It was the wild, sweet, casual, savage7, and incredibly lovely earth of America, and of the wilderness8, and it haunted them like legends, and pierced them like a sword, and filled them with a wild and swelling10 prescience of joy that was like sorrow and delight.
They toiled11 upward through the tangled forest-jungle of a wooded slope, and down again into the cool green-gladed secrecies12 of a hollow, and up through the wild still music of the woods again and out into the great rude swell9 of unmown fields, alive with all their brooding potency13, their powerful and silent energy of the hot and fragrant earth of three o’clock, the drowsy and tremulous ululation of afternoon.
Their feet trod pathways in the hot and fragrant grasses; where they trod, a million little singing things leaped up to life, and hot dry stalks brushed crudely at their knees: the earth beneath their feet gave back a firm and unsmooth evenness, a lumpy resiliency.
Once in a field before them they saw a tree dense-leaved and burnished14 by hot light: the sun shone on its leaves with a naked and ungreen opacity15, and Joel, looking towards it, whispered thoughtfully:
“ . . . Hm . . . It’s nice, that — I mean the way the light falls on it — It would be hard to paint: I’d like to come out here and try it.”
And the other assented16, not, however, without a certain nameless desolation in his heart that broad and naked lights, the white and glacial opacity of brutal17 day aroused in him — and wanting more the wooded grove18, the green-gold magic of a wooded grass, the woodland dark and thrum and tingled19 mystery, and the sheer sheeting silence of the hidden water.
It was a swelling, casual, nobly lavish20 earth, for ever haunted by a drowsy spell of time, and the unfathomed mystery of an elfin enchantment21, the huge dream-sorcery of the mysterious and immortal22 river.
It was what he had always known it to be in his visions as a child, and he came to it with a sense of wonder and of glorious discovery, but without surprise, as one who for the first time comes into his father’s country, finding it the same as he had always known it would be, and knowing always that it would be there.
And finally the whole design of that earth, with the casual and powerful surveys of its great fields, its dense still woods of moveless silence ringing with the music of the birds, its far-off hills receding23 into time as haunting as a dream, and the central sorcery of its shining river — that enchanted24 thread which ran through all, from which all swept away, and towards which all inclined — was unutterably the language of all he had ever thought or felt or known of America: the great plantation25 of the earth abundant to the sustenance26 of mighty27 men, and enriching all its glamorous28 women with the full provender29 of its huge compacted sweetness, an America that was so casual and rich and limitless and free, and so haunted by dark time and magic, so aching in its joy with all the bitter briefness of our days, so young, so old, so everlasting30, and so triumphantly31 the place of man’s good earth, his ripe fulfilment and of the most fortunate, good, and happy life that any man alive had ever known.
It changed, it passed, it swept around him in all its limitless surge and sweep and fold and passionate32 variety, and it was more strange in all its haunting loveliness than magic or a dream, and yet more near than morning and more actual than noon.
It was a hot day: the two young men walked along with their coats flung back across their shoulders: towards five o’clock as they were coming home again, and coming down into the wooded hollow where Mr. Joel lived, Joel turned, and with a slight flush of embarrassment33 on his gaunt face, said:
“Look — do you mind wearing your coat when we go by Grandfather’s house? — you can take it off again when we get out of sight.”
He said nothing, but silently did as his friend requested, and thus correctly garmented they passed the old man’s great white house and crossed the little wooden bridge and stared up again out of the hollow, taking a foot-path through the woods that would lead them out into the road near Miss Telfair’s house: she had invited them to tea.
And curiously34, inexplicably35, of all that they had said and talked about together on that walk, these two things were later all he could remember:— his friend’s eyes narrowed with professional appraisal36 as he looked at the hot opacity of the sun-burnished tree and said, “— hm . . . It’s nice that — the light is interesting — I’d like to do it;” and the embarrassed but almost stubbornly definite way in which Joel had asked him to put on his coat as he went past “Grandfather’s place.” He did not know why, but that simple request aroused in him a feeling of quick and hot resentment37, a desire to say:
“Good God! What kind of idol-worship is this, anyway? Surely that old man has been made of the same earth as all the rest of us — surely he’s not so grand and rare and fine that he can’t stand the sight of two young men in shirt-sleeves going by his house! . . . Surely there is something false, inhuman38, barren in this kind of reverence39 — no real respect, no decent human admiration40, but something cruel, empty, worthless and untrue, and against the real warmth and worth and friendliness41 of man!”
