Therefore he not only showed no surprise but did not feel any when he beheld18 the master, in the right of his wife, of the Escampobar Farm. The homeless Peyrol, sitting in the bare salle with a bottle of wine before him, was in the act of raising the glass to his lips when the man entered, ex-orator in the sections, leader of red-capped mobs, hunter of the ci-devants and priests, purveyor19 of the guillotine, in short a blood-drinker. And Citizen Peyrol, who had never been nearer than six thousand miles as the crow flies to the realities of the Revolution, put down his glass and in his deep unemotional voice said: “Salut.”
The other returned a much fainter “Salut,” staring at the stranger of whom he had heard already. His almond-shaped, soft eyes were noticeably shiny and so was to a certain extent the skin on his high but rounded cheekbones, coloured red like a mask of which all the rest was but a mass of clipped chestnut20 hair growing so thick and close around the lips as to hide altogether the design of the mouth which, for all Citizen Peyrol knew, might have been of a quite ferocious21 character. A careworn22 forehead and a perpendicular23 nose suggested a certain austerity proper to an ardent24 patriot27. He held in his hand a long bright knife which he laid down on one of the tables at once. He didn't seem more than thirty years old, a well-made man of medium height, with a lack of resolution in his bearing. Something like disillusion28 was suggested by the set of his shoulders. The effect was subtle, but Peyrol became aware of it while he explained his case and finished the tale by declaring that he was a seaman29 of the Republic and that he had always done his duty before the enemy.
The blood-drinker had listened profoundly. The high arches of his eyebrows30 gave him an astonished look. He came close up to the table and spoke31 in a trembling voice.
“You may have! But you may all the same be corrupt32. The seamen of the Republic were eaten up with corruption33 paid for with the gold of the tyrants34. Who would have guessed it? They all talked like patriots35. And yet the English entered the harbour and landed in the town without opposition36. The armies of the Republic drove them out, but treachery stalks in the land, it comes up out of the ground, it sits at our hearthstones, lurks37 in the bosom of the representatives of the people, of our fathers, of our brothers. There was a time when civic38 virtue39 flourished, but now it has got to hide its head. And I will tell you why: there has not been enough killing40. It seems as if there could never be enough of it. It's discouraging. Look what we have come to.”
His voice died in his throat as though he had suddenly lost confidence in himself.
“Bring another glass, citoyen,” said Peyrol, after a short pause, “and let's drink together. We will drink to the confusion of traitors41. I detest43 treachery as much as any man, but. . .”
He waited till the other had returned, then poured out the wine, and after they had touched glasses and half emptied them, he put down his own and continued:
“But you see I have nothing to do with your politics. I was at the other side of the world, therefore you can't suspect me of being a traitor42. You showed no mercy, you other sans-culottes, to the enemies of the Republic at home, and I killed her enemies abroad, far away. You were cutting off heads without much compunction . . . .”
The other most unexpectedly shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them very wide. “Yes, yes,” he assented44 very low. “Pity may be a crime.”
“Yes. And I knocked the enemies of the Republic on the head whenever I had them before me without inquiring about the number. It seems to me that you and I ought to get on together.”
The master of Escampobar farmhouse45 murmured, however, that in times like these nothing could be taken as proof positive. It behoved every patriot to nurse suspicion in his breast. No sign of impatience46 escaped Peyrol. He was rewarded for his self-restraint and the unshaken good-humour with which he had conducted the discussion by, carrying his point. Citizen Scevola Bron (for that appeared to be the name of the master of the farm), an object of fear and dislike to the other inhabitants of the Giens peninsula, might have been influenced by a wish to have some one with whom he could exchange a few words from time to time. No villagers ever came up to the farm, or were likely to, unless perhaps in a body and animated48 with hostile intentions. They resented his presence in their part of the world sullenly49.
“Where do you come from?” was the last question he asked.
“I left Toulon two days ago.”
Citizen Scevola struck the table with his fist, but this manifestation50 of energy was very momentary51.
“And that was the town of which by a decree not a stone upon another was to be left,” he complained, much depressed52.
“Most of it is still standing53,” Peyrol assured him calmly. “I don't know whether it deserved the fate you say was decreed for it. I was there for the last month or so and I know it contains some good patriots. I know because I made friends with them all.” Thereupon Peyrol mentioned a few names which the retired54 sans-culotte greeted with a bitter smile and an ominous55 silence, as though the bearers of them had been only good for the scaffold and the guillotine.
