And although his position as instructor had been given to him in one of the usual ways, through the recommendation of the teachers’ bureau at Harvard University, and the letters of some of the professors there, he was tortured constantly by the thought of his inadequacy5 and ignorance, and by the horrible fear that his incompetence6 would be discovered and that one day he would be suddenly, peremptorily7, ruinously, and disgracefully discharged.
At night, when he went to bed in his little cell at the cheap little hotel nearby where he lived, the thought of the class he had to meet the next day fed at his heart and bowels8 with cold poisonous mouths of fear, and as the hour for a class drew nigh he would begin to shake and tremble as if he had an ague; the successive stages of his journey from his room in the Leopold to the class-room at the university a few hundred yards away — from cell to elevator, from the tiled sterility9 of the hotel lobby to the dusty beaten light and violence of the street outside, thence to the brawling10 and ugly corridors of the university, which drowned one, body and soul, with their swarming11, shrieking12, shouting tides of dark amber13 Jewish flesh, and thence into the comparative sanctuary14 of the class-room with its smaller horde15 of thirty or forty Jews and Jewesses all laughing, shouting, screaming, thick with their hot and swarthy body-smells, their strong female odours of rut and crotch and arm-pit and cheap perfume, and their hard male smells that were rancid, stale, and sour — the successive stages of this journey were filled with such dazed numbness16, horror, fear, and nauseous stupefaction as a man might feel in the successive stages of a journey to the gallows17, the guillotine, or the electric chair: the world swarmed18 blindly, nauseously, drunkenly about him. He looked at the faces in the hotel lobby, the brawling, furious, and chaotic19 street, and the swarming and rancid corridors, with dizzy swimming eyes and a constricted20 heart; a thousand unutterable and horrible premonitions and imaginings of ruin and shame swarmed through his mind — every day he felt the impending21 menace of some new and fatal catastrophe22, some indefinable and crushing disgrace with which each hour was ominously23, murderously pregnant.
What these fears and forebodings were he could not have told, but they occasionally found articulate expression in some scene of frightful24 insubordination and rebellion, in which he found himself faced with forty brawling, mocking, swarthily jeering26 faces who, like savage27 and untamed horses that have sensed the fear and incompetence of their driver, have now broken the last feeble thread of restraint and are running free and wild before him. The terror and menace of such a disgrace were heightened by the intrusion into the scene at the apex28 of such a moment of riot and rebellion of one of his employers, the Dean, the head of the department, or a creature with a wry29 lean face, a convulsive Adam’s apple, a habit of writhing30 his lean belly31 and loins erotically as he spoke32, and a mind of the most obscene Puritanism, who was employed to oversee33 the work and methods of the instructors34: he could visualize35 the moment of their fatal entrance into the class-room, and hear their words of stern, curt36 and immediate37 dismissal as they drove him out and gathered the reins38 strongly into their own parched39 and freckled40 hands.
A thousand such images of disgrace and terror swarmed through his mind, and at the same time there began to smoulder in his heart a dogged resentment42 and hatred43 of this nameless fear, this wordless and sourceless shame, impalpable, causeless, maddening, which pressed upon him from the sky, which hovered44 in the vast unrest and dissonance of the air he breathed, and which at length crept poisonously through all the rivers of life, corrupting46 the healthy music of the blood, the sweet exultant47 music of the heart, curdling48 men’s bowels with fear and withering49 their loins with sterile50 impotence. What was this grey lipless shape of fear that stalked their lives incessantly51 — that was everywhere, legible in the faces, the movements, and the driven frenzied52 glances of the people who swarmed on the streets? What was this thing that duped men out of joy, tricked them out of all the exultant and triumphant53 music of the world, drove them at length into the dusty earth, cheated, defrauded54, tricked out of life by a nameless phantom55, with all their glory wasted?
