They passed long strings4 of silent, darkened railway compartments5, and as they neared the station, several suburban6 trains steamed past them, loaded with people going home. Some of the trains were the queer little double-deckers that one sees in France: Eugene felt like laughing every time he saw them and yet, with their loads of Frenchmen going home, they too were like something he had always known. As the train came into the station, and slowed down to its halt, he could see a boat-train ready for departure on another track. Sleek7 as a panther, groomed8, opulent, ready, purring softly as a cat, the train waited there like a luxurious9 projectile10, evoking11 perfectly12, and at once, the whole structure of the world of power and wealth and pleasure that had created it. Beyond it one saw the whole universe of pleasure — a world of great hotels and famed resorts, the thrilling structure of the huge, white-breasted liners, and the slanting13 race and drive of their terrific stacks. One saw behind it the dark coast of France, the flash of beacons15, the grey, fortressed harbour walls, the bracelet16 of their hard, spare lights, and beyond, beyond, one saw the infinite beat and swell17 of stormy seas, the huge nocturnal slant14 and blaze of liners racing18 through immensity, and for ever beyond, beyond, one saw the faint, pale coasts of morning and America, and then the spires19 and ramparts of the enfabled isle20, the legendary21 and aerial smoke, the stone and steel, of the terrific city.
Now their own train had come to a full stop, and he and Starwick were walking up the quay22 among the buzzing crowd of people.
Starwick turned and, flushing painfully, said in a constrained23 and mannered tone:
“Look! Shall I being seeing you again?”
Eugene answered curtly24: “I don’t know. If you want to find me, I suppose I shall be at the same place, for a time.”
“And after that? — Where will you go?”
“I don’t know,” he answered brusquely again. “I haven’t thought about it yet. I’ve got to wait until I get money to go away on.”
The flush in Starwick’s ruddy face deepened perceptibly, and, after another pause, and with obvious embarrassment25, he continued as before:
“Look! Where are you going now?”
“I don’t know, Francis,” he said curtly. “To the hotel, I suppose, to leave my suitcase and see if they’ve still got a room for me. If I don’t see you again, I’ll say good-bye to you now.”
Starwick’s embarrassment had become painful to watch; he did not speak for another moment, then said:
“Look! Do you mind if I come along with you?”
He did mind; he wanted to be alone; to get away as soon as he could from Starwick’s presence and all the hateful memories it evoked26, but he said shortly:
“You can come along if you like, of course, but I see no reason why you should. If you’re going to the studio we can take a taxi and you can drop me at the hotel. But if you’re meeting somebody over on this side later on, why don’t you wait over here for him?”
Starwick’s face was flaming with shame and humiliation27; he seemed to have difficulty in pronouncing his words and when he finally turned to speak, the other youth was shocked to see in his eyes a kind of frantic28, naked desperation.
“Then, look!” he said, and moistened his dry lips. “Could you let me have some — some money, please?”
Something strangely like terror and entreaty29 looked out of his eyes:
“I’ve GOT to have it,” he said desperately30.
“How much do you want?”
Starwick was silent, and then muttered:
“I could get along with 500 francs.”
The other calculated swiftly: the sum amounted at the time to about thirty dollars. It was almost half his total remaining funds but — one look at the desperate humiliation and entreaty of Starwick’s face, and a surge of savage31, vindictive32 joy swept through him — it would be worth it.
“All right,” he nodded briefly33, and started to walk forward again.
“You come with me while I leave this stuff at the hotel and later on we’ll see if we can’t get these cheques cashed.”
Starwick consented eagerly. From that time on, Eugene played with him as a cat plays with a mouse. They got a taxi and were driven across the Seine to his little hotel, he left Starwick below while he went upstairs with his valise, promising34 to “be down in a minute, after I’ve washed up a bit,” and took a full and lesiurely three-quarters of an hour. When he got downstairs, Starwick’s restless manner had increased perceptibly: he was pacing up and down, smoking one cigarette after another. In the same leisurely35 and maddening manner they left the hotel. Starwick asked where they were going: Eugene replied cheerfully that they were going to dinner at a modest little restaurant across the Seine. By the time they had walked across the bridge, and through the enormous arches of the Louvre, Starwick was gnawing36 his lips with chagrin37. In the restaurant Eugene ordered dinner and a bottle of wine; Starwick refused to eat, Eugene expressed regret and pursued his meal deliberately38. By the time he had finished, and was cracking nuts, Starwick was almost frantic. He demanded impatiently to know where they were going, and the other answered chidingly39:
“Now, Frank, what’s the hurry? You’ve got the whole night ahead of you: there’s no rush at all. . . . Besides, why not stay here a while? It’s a good place. Don’t you think so? I discovered it all by myself!”