“Come along and I will show you the place where you will sleep,” he said with a sigh, and Peyrol was only too ready. They entered the kitchen together. Through the open back door a large square of sunshine fell on the floor of stone flags. Outside one could see quite a mob of expectant chickens, while a yellow hen postured56 on the very doorstep, darting57 her head right and left with affectation. All old woman holding a bowl full of broken food put it down suddenly on a table and stared. The vastness and cleanliness of the place impressed Peyrol favourably58.
“You will eat with us here,” said his guide, and passed without stopping into a narrow passage giving access to a steep flight of stairs. Above the first landing a narrow spiral staircase led to the upper part of the farmhouse; and when the sans-culotte flung open the solid plank59 door at which it ended he disclosed to Peyrol a large low room containing a four-poster bedstead piled up high with folded blankets and spare pillows. There were also two wooden chairs and a large oval table.
“We could arrange this place for you,” said the master, “but I don't know what the mistress will have to say,” he added.
Peyrol, struck by the peculiar60 expression of his face, turned his head and saw the girl standing in the doorway61. It was as though she had floated up after them, for not the slightest sound of rustle62 or footfall had warned Peyrol of her presence. The pure complexion63 of her white cheeks was set off brilliantly by her coral lips and the bands of raven-black hair only partly covered by a muslin cap trimmed with lace. She made no sign, uttered no sound, behaved exactly as if there had been nobody in the room; and Peyrol suddenly averted65 his eyes from that mute and unconscious face with its roaming eyes.
In some way or other, however, the sans-culotte seemed to have ascertained67 her mind, for he said in a final tone:
“That's all right then,” and there was a short silence, during which the woman shot her dark glances all round the room again and again, while on her lips there was a half-smile, not so much absent-minded as totally unmotived, which Peyrol observed with a side glance, but could not make anything of. She did not seem to know him at all.
“You have a view of salt water on three sides of you,” remarked Peyrol's future host.
The farmhouse was a tall building, and this large attic68 with its three windows commanded on one side the view of Hyères roadstead on the first plan, with further blue undulations of the coast as far as Fréjus; and on the other the vast semicircle of barren high hills, broken by the entrance to Toulon harbour guarded by forts and batteries, and ending in Cape47 Cépet, a squat69 mountain, with sombre folds and a base of brown rocks, with a white spot gleaming on the very summit of it, a ci-devant shrine70 dedicated71 to Our Lady, and a ci-devant place of pilgrimage. The noonday glare seemed absorbed by the gemlike surface of the sea perfectly flawless in the invincible72 depth of its colour.
“It's like being in a lighthouse,” said Peyrol. “Not a bad place for a seaman to live in.” The sight of the sails dotted about cheered his heart. The people of landsmen with their houses and animals and activities did not count. What made for him the life of any strange shore were the craft that belonged to it: canoes, catamarans, ballahous, praus, lorchas, mere73 dug-outs, or even rafts of tied logs with a bit of mat for a sail from which naked brown men fished along stretches of white sand crushed under the tropical skyline, sinister74 in its glare and with a thunder-cloud crouching75 on the horizon. But here he beheld a perfect serenity76, nothing sombre on the shore, nothing ominous in the sunshine. The sky rested lightly on the distant and vaporous outline of the hills; and the immobility of all things seemed poised77 in the air like a gay mirage78. On this tideless sea several tartanes lay becalmed in the Petite Passe between Porquerolles and Cape Esterel, yet theirs was not the stillness of death but of light slumber79, the immobility of a smiling enchantment80, of a Mediterranean81 fair day, breathless sometimes but never without life. Whatever enchantment Peyrol had known in his wanderings it had never been so remote from all thoughts of strife82 and death, so full of smiling security, making all his past appear to him like a chain of lurid83 days and sultry nights. He thought he would never want to get away from it, as though he had obscurely felt that his old rover's soul had been always rooted there. Yes, this was the place for him; not because expediency84 dictated85, but simply because his instinct of rest had found its home at last.
He turned away from the window and found himself face to face with the sans-culotte, who had apparently86 come up to him from behind, perhaps with the intention of tapping him on the shoulder, but who now turned away his head. The young woman had disappeared.
“Tell me, patron,” said Peyrol, “is there anywhere near this house a little dent26 in the shore with a bit of beach in it perhaps where I could keep a boat?”
“What do you want a boat for?”
“To go fishing when I have a fancy to,” answered Peyrol curtly87.