Already, in the city, he had begun to see how life was duped and menaced by this cheat: a thousand images of cruelty, violence, cowardice56 and dishonour57 swarmed about him in the streets. As the sparkling and winy exultancy58 of October, with its grand and solemn music of death and life, of departure and return, moved on into the harsh, raw, green implacability of winter, one could observe the death of joy and hope, the barometric59 rise of hate and fear and venom60 in the city’s life: it got into the faces of the people, it wasted their flesh and corrupted61 their blood, it glittered in the eyes of the instructors at the university, their flesh got green and yellow with its poisons, the air about them was webbed, cross-webbed, and counter-webbed with the dense62 fabric63 of their million spites and hatreds64. They wasted and grew sick with hate and poison because another man received promotion65, because another man had got his poem printed, because another man had eaten food and swallowed drink and lain with women, and lived and would not die; they sweltered with hate and fear against the professors who employed them — they grew pale and trembled, and spoke obsequiously66 when their employer passed, but when the man had gone, they whispered with trembling lips: “Has he spoken to you yet? . . . Has he said anything to you yet about next year? . . . Are you coming back next year? . . . Did he say anything to you about ME next year? . . .” They greeted him with sly humility67 and a servile glance, but they snickered obscenely at him when his back was turned. And they smiled and sneered68 at one another with eyes that glittered with their hate: they never struck a blow but they spoke lying words of barbed ambiguity70, they lied, cheated, and betrayed, and they sweltered in the poisons of their hate and fear, they breathed the weary hatred-laden air about them into their poisoned lungs.
Around him in the streets, again, as winter came, he heard a million words of hate and death: a million words of snarl71 and sneer69 and empty threat, of foul72 mistrust and lying slander73: already he had come to see the poisonous images of death and hatred at work in the lives of a million people — he saw with what corrupt45 and venomous joy they seized on every story of man’s dishonour, defeat, or sorrow, with what vicious jibe74 and jeer25 they greeted any evidence of mercy, honesty, or love.
By night, the hard and sterile lights of their glittering, barren and obscene streets fell lividly over the pale and swarthy faces of a million rats of the flesh, and by day, in the weary and hatred-laden air of the university, the harsh and merciless light shone on the venomous faces of the rats of the spirit.
In his heart a dogged and furious resentment was beginning to glow and moulder41 — a savage hate of hate, a fear of fear, a murderous intensity75 of desire to strangle the shapes of death and barrenness — a resistance, still passive, but growing in bitterness and pugnacity76 with every passing day, as he saw how uselessly and horribly men allowed themselves to be duped, cheated, and beaten by the living rat and by the fraud of fear, and that was being strengthened momently now by an implacable conviction, a dogged and incontrovertible memory that, incredibly sharpened by his fury and desire, awoke and netted out of the sea-depths of the past, the shining fish of a million living moments. The sound of forest waters in the night, the rustling77 of cool corn-blades in the dark, the goat-cries of a boy into the wind, the pounding of great wheels upon a rail, the sound of quiet casual voices at a country station in the night, and the thorn of delight, the tongueless cry of ecstasy78 that trembles on the lips of the country kid as he lies awake for the first time in the night in the top berth79 of a Pullman car while the great wheels pound beneath him toward the city, and he hears the good-looking woman in the berth below him stir languorously80 and move, in a gesture of heavied and sensual appeasement81, her milky82 thighs83. — These things had been upon the earth, past all the mockery of the old scornmaker’s pride, and would endure for ever. These facts, together with a thousand more — the incredible magic of the peach bloom in the month of April, the smell of rivers after rain, the wordless glory and first green of a young tree seen in a city street at daybreak in the month of May, the bird-song breaking into light once more, a cry, a leaf, the passing of a cloud — these facts, as bright as herrings in a shining water, as literal as nails to fix the hides of falsehood to the wall, as real as April and all magic whatsoever84, returned now under the furious light of his awakened85 and incontrovertible memory.