Starwick looked about him, and said:
“Yes, the place is all right, I suppose, the food looks good — it really does, you know — but GOD!” he snarled40 bitterly, “how dull! how dull!”
“DULL?” Eugene said chidingly, and with an air of fine astonishment41. “Frank, Frank, such language — and from YOU! Is this the poet and the artist, the man of feeling and of understanding, the lover of humanity? Is this GRAND, is this FINE, is this SWELL?” he jeered42. “Is this the lover of the French — the man who’s more at home here than he is at home? Why, Frank, this is unworthy of you: I thought that every breath you drew was saturated43 with the love of France. I thought that every pulse-beat of your artist’s soul beat in sympathy with the people of this noble country. I thought that you would love this place — find it SIMPLY SWELL,” he sneered45, “and VERY grand and MOST amusing — and here you turn your nose up at the people and call them dull — as if they were a lot of damned Americans! DULL! How can they be DULL, Frank? Don’t you see they’re FRENCH? . . . Now this boy here, for example,” he pointed46 to a bus-boy of eighteen years who was noisily busy piling dishes from a table on to a tray. —“Isn’t he a SWEET person, Frank?” he went on with an evil, jeering47 mimicry48 —“and there’s something VERY grand and ENORMOUSLY moving about the way he piles those dishes on a tray,” he continued with a deliberate parody49 of Starwick’s mannered accent. “— I MEAN, the whole thing’s there — it really is, you know — it’s like that painting by Cimabue in the Louvre that we both like so much — you know the one of the Madonna with the little madonnas all around her. — I mean the way he uses his hands — Look!” he crooned rapturously as the bus-boy took a thick, blunt finger and vigorously wiped his rheumy nose with it. “— Now where, WHERE, Frank,” he said ecstatically, “could you find anything like that in America? I MEAN, the GRACE, the DIGNITY, the complete unselfconsciousness with which that boy just wiped his nose across his finger — or his finger across his nose — Hah! hah! hah! — I get all confused, Frank — REALLY! — the movement is so beautiful and fluid — it’s hard to say just which is which — which does the WIPING— nose or finger — I mean, the whole thing’s QUITE incredible — and MOST astonishing — the way it comes back on itself: it’s like a FUGUE, you know,” and looking at the other earnestly, he said deeply: “You see what I mean, don’t you?”
Starwick’s face had flamed crimson50 during the course of this jeering parody: he returned the other’s look with hard eyes, and said with cold succinctness51:
“Quite! . . . If you don’t mind, could we go along now and,”— his flush deepened and he concluded with painful difficulty, “ . . . and . . . and do what you said you would?”
“But of COURSE!” the other cried, with another parody of Starwick’s tone and manner. “At once! Immediately! TOUT52 DE SUITE53! . . . as we say over here! . . . Now, THERE you are!” he said enthusiastically. “THERE you are, Frank! . . . TOUT DE SUITE!” he murmured rapturously. “TOUT DE SUITE! . . . Not ‘at once!’ Not ‘right away!’ Not ‘immediately!’ But TOUT DE SUITE! . . . Ah, Frank, how different from our own coarse tongue! Quel charme! Quelle musique! Quelle originalité! . . . I MEAN, the whole thing’s there! . . . It really is, you know!”
“Quite!” said Starwick as before, and looked at him with hard, embittered54 eyes. “Could we go now?”