For a moment hot resentful words rose to his lips: that act of empty reverence seemed to him, somehow, to be arrogant42 and disdainful of humanity; he felt a sudden blind resentment, a choking anger against old Mr. Joel and his grand manners and his growling43 and magnificent old age: he wanted to bring back again the conversation he had overheard at lunch, to ask Joel bitterly who the hell he thought this old man was that he could grandly dispose of man according to his judgment44 as “low cads,” as “gentlemen”— to inquire savagely45 who the hell this damned contriving46, cunning old custodian47 of the treasures of the rich thought he was that he could arrogate48 unto himself the power to pronounce banishment49 on his betters — to call Rousseau a rascal50, and De Musset and Lord Byron “a couple of low cads.”
And childish, foolish as this anger was in all its blind unreason, he was to remember these two trifling51 episodes in later years with a feeling of regret and nameless loss. These two acts on Joel’s part — the one an act of barren interest — a joyless empty interest in the blind opacity of light — and the other an act of barren joyless reverence to old age and an inhuman state — seemed to mark for him the beginning of his gradual separation from his friend, a dumb, inexplicable52 and sorrowful acceptation of their fatal severance53. It seemed to him that here began that slow, and somehow desperately54 painful recognition that the enchanted world of wealth and love and beauty, of living fulfilment and of fruitful power, which he had visioned as a child in all his dreams about the fabled55 rich along the Hudson River — did not exist; and that he must look for that grand life in ways stranger, darker, and more painful in their labyrinthine56 complications than any he had ever dreamed of as a child; and that, like Moses, he must strike water from the common stone of life, and like Samson, take honey from the savage lion’s maw of the great world, find all the joy of living that he lusted58 for in the blind swarm59, the brutal stupefaction of the streets; goodness and truth in the mean hearts of common men; and beauty in the only place where it can ever be found — inextricably meshed60, inwrought, and interwoven in that great web of horror, pain and sweat and bitter anguish61, that great woven fabric62 of blind cruelty, hatred63, filth64 and lust57 and tyranny and injustice65, of joy, of faith, of love, of courage and devotion — that makes up life and that resumes the world.
It was a desolating66 loss, a hideous67 acknowledgment, a cruel discovery — to know that all the haunted glory of this enchanted world, which he thought he had discovered the night before, had been just what it now seemed to him to be-moon-magic — and to know that it was gone from him for ever. It was a bitter pill to know that what had seemed so grand, so strong, so right, and so inevitable68 at the moment of discovery was now lost to him — that some blind chemistry of man’s common earth, and of his father’s clay, and of genial69 nature, had taken from him what he seemed to possess, and that he could never make this enchanted life his own again, or ever again believe in its reality. It was a desperate and soul-sickening discovery to know that not alone through moonlight, magic, and the radiant images of their heart’s desire could men find America, but that somewhere there, and far darklier and strangelier than the river, lay the thing they sought, in all the blind and brutal complications of its destiny — buried there in the grimy and illimitable jungles of its savage cities — a-prowl and raging in the desert and half mad with hunger in the barren land, befouled and smutted with the rust70 and grime of its vast works and factories, warped71 and scarred and twisted, stunned72, bewildered by the huge multitude of all its errors and blind gropings, yet still fierce with life, still savage with its hunger, still broken, slain73 and devoured74 by its terrific earth, its savage wilderness — and still, somehow, God knows how, the thing of which he was a part, that beat in every atom of his blood and brain and life, and was indestructible and everlasting, and that was America!
Miss Telfair’s house, which they now entered, was just the sort of house that one would expect a woman like Miss Telfair to live in. Everywhere one looked, one saw the image of the woman’s personality — and that personality was fragile, exquisite75, elegant, and elaborately minute. In spite of its graceful76, plain proportions, that house was not wholly a comfortable place to be in. It was filled with ten thousand little things — ten thousand little, fragile, costly77, lovely and completely useless little things, and their profusion78 was so great, their arrangement so exquisitely79 right, their proximity80 so immediate1 and overwhelming that one instantly felt cramped81, uneasy, and uncomfortable, fearfully apprehensive82 lest a sudden free and spacious83 movement should send a thousand rare and terribly costly little things crashing into shattered bits, the treasure of a lifetime irretrievably lost, and one’s own life and work and future irretrievably mortgaged, blighted84, wrecked85, in one shattering instant of blind ruin. In short, in Miss Telfair’s lovely, exquisite and toy-becluttered house, one felt very much like a delicate, sensitive, intelligent and highly organized bull in a horribly expensive china-shop, and this feeling was cruelly enhanced if one was twenty-three years old and six and a half feet tall, and large of hand and foot, and long of arm and leg in just proportion, and painfully embarrassed, and given to sudden and convulsive movements, and keyed and strung on the same wires as a racehorse.