A murderous hatred against the haters, the mockers, dupers, cheaters, and all of the walking frauds of death rose up in him. He resolved to kill the phantoms86 of this fear and shame which pressed upon him namelessly; he swore that he should not starve in the midst of plenty, batter87 his knuckles88 bloody89 on the four walls of a little cell, break the great shoulder of his power and strength against a barren wall, prowl ceaselessly and damnably a million sterile streets, in which there was neither pause nor curve nor stay, nor door, to enter: he knew there was earth for his feet, food for his hunger, liquor for his thirst, the exultant reality of strong golden joy for all the savage passion of his conviction and desire, and he swore that he should come at length to doors and harbours, he knew he would not starve and sicken in the wilderness90, and that the venomous rats of the flesh and of the spirit should never gnaw91 his bones in triumph in the desert.
Yet, the sense of drowning daily in the man-swarm returned to him. Each day there began anew one of the most ancient and fatal struggles that was ever waged — the struggle of man against the multitude: each day, like a man who is going into battle, he would brace92 himself with savage resolution, and gird his spirit to the sticking point each time he went out in the streets, and each day, beaten, driven, trembling and inchoate93, drowned in horror and oblivion, he would at length retreat into the four walls of his cell again, conscious only of having passed through a maelstrom94 of sound, movement, violence, and living tissue — of living tissue from which all of the radiant and succulent essences of individual character and memory had been extracted — and which flowed constantly back and forth95 along the beaten pavement in a lava-like tide of tallowy flesh, dark dead eyes, and grey felt hats. The grey felt hats, in particular, those machine-made millions of neat cheap cones96 of crisp grey felt, all worn in the same way, and tilted97 at the same angle, and for the most part shading faces of the same tallowy texture98 — those million points of changeless grey that bobbed and moved incessantly through a thousand streets — drowned him with their tidal flow of weariness and sterility: they seemed to be the badge, the uniform, of a race of mechanical creatures, who were as essential and inhuman99 a part of the city’s substance as stone and steel and brick, who had been made of one essential substance and charged with one general and basic energy along with the buildings, tunnels, streets, and a million glittering projectiles100 of machinery101, and who flowed by incessantly, were poured into tunnels or driven through streets, were added to here, and thinned out there, were portioned, doled102, and celled out in a million destinations, a thousand swarming heaven-daring hives, the mindless and unwitting automatons103 of a gigantic and incomprehensible pattern.
But if he retreated daily, out of this savage and unequal struggle with the Herculean forces of the city, if he returned trembling, beaten and exhausted104 to the hermitage of his own small cell, it was with no sense of final defeat, no desire for ultimate escape. His pride and fury grew from every beating that they got, his faith grew stubborn on adversity, his spirit fed upon humiliation105, and spat106 into the face of failure, his soul plunged107 darkly to the sea-floor of blind horror, swarming desolation, and came up dripping with a snarl of hatred and defiance108: daily they beat him with their blind appalling109 mass, daily they drove him livid, shaking, blind with horror, back into his cell, so stunned110 and stricken by the savage, obscene, and mindless fury of the streets that he could no longer think, feel, or remember; and hour by hour his soul swam upwards111 out of the jungles of the sea! And every night, the merciful anodyne112 of dark restored him; sunk deep, at length, in midnight, beastwise aprowl in all the brooding silence of the night, his spirit swept out through the fields of sleep, he heard the heartbeats of six million men: within their million cells sleep crossed the faces of six million sleepers113 and in the night-time, in the dark, in all the living silence of the night, the sleeping faces of Snodgrass, Weisberg, and O’Hare were strange and dark as his. He saw the city with the great giant webbing of its thousand streets, he heard the long deep notes of warning and departure from the great ships in the harbour; and then he saw the city as a whole, six million sleepers celled in sleep and walled in night, and girdled by the bracelet114 of two flashing sea-borne tides that isled115 them round: he held them legible as minted gold within his hand, he saw them plain as apples in the adyts of his brain. Exultant certitude and joy welled up in him, and he knew that his hunger could eat the earth, his eye and brain gulp116 down the vision of ten thousand streets, ten million faces; he knew he should beat and eat them all one day, and that a man was more than a million, stronger than a wall, and greater than a door, and taller than a ninety-storey tower.