Citizen Bron, suddenly subdued88, told him that what he wanted was to be found a couple of hundred yards down the hill from the house. The coast, of course, was full of indentations, but this was a perfect little pool. And the Toulon blood-drinker's almond-shaped eyes became strangely sombre as they gazed at the attentive89 Peyrol. A perfect little pool, he repeated, opening from a cove64 that the English knew well. He paused. Peyrol observed without much animosity but in a tone of conviction that it was very difficult to keep off the English whenever there was a bit of salt water anywhere; but what could have brought English seamen to a spot like this he couldn't imagine.
“It was when their fleet first came here,” said the patriot in a gloomy voice, “and hung round the coast before the anti-revolutionary traitors let them into Toulon, sold the sacred soil of their country for a handful of gold. Yes, in the days before the crime was consummated90 English officers used to land in that cove at night and walk up to this very house.”
“What audacity91!” commented Peyrol, who was really surprised. “But that's just like what they are.” Still, it was hard to believe. But wasn't it only a tale?
The patriot flung one arm up in a strained gesture. “I swore to its truth before the tribunal,” he said. “It was a dark story,” he cried shrilly92, and paused. “It cost her father his life,” he said in a low voice . . . “her mother too — but the country was in danger,” he added still lower.
Peyrol walked away to the western window and looked towards Toulon. In the middle of the great sheet of water within Cape Cicié a tall two-decker lay becalmed and the little dark dots on the water were her boats trying to tow her head round the right way. Peyrol watched them for a moment, and then walked back to the middle of the room.
“Did you actually drag him from this house to the guillotine?” he asked in his unemotional voice.
The patriot shook his head thoughtfully with downcast eyes. “No, he came over to Toulon just before the evacuation, this friend of the English . . . sailed over in a tartane he owned that is still lying here at the Madrague. He had his wife with him. They came over to take home their daughter who was living then with some skulking93 old nuns94. The victorious95 Republicans were closing in and the slaves of tyranny had to fly.”
“Came to fetch their daughter,” mused96 Peyrol. “Strange, that guilty people should. . .”
The patriot looked up fiercely. “It was justice,” he said loudly. “They were anti-revolutionists, and if they had never spoken to an Englishman in their life the atrocious crime was on their heads.”
“H'm, stayed too long for their daughter,” muttered Peyrol. “And so it was you who brought her home.”
“I did,” said the patron. For a moment his eyes evaded97 Peyrol's investigating glance, but in a moment he looked straight into his face. “No lessons of base superstition98 could corrupt her soul,” he declared with exaltation. “I brought home a patriot.”
Peyrol, very calm, gave him a hardly perceptible nod. “Well,” he said, “all this won't prevent me sleeping wery well in this room. I always thought I would like to live in a lighthouse when I got tired of roving about the seas. This is as near a lighthouse lantern as can be. You will see me with all my little affairs to-morrow,” he added, moving towards the stairs. “Salut, citoyen.”
There was in Peyrol a fund of self-command amounting to placidity99. There were men living in the East who had no doubt whatever that Peyrol was a calmly terrible man. And they would quote illustrative instances which from their own point of view were simply admirable. But all Peyrol had ever done was to behave rationally, as it seemed to him in all sorts of dangerous circumstances without ever being led astray by the nature, or the cruelty, or the danger of any given situation. He adapted himself to the character of the event and to the very spirit of it, with a profound responsive feeling of a particularly unsentimental kind. Sentiment in itself was an artificiality of which he had never heard and if he had seen it in action would have appeared to him too puzzling to make anything of. That sort of genuineness in acceptance made him a satisfactory inmate100 of the Escampobar Farm. He duly turned up with all his cargo101, as he called it, and was met at the door of the farmhouse itself by the young woman with the pale face and wandering eyes. Nothing could hold her attention for long amongst her familiar surroundings. Right and left and far away beyond you, she seemed to be looking for something while you were talking to her, so that you doubted whether she could follow what you said. But as a matter of fact she had all her wits about her. In the midst of this strange search for something that was not there she had enough detachment to smile at Peyrol. Then, withdrawing into the kitchen, she watched, as much as her restless eyes could watch anything, Peyrol's cargo and Peyrol himself passing up the stairs.
The most valuable part of Peyrol's cargo being strapped102 to his person, the first thing he did after being left alone in that attic room which was like the lantern of a lighthouse was to relieve himself of the burden and lay it on the foot of the bed. Then he sat down and leaning his elbow far on the table he contemplated104 it with a feeling of complete relief. That plunder105 had never burdened his conscience. It had merely on occasion oppressed his body; and if it had at all affected106 his spirits it was not by its secrecy107 but by its mere weight, which was inconvenient108, irritating, and towards the end of a day altogether insupportable. It made a free-limbed, deep-breathing sailor-man feel like a mere overloaded109 animal, thus extending whatever there was of compassion110 in Peyrol's nature towards the four-footed beasts that carry men's burdens on the earth. The necessities of a lawless life had taught Peyrol to be ruthless, but he had never been cruel.