It was an astonishing place, about as exquisitely feminine a place as one could imagine. One had only to take a look round to feel that no man had ever lived here, that the only man who ever came here had come as a visitor; and somehow one felt at once he knew the reason why Miss Telfair had not married — she simply did not want to have “a man about the place,” a disgusting, clumsy brute87 of a man who would go plunging88 round like a wild bull, sending her vases crashing to the floor, upsetting her fragile little tables and all the precious little bric-à-brac that crowded them, sprawling89 out upon the voluptuously90 soft but elegantly arrayed cushions of the sofa, reaching for matches on the mantel and sweeping91 it clear of a half-dozen dainty eighteenth-century clocks and plates and china shepherds with one swinging blow, barging into dainty little stools of painted china and sending it a-teeter while Miss Telfair watched and prayed and waited with a smile of frozen apprehension92, raising hell with the Wedgwood plates, the vases of Dresden and of Delft, and making the buried kings of the old Ming dynasty turn over in their graves with groans93 of anguish every time some brute of a bull of a man came lumbering94 near the dearest and most priceless treasures of their epoch95.
Miss Telfair, herself the most dainty, fragile, and exquisitely inviolable ornament96 of the collection, was waiting for them at the centre of this fabulous97 clutter86. She gave each of the young men a quick cool clasp of her small, frail98, nail-bevarnished hand, a few crisp words of greeting, and a quick light smile, as brittle99, frail, and painted as a bit of china — a smile curiously like that of Mrs. Pierce in its glacial rigidity100 but, like everything else about the woman, more fragile, delicate, and shell-like.
Then she turned and led the way through the house out into the sun-porch. The two young men picked their way carefully between the frail and crowded complications of a thousand costly relics101 and around great bowls and vases filled with flowers — great bouquets102 of roses, lilies and carnations103, which were everywhere — and which filled the air with the clinging, dense, and overpowering sweetness of their perfumes.
The sun-parlour was a great, light place, alive and golden with bright sunlight — a magnificent room with comfortably padded wicker chairs and tables and settees, but here, as elsewhere in the house, the fabulous complication of small useless ornaments104 was overwhelming, and one walked with care. This room also was filled with great bowls of roses, lilies and carnations, the air was dense and heavy with their scent, and through the windows of the place one could see the smooth velvet105 of the lawns, trimly patterned with designs of flowers aflame with all their glorious polychrome of colour, and at the end the flower-garden, which was alive with many rich and costly blooms growing in geometric designs. It was just the kind of flower-garden, just the kind of flowers, that a woman like Miss Telfair would have: their orderly, exotic and unnatural106 profusion suggested the cultivation107 of a hot-house; even the wild and lyric108 growth of sweet unordered nature had been made to conform to the elegant and fragile pattern of Miss Telfair’s life.
She led the way to a wicker table where there were easy chairs and a comfortable settee and great flaming fragrant lights of flowers. They seated themselves and tea was brought in by a maid-servant. The service of the tea was fragile, costly, elegant, like everything else about the woman; but it was also wonderful, rich, and generous in its abundance, and this was probably like her, too. There were delicate little pastries109, cubes, and crusts of things that were so flaky, rich and succulent that they melted away in the mouth; and there were little cubes and squares of sandwiches as well, all dainty, elegant, and small, but wonderfully good. She asked them if they wanted hot-tea or iced-tea or some whisky: the day was hot and Joel took iced-tea, refusing whisky; the other youth took iced-tea too — she poured it for them in marvellous tall frail glasses filled with slivers110 of bright ice, and put in mint and lemon, doing all things deftly111, beautifully, with her small, swift, china-lovely hands, and then turning to Joel’s guest, with her light cool smile, her crisp incisive112 inquiry113, in which there was somehow something good and generous, she said:
“And won’t you have some whisky, too?” and as he hesitated, and looked dubious114 yet consenting, added: “In your iced-tea — if you like it that way?”
He looked at her, perplexed115, and said uncertainly:
“I— don’t know. . . . Does it go that way?”
Miss Telfair bent116 back her head — her cheeks had the delicate colour of rose-tinted china, and she was pretty in the rose-tinted-china way — and laughed a thin, metallic117, and yet musical and friendly laugh.