They swept around him on the rootless pavements in drowning tides of grey abomination, of numberless depth and horror, and like the memory of a bird-song in the wood, the memory of all his people who had lived and died alone for two hundred years within the wilderness, and whose buried bones were pointing eighty ways across the continent, returned to him in a rush of savage resolution, and he swore that he would beat death and nothingness and all the abominations of a sterile and nameless fear: he swore it with a sick heart, a trembling lip, and a nauseous stomach in which the rancid wash of a sour distressful117 coffee growled118 and rumbled119 queasily120 — for in those months, this sense of nameless fear and dread121, impending ruin, disgrace and menace, was so great each time he went to meet a class, its damnable victory over all the clean and healthful music of the flesh, the exultant joy of thirst and hunger, so complete and devastating122, that he was unable to touch a mouthful of food for hours in advance.
Thus, while a thousand such images of disgrace and terror swarmed through his mind, he stood before each class on a small raised platform three or four inches in height, trembling on limbs from which every vital essence of blood and bone and marrow123 had been drained, staring at the faces that seethed124 and swarmed below him, with dead glazed125 eyes, nauseous, and sick, and palsied, left only with something clear and small and shining at the bottom of his mind, one pure small note of conviction and belief at the bottom of this horrible sea-depth of phantasmagoric chaos126, of desolation and fury. Then, in a voice that was remote, unreal, and hollow in his throat and ears, he would attempt to silence them, he would begin to speak to them, and one by one, each in his accustomed place, he would see the dark, ugly, grinning faces in their seats below him and become aware of the pale sweat-shop tailors sitting cross-legged on their tables in the buildings just across the street — buildings which the university was acquiring as class-rooms, year by year, and one by one, as the numberless thousands of these dark and brawling hordes127, there by God knows what blind fantasticality of purpose, increased.
And then, faint and far, sunken below the furious glare and clamour of the city’s life, fantastic and unreal at first in these machine shops of the brain, the old words, the undying words, the deathless bird-song in the city street returned, and he spoke to them again out of the lips of Herrick, Donne, and Shakespeare, of all the things that never change, of all the things that would abide128 for ever.
“When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past —” Clang — a-lang — a-lang — a-lang a-lang! Hard and harsh with the violence of an unexpected blow, the bell that marked the ending of the period rang pat upon the last word of the sentence and as it died, all of his senses rudely shocked out of the potent129 enchantments130 of the music, he gave a violent start, as if he had been prodded131 from behind, stopped reading, and looked up quickly from his book with an angry and bewildered face. The class, which had tittered, now burst into a roar of laughter: even Mr. Abraham Jones from his accustomed seat on the third row to the right smiled, wearily, cruelly, and contemptuously behind the winking133 glitter of his glasses. Eugene lost his temper completely, lifted the heavy book above his head with both hands and banged it down upon the table. “Quiet!” he shouted, “I tell you to be quiet!” The command was unnecessary, for they had become instantly and craftily134 silent in response to his violent gesture, they stared at him meekly135 and dumbly, with a kind of stricken dullness, and already ashamed of his outburst he picked up the heavy book again, fumbled136 with trembling fingers for the poem, and said: “You can go after I’ve finished reading the poem: it won’t take but a moment more!”
The class stirred restlessly, there was a little mutter of protest, Abe smiled bitterly, shaking his head with a slight sigh of weary indifference137. He glanced up quickly and caught them in a series of sly communications: at the back of the room Sadie Feinberg, her fat neck half-turned to the right, was whispering out of the corner of her mouth to Miss Bessie Weisman; to the left Mr. Sidney Osherofsky was whispering rapidly and cynically138 behind his hand to Mr. Nathan Shulemovitch; and on the right-hand side of the room Mr. Sol Grebenschik was carrying on a guttural but animated139 conversation with Mr. Sam Vucker. Almost everyone in the class of thirty people, in fact, was either engaged in conversation or preparing to engage in conversation. Only Abe Jones and Mr. Boris Gorewitz remained faithful. Mr. Boris Gorewitz always remained faithful. He sat on the front row close, very close, ah, fragrantly140, odorously close, too, too close to his teacher! He took notes. When beauty was revealed he smiled murkily141, showing large white wet-looking teeth. When passion was indicated he looked stern and thoughtful: he was deeply stirred and polished his glasses. When some stupid question had been asked, or some opinion expressed with which he did not agree, he smiled contemptuously, shook his head violently from side to side, saying, “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!” quite loudly and thrust his short dirty fingers vigorously and impatiently through the dry crinkly mass of hair that rushed back sproutily from his bulbous forehead, while Abe turned and glanced at him angrily, bitterly, mockingly, turning his cruel grinning Yiddish face to Eugene with a soft “Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!” of contemptuous laughter.