“Mais oui, mais oui, mon ami! . . . But first, I want you to meet yon noble youth who wipes his nose with such a simple unaffected dignity, and is, withal, so FRENCH about it! . . . I know him well, we artists have the common touch, n’est-ce pas? Many a time and oft have we talked together. . . . Why, Frank, you’re going to love him like a brother . . . the whole, great heart of France is beating underneath55 that waiter’s jacket . . . and, ah! such grace, such flashing rapier-work of Gallic wit, such quick intelligence and humour. . . . Ecoutez, gar?on!” he called; the boy turned, startled, and then, seeing the young men, his thick lips slowly wreathed themselves in a smile of amiable56 stupidity. He came towards them smiling eagerly, a clumsy boy of eighteen years with the thick features, the dry, thick lips, the blunted, meaty hands and encrusted nails of the peasant. It was a face of slow, wondering intelligence, thick-witted, unperceptive, flushed with strong, dark colour, full of patient earnestness, and animal good-nature.
“Bonsoir, monsieur,” he said, as he came up. “Vous désirez quelque chose?” And he grinned at them slowly, with a puzzled, trustful stare.
“But yes, my boy! . . . I have been telling my friend about you, and he wants to meet you. He is, like me, an American . . . but a true friend of France. And so I told him how you loved America!”
“But yes, but yes!” the boy cried earnestly, clutching eagerly at the suggestion. “La France and l’Amérique are of the true friends, n’est-ce pas, monsieur?”
“You have reason! It’s as you say!”
“Vashingtawn!” the boy cried suddenly, with a burst of happy inspiration.
“But yes! But yes! . . . Lafayette!” the other yelled enthusiastically.
“Pair-SHING!” the boy cried rapturously. “La France et l’Amérique!” he passionately59 proclaimed, and he turned slowly to Starwick, joined his thick, blunt fingers together, and thrusting them under Starwick’s nose, nodded his thick head vigorously and cried: “C’est comme ?a! . . . La France et l’Amérique!”— he shook his thick joined fingers vigorously under Starwick’s nose again, and said: “Mais oui! Mais oui! . . . C’est toujours comme ?a!”
“Oh, my God!” groaned60 Starwick, turning away, “how dull! How utterly62, UNSPEAKABLY dreary63!”
“Monsieur?” the boy spoke64 inquiringly, and turned blunt, puzzled features at Starwick’s dejected back.
Starwick’s only answer was another groan61: flinging a limp arm over the back of his chair, he slumped66 in an attitude of exhausted67 weariness. The boy turned a patient, troubled face to the other youth, who said, in an explanatory way:
“He is profoundly moved. . . . What you have said has touched him deeply!”
“Ah-h!” the boy cried, with an air of sudden, happy enlightenment, and thus inspired, began with renewed ardour, and many a vigorous wag of his thick and earnest beak68, to proclaim:
“Mais c’est vrai! C’est comme je dis! . . . La France et l’Amérique —” he intoned anew.
“Oh, God!” groaned Starwick without turning, and waved a feeble and defeated arm. “Tell him to go away!”
“He is deeply moved! He says he can stand no more!”
The boy cast an earnest and immensely gratified look at Starwick’s dejected back, and was on the point of pushing his triumph farther when the proprietor69 angrily called to him, bidding him be about his work and leave the gentlemen in peace.
He departed with obvious reluctance70, but not without vigorously nodding his thick head again, proclaiming that “La France et l’Amérique sont comme ?a!” and shaking his thick, clasped fingers earnestly in a farewell gesture of racial amity71.
When he had gone, Starwick looked round wearily, and in a dispirited tone said:
“God! What a place! How did you ever find it? . . . And how do you manage to stand it?”
“But look at him, Frank . . . I mean, don’t you just LO-O-VE it?” he jibed72. “I mean, there’s something so GRAND and so SIMPLE and so UNAFFECTED about the way he did it! It’s really QUITE astonishing! It really is, you know!”
The poor bus-boy, indeed, had been intoxicated73 by his sudden and unaccustomed success. Now, as he continued his work of clearing tables and stacking dishes on a tray, he could be seen nodding his thick head vigorously and muttering to himself: “Mais oui, mais oui, monsieur! . . . La France et l’Amérique. . . . Nous sommes de vrais amis!” and from time to time he would even pause in his work to clasp his thick fingers together illustrating74 this and to mutter: “C’est toujours comme ?a!”