“Oh, yes!” she cried briskly and gaily118, “it goes that way! . . . It goes very well that way.” More seriously, she added: “Yes, it’s really very good that way”— and crisply, yet encouragingly, with her fire-bright china-smile —“why don’t you try it?”
He looked at Joel dubiously119, not certain what to do, and not wishing to embarrass his friend, and Joel looked back, with his radiant eager smile, shaking his head in droll120 refusal, whispering:
“Not for me. But go on if you like. Do as you like —”
“Well, then —” he said consentingly — and Miss Telfair, smiling lightly, took a bottle of Scotch121 whisky off the tray, uncorked it, and poured a drink into the tea — a good stiff shot it was, too — and when he had finished the drink, she poured him out another, adding another liberal potation of the Scotch.
Thus animated122 and released, he felt more at ease: they talked together quickly and easily; he had a good time. She was a bright, quick, cool, inquiring kind of woman, at once detached yet friendly, coolly amused yet curious: she asked him about his work at the university, the kind of classes that he taught and the kind of people that attended them, the kind of life he had in the city, and about the play that he was writing. The detached coolness of her curiosity was much like that of Mrs. Pierce, and suggested the curiosity of a woman of a separate and privileged world hearing about the creatures who lived in the great nameless world of dust and noise and strife123 and swelter “down below”— and yet it was also a more friendly and eager curiosity than Mrs. Pierce had shown: it had a certain warmth of human interest in it, too.
She was obviously very fond of Joel: her relation to him was that of an old-maid friend of the family, who is so intimate and close to all the family’s history that she is practically a part of it herself, and who feels for the children and all their lives and actions as much affection and interest as she could feel for her own blood. Now she turned to Joel, and began to talk to him about some decorative124 screens which he was painting for her: as one might expect, she knew all about decorative screens and their respective merits; she spoke125 of them with the exact authority, the assured conviction of the expert, she spoke her mind about them crisply, plainly, incisively126, and Joel listened to her eagerly, his gaunt face lifted, turned towards her in an attitude of rapt attention and respect, while she was talking.
“The central one is excellent, Joel — really first-rate, the best one you’ve ever done — and DECIDEDLY the best of the lot. The one on the right is also good — not as good as the first, it swings off-balance in the foreground. I’ll show you what I mean tomorrow — but it is good, and will do.”
“What about the other one — the one on the left?” he whispered eagerly. “What did you think of that?”
“I think it’s very, very bad,” she said coolly and incisively. “I think you’ve fallen down on it, and that you’re going to have to do the whole thing over again.”
For a moment his gaunt face winced127, but not with pain and disappointment, rather with swift, concerned interest, eager attentiveness128: he hitched129 his long thin figure forward unconsciously, his large well-boned hands splayed out upon his knees, and he whispered eagerly:
“But why, Madge? . . . Tell me. Where do you think I’ve fallen down?”
“Well,” said Miss Telfair, “in the first place, Joel, you’ve lost out on your design — It falls all to pieces now, you’ve let the whole thing get away from you: you were trying to follow it out from the one in the middle and bring it to an end, but you didn’t know how to finish it — and so you put in that pavilion or summer-house or whatever it is — because you didn’t know what else to do.”
“Don’t you like that?” he whispered, smiling.
“I think it’s perfectly130 god-awful,” she answered quietly, “utterly meaningless — simply terrible! It has no relation to anything else in the whole design — it stands out like a sore thumb — and the colour is atrocious. . . . No, Joel, the whole thing is out of key, it upsets the whole design, it has no place there.”
“And what about the background?” he whispered. “What did you think of that?”
“I think that’s bad, too,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation131. “You’ve used FAR, FAR too much gold — almost twice as much as you did in the other two — the proportion is very bad.”
“Hm,” he muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Yes,” he whispered, “I see what you mean. . . . I hadn’t thought about the pavilion being out of key — perhaps you’re right. . . . But,” he whispered, smiling his radiantly gentle and good-natured smile, “I DON’T agree with you about the background being bad, nor that I have used too much gold on it. But I will argue with you about that.”
“All right,” she answered crisply and good-naturedly. “I’ll come over tomorrow and we’ll have it out. . . . But,” she shook her head, and spoke with a crisp but obstinate132 conviction, “Joel, I KNOW I’m right! . . . That whole screen is out of proportion. It WON’T do. . . . You’ll have to do the whole thing over again.”