The class had now become so absorbed in its private conversations that it was not for a moment aware of its instructor nor of the fierce accusation142 of his glance. His face would grow dark and swollen143 with a rush of blood and passion, he would begin to tremble with rage, veins144 stood out on his forehead. Then in a very extraordinary way, through a sort of comical intuition, silence would come upon the class again: Mr. Osherofsky, who had turned in his seat and was talking behind his hand to Mr. Shulemovitch, gradually became aware that something was amiss from the expression of Mr. Shulemovitch’s face, which altered so subtly that almost without changing a muscle, it indicated that it was no longer aware of Mr. Osherofsky, that it was not listening to him, that it did not know him, that it wished he would go away, and that it was absorbed in its own meditation145. Abruptly146 Mr. Osherofsky ceased talking, his small bright eyes shifted around rapidly at Eugene, and immediately his gaze plunged intently into his book, while his face took on an expression of sly humility.
Meanwhile, Miss Feinberg, who was now so completely absorbed in her conversation with Miss Weisman that she had twisted around almost completely to the back, received a sharp warning prod132 and a meaningful frown from her companion, accompanied by a significant lifting of the eyebrows147. Miss Feinberg at once flopped148 heavily around in her seat, her heavy face fixed149 upon Eugene in an expression of vacant and insolent150 meekness151. A loose smile faintly touched the corners of her lax heavy mouth: her jaws152 ruminated153 slightly at a wad of gum. Mr. Gorewitz during this commotion154 had turned in his seat and swept the faces of his comrades with a glance full of scornful reproof155. Now he hissed156 loudly at them: “Sh-h! Sh-h! Sh-h!” Then, as a heavy silence fell upon the room, he turned in his seat and looked up at Eugene with an expression of understanding and commiseration157. He shook his head pityingly, with a scornful smile, as he thought of these souls living in darkness and unwilling158 to admit the light! Then his own face darkened! Let them wallow in ignorance if they liked, but let them remember that other people were seeking for truth and beauty! Let them show some consideration for others! Then his gaze softened159, a glow of tenderness suffused160 his oily features, as he gazed upon Eugene’s infuriated face: he looked at him now with love, with reverence161, with adoration162, and with the sympathy of a kindred spirit! His eloquent163 glance said:—“The poet, the prophet, the seer such as you, has at every time in history been mocked and misunderstood by the philistine164 mob. Why should you suffer so, dear teacher? You are above them. They can never know you or appreciate you as I do. Despise them, beloved master. Cast not your pearls before swine.”
This devoted165 and tender message had been lost, however, on his instructor: Eugene’s face was set in a fixed glare of rage as he regarded his class. For a moment he was absolutely speechless.
“If anyone thinks,” he began at length in a voice that was small and choked with fury, “that I am here —” apparently166 someone did think so, for at this moment, slowly, craftily, the knob of the door began to move, slowly the door swung open as if propelled by a ghostly hand. He paused again, and this time murder sweltered in his heart and was legible upon his face. Softly with the tread of a cat he stepped toward the door, and paused as if getting ready to spring, while it opened: the class waited tensely with held breath. Then, as slowly as the door had opened, a face was thrust in through the opening: it was the face of one of the hall guards, the face of an old man, a face of unutterable melancholy167 and of the most dismal168 sourness: the old dull face with its dry sagging169 flesh and its small watery170 eyes turned slowly on its scrawny neck, surveying Eugene, the class, and the four walls of the room in a glance full of dislike and suspicion. Then slowly and craftily, as it had come, as if it had been thrust forward on a stick by some unseen hand, the face withdrew, and the door swung to silently once again.