This preoccupied76 elation77 soon proved the poor boy’s undoing79. For even as he lifted his loaded tray and balanced it on one thick palm he muttered “C’est comme ?a,” again, making a recklessly inclusive gesture with his free hand; the mountainously balanced tray was thrown off balance, he made a desperate effort to retrieve80 it, and as it crashed upon the floor he pawed frantically81 and sprawled82 after it, in one general ruinous smash of broken crockery.
There was a maddened scream from the proprietor. He came running clumsily, a squat83, thick figure of a bourgeois84 Frenchman, clothed in black and screaming imprecations. His moustaches bristled85 like the quills86 of an enraged87 porcupine88, and his ruddy face was swollen89 and suffused90, an apoplectic91 red:
“Brute! Fool! Imbecile!” he screamed as the frightened boy clambered to his feet and stood staring at him with a face full of foolish and helpless bewilderment. “ . . . Salaud! . . . Pig . . . Architect!” he screamed out this meaningless curse in a strangling voice, and rushing at the boy cuffed92 him clumsily on the side of the face and began to thrust and drive him before him in staggering lunges.
“— And what grace, Frank!” Eugene now said cruelly. “How GRAND and SIMPLE and how unselfconscious they are in everything they do! I MEAN, the way they use their hands!” he said ironically, as the maddened proprietor gave the unfortunate boy another ugly, clumsy shove that sent him headlong. “I MEAN, it’s like a fugue — like Cimabue or an early primitive93 — it really is, you know —”
“Assassin! Criminal!” the proprietor screamed at this moment, and gave the weeping boy a brutal94 shove that sent him sprawling95 forward upon his hands and knees:
“Traitor! Misérable scélérat!” he screamed, and kicked clumsily at the prostrate96 boy with one fat leg.
“Now where? — where?” Eugene said maliciously97, as the wretched boy clambered to his feet, weeping bitterly, “— where, Francis, could you see anything like that in America?”
“God!” said Starwick, getting up. “It’s unspeakable!” And desperately: “Let’s go!”
They paid the bill and went out. As they went down the stairs they could still hear the hoarse98, choked sobs99 of the bus-boy, his thick face covered with his thick, blunt fingers, crying bitterly.
He didn’t know what Starwick wanted the money for, but it was plain he wanted it for something, badly. His agitation100 was pitiable:— the bitter exasperation101 and open flare102 of temper he had displayed once or twice in the restaurant was so unnatural103 to him that it was evident his nerves were being badly rasped by the long delay. Now, he kept consulting his watch nervously104: he turned, and looking at Eugene with a quiet but deep resentment105 in his eyes, he said:
“Look. If you’re going to let me have the money, I wish you’d let me have it now — please. Otherwise, I shall not need it.”
And Eugene, touched with a feeling of guilt106 at the deep and quiet resentment in his companion’s face, knowing he had promised him the money and feeling that this taunting107 procrastination108 was ungenerous and mean, said roughly:
“All right, come on. You can have it right away.”
They turned into the Rue57 St. Honoré, turned again, and walked to the Place Vend109?me, where there was a small exchange office — or “all-night bank”— where travellers’ cheques were cashed. They entered, he cashed his three remaining cheques: the amount was something over 900 francs. He counted the money, kept out 500 francs for Starwick, stuffed the rest into his pocket, and, turning, thrust the little sheaf of banknotes into Starwick’s hand, saying brutally110:
“There’s you money, Frank. And now, good-bye to you. I needn’t detain you any longer.”
He turned to go, but the implication of his sneer44 had not gone unnoticed:
“Just a minute,” Starwick’s quiet voice halted him. “What did you mean by that?”
He paused, with a slow thick anger beating in his veins111:
“By what?”
“By saying you needn’t detain me any longer?”
“You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“You mean the money?”
“Yes.”
Starwick looked quietly at him a moment longer, then thrust the little roll of banknotes back into his hand.
“Take it,” he said.
For a moment the other could not speak. A murderous fury choked him: he ground his teeth together, and clenched112 his fist, he felt a moment’s almost insane desire to grip that soft throat with his strangling hand and beat the face into a bloody113 jelly with his fist.
“Why, God-damn you —” he grated between clenched teeth. “Goddamn you for a —!” He turned away, saying harshly: “To hell with you! . . . I’m through!”