They debated in this fashion of art-talk for some time, and presently the young men rose to go. As they departed, Miss Telfair returned to her former tone of crisp and casual friendliness, saying:
“What is Ida doing tonight? Is she going to the Pastons’ for the fireworks?”
“Yes,” Joel whispered. “We’re all going; can’t you come along?”
“No, thank you,” she said, smiling. “Not this time. They’re very lovely — and very awe-inspiring — and all that — but about once every five years is my limit. I would NOT get into that mob tonight, as hot as it is, for a million dollars. . . . Tell Ida I expect her here for lunch tomorrow: Irene will be here. . . . And now, good-bye,” she said, turning to the other young man, and giving him a bright china smile, a swift cool pressure of her little china hand. . . . “Come up again to see us, won’t you? . . . And bring your play along. And try going to bed some night at ten o’clock. . . . Really!” she said with a crisp cool irony133, “— you miss very little by doing so.”
As they walked away along the road towards Joel’s house, Joel whispered with his radiant and admiring astonishment134:
“She’s SIMP-LY incredible! . . . Don’t you THINK so? . . . She KNOWS everything,” he went on, without defining more exactly that large specification135. “It’s simply STUPENDOUS the things she knows! . . . And she’s SUCH a nice person,” he said quietly. “One of the NICEST people that I ever knew — just what an old maid ought to be-don’t you think so?”
“Yes. But why is she an old maid? Why did she never get married?”
“Hm,” said Joel thoughtfully, looking down the road with a detached, abstracted stare. “I can’t say. . . . She’s AWFULLY136 rich,” he whispered. “ENORMOUSLY rich — she has loads of money — she’s been able to do JUST as she pleased all her life — she’s BEEN everywhere — all over the world — and I suppose that’s the reason that she never married. She never found anyone that she liked well enough to give up the kind of life she had. . . . But she’s an amazing person. . . . Don’t you think so?”
“Yes,” the other said.
They walked on down the road, and presently they saw the great white shape of Joel’s house, framed in the trees before them, and below them in the light and distance of a westering sun, the shine and wink137 of the great river. They entered the house.
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1
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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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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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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secrecies
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| 保密（secrecy的复数形式） | |
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potency
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| n. 效力，潜能 | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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opacity
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| n.不透明；难懂 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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sustenance
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| n.食物，粮食；生活资料；生计 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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inexplicably
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| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
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appraisal
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| n.对…作出的评价；评价，鉴定，评估 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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39
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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40
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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41
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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42
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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43
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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44
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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45
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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46
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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47
custodian
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| n.保管人，监护人；公共建筑看守 | |
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48
arrogate
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| v.冒称具有...权利，霸占 | |
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49
banishment
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| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
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50
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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51
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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52
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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53
severance
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| n.离职金；切断 | |
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54
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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55
fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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56
labyrinthine
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| adj.如迷宫的；复杂的 | |
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57
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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58
lusted
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| 贪求（lust的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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59
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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60
meshed
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| 有孔的，有孔眼的，啮合的 | |
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61
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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62
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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63
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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64
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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65
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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66
desolating
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| 毁坏( desolate的现在分词 )； 极大地破坏； 使沮丧； 使痛苦 | |
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67
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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68
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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69
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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70
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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71
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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72
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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73
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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74
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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75
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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76
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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77
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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78
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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79
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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80
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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81
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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82
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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83
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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84
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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85
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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86
clutter
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| n.零乱，杂乱；vt.弄乱，把…弄得杂乱 | |
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87
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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88
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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89
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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91
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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92
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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93
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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94
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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95
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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96
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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97
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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98
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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99
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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100
rigidity
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| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
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101
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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102
bouquets
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| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
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103
carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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104
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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105
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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106
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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107
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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108
lyric
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| n.抒情诗，歌词；adj.抒情的 | |
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109
pastries
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| n.面粉制的糕点 | |
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110
slivers
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| （切割或断裂下来的）薄长条，碎片( sliver的名词复数 ) | |
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111
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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112
incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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113
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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114
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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115
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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116
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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117
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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118
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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119
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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120
droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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121
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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122
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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123
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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124
decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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125
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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126
incisively
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| adv.敏锐地，激烈地 | |
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127
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
attentiveness
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| [医]注意 | |
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129
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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130
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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131
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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132
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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133
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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134
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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135
specification
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| n.详述；[常pl.]规格，说明书，规范 | |
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136
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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137
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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