For a moment Eugene stared at the closing door with an expression of stupefaction. Then suddenly a surge of humour, powerful, choking, explosive, and tongueless in its unutterable and wordless implication, welled up in his throat. He cast the book from him with a roar of laughter in which the class joined.
“Get out of here,” he shouted. “I’m through! That’s enough. Go away! Leave me alone!”
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1
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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munificence
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| n.宽宏大量，慷慨给与 | |
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inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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incompetence
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| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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8
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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sterility
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| n.不生育，不结果，贫瘠，消毒，无菌 | |
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brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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12
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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constricted
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| adj.抑制的，约束的 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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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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apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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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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32
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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oversee
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| vt.监督，管理 | |
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instructors
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| 指导者，教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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39
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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40
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
moulder
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| v.腐朽，崩碎 | |
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42
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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43
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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44
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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45
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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46
corrupting
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的现在分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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47
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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48
curdling
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| n.凝化v.（使）凝结( curdle的现在分词 ) | |
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49
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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50
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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51
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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52
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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53
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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54
defrauded
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| v.诈取，骗取( defraud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
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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56
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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57
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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58
exultancy
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| n.大喜，狂喜 | |
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59
barometric
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| 大气压力 | |
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60
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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61
corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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62
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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63
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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64
hatreds
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| n.仇恨，憎恶( hatred的名词复数 )；厌恶的事 | |
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65
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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66
obsequiously
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67
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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68
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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70
ambiguity
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| n.模棱两可；意义不明确 | |
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71
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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72
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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73
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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74
jibe
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| v.嘲笑，与...一致，使转向；n.嘲笑，嘲弄 | |
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75
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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76
pugnacity
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| n.好斗，好战 | |
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77
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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78
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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79
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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80
languorously
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| adv.疲倦地，郁闷地 | |
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81
appeasement
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| n.平息，满足 | |
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82
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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83
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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84
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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85
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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86
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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87
batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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88
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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89
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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90
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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91
gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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92
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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93
inchoate
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| adj.才开始的，初期的 | |
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94
maelstrom
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| n.大乱动；大漩涡 | |
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95
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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96
cones
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| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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97
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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98
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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99
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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100
projectiles
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| n.抛射体( projectile的名词复数 )；（炮弹、子弹等）射弹，（火箭等）自动推进的武器 | |
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101
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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102
doled
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| 救济物( dole的过去式和过去分词 )； 失业救济金 | |
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103
automatons
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| n.自动机，机器人( automaton的名词复数 ) | |
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104
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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105
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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106
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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107
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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108
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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109
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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110
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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111
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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112
anodyne
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| n.解除痛苦的东西，止痛剂 | |
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113
sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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114
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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115
isled
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| 使成为岛屿（isle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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116
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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117
distressful
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| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
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118
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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119
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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120
queasily
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| adv.令人恶心地 | |
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121
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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122
devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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123
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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124
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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125
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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126
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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127
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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128
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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129
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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130
enchantments
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| n.魅力( enchantment的名词复数 )；迷人之处；施魔法；着魔 | |
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131
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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132
prod
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| vt.戳，刺；刺激，激励 | |
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133
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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134
craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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135
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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136
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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137
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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138
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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139
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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140
fragrantly
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| adv.芬芳地；愉快地 | |
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141
murkily
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| adv.阴暗地；混浊地；可疑地；黝暗地 | |
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142
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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143
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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144
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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145
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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146
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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147
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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148
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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149
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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150
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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151
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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152
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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153
ruminated
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| v.沉思( ruminate的过去式和过去分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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154
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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155
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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156
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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157
commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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158
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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159
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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160
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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161
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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162
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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163
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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164
philistine
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| n.庸俗的人；adj.市侩的，庸俗的 | |
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165
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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166
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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167
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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168
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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169
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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170
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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