He began to walk away across the Square at a savage stride. He heard footsteps following him: near the corner of the Rue St. Honoré Starwick caught up with him and said doggedly114:
“No, but I’m going with you! . . . I really MUST, you know!” His voice rose and became high, almost womanish, with his passionate58 declaration: “If there’s anything between you and me that has to be settled before you go away, you can’t leave it like this . . . we’ve got to have it out, you know . . . we really must!”
The other youth stood stock-still for a moment. Every atom of him — blood, bone, the beating of his heart, the substance of his flesh — seemed to congeal115 in a paralysis116 of cold murder. He licked his dry lips and said thickly:
“Have it out!”— The blood swarmed117 through him in a choking flood, it seemed instantly to rush down through his hands and to fill him with a savage, rending118 strength, the curse was torn from him in a bestial119 cry and snarling120:
“Have it out! Why, you damned rascal121, we’ll have it out, all right! We’ll have it out, you dirty little fairy —” The foul122 word was out at last, in one blind expletive of murderous hate, and suddenly that tortured, impossibly tangled123 web of hatred124, failure, and despair found its release. He reached out, caught Starwick by the throat and collar of his shirt, and endowed with that immense, incalculable strength which hatred and the sudden lust75 to kill can give a man, he lifted the slight figure from the ground as if it were a bundle of rags and sticks, and slammed it back against the fa?ade of a building with such brutal violence that Starwick’s head bounced and rattled on the stone. The blow knocked Starwick senseless: his hat went flying from his head, his cane125 fell from his grasp and rattled on the pavement with a hard, lean clatter126. For a moment, his eyes rolled back and forth127 with the wooden, weighted movement of a doll’s. Then, as Eugene released his grip, his legs buckled128 at the knees, his eyes closed and his head sagged129, and he began to slump65 down towards the pavement, his back sliding all the time against the wall.
He would have fallen if Eugene had not caught him, held him, propped him up against the wall, until he could recover. And at that moment, Eugene felt an instant, overwhelming revulsion of shame, despair, and sick horror, such as he had never known before. For a moment all the blood seemed to have drained out of his heart and left it a dead shell. He thought he had killed Starwick — broken his neck or fractured his skull130: even in death — or unconsciousness — Starwick’s frail131 body retained its languorous132 dignity and grace. His head dropped heavily to one side, the buckling133 weight of the unconscious figure slumped in a movement of terrible and beautiful repose134 — the same movement that one sees in a great painting of Christ lowered from the cross, as if, indeed, the whole rhythm, balance and design of that art which Starwick had observed with such impassioned mimicry had left its image indelibly upon his own life, so that, even in death or senselessness, his body would portray135 it.
At that moment the measure of ruin and defeat which the other young man felt was overwhelming. It seemed to him that if he had deliberately contrived136 to crown a ruinous career by the most shameful137 and calamitous138 act of all, he could not have been guilty of a worse crime than the one he had just committed. It was not merely the desperate, sickening terror in his heart when he thought that Starwick might be dead — that he had killed him. It was even more than this, a sense of profanation139, a sense of having done something so foul and abominable140 that he could never recover from it, never wash its taint141 out of his blood. There are some people who possess such a natural dignity of person — such a strange and rare inviolability of flesh and spirit — that any familiarity, any insult, above all any act of violence upon them, is unthinkable. If such an insult be intended, if such violence be done, the act returns a thousandfold upon the one who does it: his own blow returns to deal a terrible revenge; he will relive his crime a thousand times in all the shame and terror of inexpiable memory.
Starwick was such a person: he had this quality of personal inviolability more than anyone the other youth had ever known. And now, as he stood there holding Starwick propped against the wall, calling him by name, shaking him and pleading with him to recover consciousness, his feeling of shame, despair, and bitter ruinous defeat was abysmal142, irremediable. It seemed to him that he could have done nothing which would more have emphasized his enemy’s superiority and his own defeat than this thing which he had done. And the feeling that Starwick would always beat him, always take from him the thing he wanted most, that by no means could he ever match the other youth in any way, gain even the most trifling143 victory, was now overpowering in its horror. With a sick and bitter heart of misery144, he cursed the wretched folly145 of his act. He would willingly have cut off his hand — the hand that gave the blow — if by so doing he could undo78 his act, but he knew that it was now too late, and with a feeling of blind terror he reflected that this knowledge of his defeat and fear was now Starwick’s also, and that as long as Starwick lived, he would always know about it, and realize from this alone the full measure of his victory. And this feeling of shame, horror, and abysmal, inexpiable regret persisted even after, with a feeling of sick relief, he saw Starwick’s eyes flutter, open, and after a moment of vague, confused bewilderment, look at him with a quiet consciousness.
