 waves of coal soot73, bristling74 with high trestles which carried the rails of the foot-bridges, encumbered75 in one corner with the timber supply, which looked like the harvest of a mown forest. Towards the right the pit-bank hid the view, colossal76 as a barricade77 of giants, already covered with grass in its older part, consumed at the other end by an interior fire which had been burning for a year with a thick smoke, leaving at the surface in the midst of the pale grey of the slates78 and sandstones long trails of bleeding rust41. Then the fields unrolled, the endless fields of wheat and beetroot, naked at this season of the year, marshes79 with scanty80 vegetation, cut by a few stunted81 willows82, distant meadows separated by slender rows of poplars. Very far away little pale patches indicated towns, Marchiennes to the north, Montsou to the south; while the forest of Vandame to the east boardered the horizon with the violet line of its leafless trees. And beneath the livid sky, in the faint daylight of this winter afternoon, it seemed as if all the blackness of the Voreux, and all its flying coal dust, had fallen upon the plain, powdering the trees, sanding the roads, sowing the earth.
étienne looked, and what especially surprised him was a canal, the canalized stream of the Scarpe, which he had not seen in the night. From the Voreux to Marchiennes this canal ran straight, like a dull silver ribbon two leagues long, an avenue lined by large trees, raised above the low earth, threading into space with the perspective of its green banks, its pale water into which glided83 the vermilion of the boats. Near one pit there was a wharf84 with moored85 vessels86 which were laden87 directly from the trains at the foot-bridges. Afterwards the canal made a curve, sloping by the marshes; and the whole soul of that smooth plain appeared to lie in this geometrical stream, which traversed it like a great road, carting coal and iron.
étienne’s glance went up from the canal to the settlement built on the height, of which he could only distinguish the red tiles. Then his eyes rested again at the bottom of the clay slope, towards the Voreux, on two enormous masses of bricks made and burnt on the spot. A branch of the Company’s railroad passed behind a paling, for the use of the pit. They must be sending down the last miners to the earth-cutting. Only one shrill88 note came from a truck pushed by men. One felt no longer the unknown darkness, the inexplicable89 thunder, the flaming of mysterious stars. Afar, the blast furnaces and the coke kilns90 had paled with the dawn. There only remained, unceasingly, the escapement of the pump, always breathing with the same thick, long breath, the ogre’s breath of which he could now see the grey steam, and which nothing could satiate.
Then étienne suddenly made up his mind. Perhaps he seemed to see again Catherine’s clear eyes, up there, at the entrance to the settlement. Perhaps, rather, it was the wind of revolt which came from the Voreux. He did not know, but he wished to go down again to the mine, to suffer and to fight. And he thought fiercely of those people Bonnemort had talked of, the crouching91 and sated god, to whom ten thousand starving men gave their flesh without knowing it.
1 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2 famished | |
adj.饥饿的 | |
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3 enervating | |
v.使衰弱,使失去活力( enervate的现在分词 ) | |
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4 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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5 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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6 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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7 winked | |
v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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8 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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9 gape | |
v.张口,打呵欠,目瞪口呆地凝视 | |
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11 impudent | |
adj.鲁莽的,卑鄙的,厚颜无耻的 | |
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12 devour | |
v.吞没;贪婪地注视或谛听,贪读;使着迷 | |
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13 devours | |
吞没( devour的第三人称单数 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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14 smack | |
vt.拍,打,掴;咂嘴;vi.含有…意味;n.拍 | |
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15 nave | |
n.教堂的中部;本堂 | |
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16 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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17 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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18 prodigality | |
n.浪费,挥霍 | |
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19 rumbling | |
n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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20 charcoal | |
n.炭,木炭,生物炭 | |
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21 rascals | |
流氓( rascal的名词复数 ); 无赖; (开玩笑说法)淘气的人(尤指小孩); 恶作剧的人 | |
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22 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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23 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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24 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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25 grunts | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说; 石鲈 | |
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26 bellies | |
n.肚子( belly的名词复数 );腹部;(物体的)圆形或凸起部份;腹部…形的 | |
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27 tranquilly | |
adv. 宁静地 | |
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28 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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29 preoccupied | |
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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30 fixedly | |
adv.固定地;不屈地,坚定不移地 | |
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31 bind | |
vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
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32 urchin | |
n.顽童;海胆 | |
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33 shutters | |
百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 ); (照相机的)快门 | |
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34 shovels | |
n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 );锹;推土机、挖土机等的)铲;铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 );锹;推土机、挖土机等的)铲;铲形部份 | |
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35 funnels | |
漏斗( funnel的名词复数 ); (轮船,火车等的)烟囱 | |
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36 wagons | |
n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 );铁路货车;小手推车 | |
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37 spat | |
n.口角,掌击;v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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38 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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39 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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40 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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41 rust | |
n.锈;v.生锈;(脑子)衰退 | |
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42 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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43 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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44 lodger | |
n.寄宿人,房客 | |
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45 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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46 engulfed | |
v.吞没,包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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48 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 | |
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49 limpidity | |
n.清澈,透明 | |
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50 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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51 whitewashed | |
粉饰,美化,掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52 licensed | |
adj.得到许可的v.许可,颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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53 zinc | |
n.锌;vt.在...上镀锌 | |
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54 gulp | |
vt.吞咽,大口地吸(气);vi.哽住;n.吞咽 | |
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55 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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56 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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57 provocation | |
n.激怒,刺激,挑拨,挑衅的事物,激怒的原因 | |
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58 prospered | |
成功,兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59 swilling | |
v.冲洗( swill的现在分词 );猛喝;大口喝;(使)液体流动 | |
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60 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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61 gulps | |
n.一大口(尤指液体)( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃,吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 );大口地吸(气);哽住 | |
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62 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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63 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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64 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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65 radical | |
n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的 | |
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66 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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67 complacently | |
adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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68 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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69 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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70 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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71 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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72 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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73 soot | |
n.煤烟,烟尘;vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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74 bristling | |
a.竖立的 | |
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75 encumbered | |
v.妨碍,阻碍,拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76 colossal | |
adj.异常的,庞大的 | |
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77 barricade | |
n.路障,栅栏,障碍;vt.设路障挡住 | |
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78 slates | |
(旧时学生用以写字的)石板( slate的名词复数 ); 板岩; 石板瓦; 石板色 | |
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79 marshes | |
n.沼泽,湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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80 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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81 stunted | |
adj.矮小的;发育迟缓的 | |
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82 willows | |
n.柳树( willow的名词复数 );柳木 | |
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83 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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84 wharf | |
n.码头,停泊处 | |
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85 moored | |
adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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86 vessels | |
n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
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87 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
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88 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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89 inexplicable | |
adj.无法解释的,难理解的 | |
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90 kilns | |
n.窑( kiln的名词复数 );烧窑工人 | |
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91 crouching | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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