Nevertheless, his feeling of relief was unspeakable. He bent146, picked up Starwick’s hat and cane, and gave them to him, saying quietly:
“I’m sorry, Frank.”
Starwick put on his hat and took the cane in his hand.
“It doesn’t matter. If that’s the way you felt, you had to do it,” he said in a quiet, toneless and inflexible147 voice. “But now, before we leave each other, we must see this through. We’ve got to bring this thing into the open, find out what it is. That MUST be done, you know!” His voice had risen with an accent of inflexible resolve, an accent which the other had heard before, and which he knew no fear of death or violence or any desperate consequence could ever alter by a jot148. “I’ve got to understand what this thing is before I leave you,” Starwick said. “That must be done.”
“All right!” Eugene said blindly, desperately. “Come on, then!”
And together, they strode along in silence, along the empty pavements of the Rue St. Honoré, past shuttered shops, and old, silent buildings which seemed to abide149 there and attend upon the anguish150 of tormented151 youth with all the infinite, cruel, and impassive silence of dark time, the unspeakable chronicle of foregone centuries, the unspeakable anguish, grief, and desperation of a million vanished, nameless, and forgotten lives.
And thus, in bitter shame and silence and despair, the demented, drunken, carnal, and kaleidoscopic152 circuit of the night began.
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1
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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projectile
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| n.投射物，发射体；adj.向前开进的；推进的；抛掷的 | |
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evoking
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| 产生，引起，唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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beacons
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| 灯塔( beacon的名词复数 )； 烽火； 指路明灯； 无线电台或发射台 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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isle
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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quay
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constrained
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curtly
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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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evoked
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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28
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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29
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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30
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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31
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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32
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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33
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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34
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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35
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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36
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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37
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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38
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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39
chidingly
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| Chidingly | |
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40
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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41
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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42
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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44
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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45
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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47
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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48
mimicry
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| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
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49
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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50
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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51
succinctness
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| n.简洁；简要；简明 | |
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52
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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53
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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54
embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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56
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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57
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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58
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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59
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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60
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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61
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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62
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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63
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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64
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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65
slump
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| n.暴跌，意气消沉，（土地）下沉；vi.猛然掉落，坍塌，大幅度下跌 | |
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66
slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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67
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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68
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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69
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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70
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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71
amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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72
jibed
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| v.与…一致( jibe的过去式和过去分词 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
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73
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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74
illustrating
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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75
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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76
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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77
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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78
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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79
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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80
retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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81
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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82
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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83
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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84
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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85
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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86
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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87
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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88
porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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89
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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90
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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91
apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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92
cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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94
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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95
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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96
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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97
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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98
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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99
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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100
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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101
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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102
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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103
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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104
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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105
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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106
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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107
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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108
procrastination
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| n.拖延，耽搁 | |
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109
vend
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| v.公开表明观点，出售，贩卖 | |
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110
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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111
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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112
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
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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114
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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115
congeal
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| v.凝结，凝固 | |
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116
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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117
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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118
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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119
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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120
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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121
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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122
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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123
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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124
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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125
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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126
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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127
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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128
buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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129
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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130
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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131
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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132
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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133
buckling
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| 扣住 | |
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134
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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135
portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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136
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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137
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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138
calamitous
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| adj.灾难的，悲惨的；多灾多难；惨重 | |
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139
profanation
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| n.亵渎 | |
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140
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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141
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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142
abysmal
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| adj.无底的，深不可测的，极深的；糟透的，极坏的；完全的 | |
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143
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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144
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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145
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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146
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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147
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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148
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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149
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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150
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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151
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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152
kaleidoscopic
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| adj.千变万化的 | |
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