Sprawling111 in the chair, stripped to the waist, robust112 and grey-haired, his head with a Roman profile propped113 up on a mighty114 and tattooed115 forearm, he remained at ease, with his eyes fixed116 on his treasure with an air of meditation117. Yet Peyrol was not meditating118 (as a superficial observer might have thought) on the best place of concealment119. It was not that he had not had a great experience of that sort of property which had always melted so quickly through his fingers. What made him meditative120 was its character, not of a share of a hard-won booty in toil121, in risk, in danger, in privation, but of a piece of luck personally his own. He knew what plunder was and how soon it went; but this lot had come to stay. He had it with him, away from the haunts of his lifetime, as if in another world altogether. It couldn't be drunk away, gambled away, squandered122 away in any sort of familiar circumstances, or even given away. In that room, raised a good many feet above his revolutionized native land where he was more of a stranger than anywhere else in the world, in this roomy garret full of light and as it were surrounded by the sea, in a great sense of peace and security, Peyrol didn't see why he should bother his head about it so very much. It came to him that he had never really cared for any plunder that fell into his hands. No, never for any. And to take particular care of this for which no one would seek vengeance123 or attempt recovery would have been absurd. Peyrol got up and opened his big sandalwood chest secured with an enormous padlock, part, too, of some old plunder gathered in a Chinese town in the Gulf124 of Tonkin, in company of certain Brothers of the Coast, who having boarded at night a Portuguese125 schooner126 and sent her crew adrift in a boat, had taken a cruise on their own account, years and years and years ago. He was young then, very young, and the chest fell to his share because nobody else would have anything to do with the cumbersome127 thing, and also for the reason that the metal of the curiously128 wrought129 thick hoops130 that strengthened it was not gold but mere brass131. He, in his innocence132, had been rather pleased with the article. He had carried it about with him into all sorts of places, and also he had left it behind him — once for a whole year in a dark and noisome133 cavern134 on a certain part of the Madagascar coast. He had left it with various native chiefs, with Arabs, with a gambling-hell keeper in Pondicherry, with his various friends in short, and even with his enemies. Once he had lost it altogether.
That was on the occasion when he had received a wound which laid him open and gushing135 like a slashed136 wine-skin. A sudden quarrel broke out in a company of Brothers over some matter of policy complicated by personal jealousies138, as to which he was as innocent as a babe unborn. He never knew who gave him the slash137. Another Brother, a chum of his, an English boy, had rushed in and hauled him out of the fray139, and then he had remembered nothing for days. Even now when he looked at the scar he could not understand why he had not died. That occurrence, with the wound and the painful convalescence140, was the first thing that sobered his character somewhat. Many years afterwards, when in consequence of his altered views of mere lawlessness he was serving as quartermaster on board the Hirondelle, a comparatively respectable privateer, he caught sight of that chest again in Port Louis, of all places in the world, in a dark little den25 of a shop kept by a lone103 Hindoo. The hour was late, the side street was empty, and so Peyrol went in there to claim his property, all fair, a dollar in one hand and a pistol in the other, and was entreated141 abjectly142 to take it away. He carried off the empty chest on his shoulder, and that same night the privateer went to sea; then only he found time to ascertain66 that he had made no mistake, because, soon after he had got it first, he had, in grim wantonness, scratched inside the lid, with the point of his knife, the rude outline of a skull143 and cross-bones into which he had rubbed afterwards a little Chinese vermilion. And there it was, the whole design, as fresh as ever.
In the garret full of light of the Escampobar farmhouse, the grey-haired Peyrol opened the chest, took all the contents out of it, laying them neatly144 on the floor, and spread his treasure — pockets downwards145 — over the bottom, which it filled exactly. Busy on his knees he repacked the chest. A jumper or two, a fine cloth jacket, a remnant piece of Madapolam muslin, costly146 stuff for which he had no use in the world — a quantity of fine white shirts. Nobody would dare to rummage147 in his chest, he thought, with the assurance of a man who had been feared in his time. Then he rose, and looking round the room and stretching his powerful arms, he ceased to think of the treasure, of the future and even of to-morrow, in the sudden conviction that he could make himself very comfortable there.
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1
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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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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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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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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jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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sedative
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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purveyor
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| n.承办商，伙食承办商 | |
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chestnut
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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careworn
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perpendicular
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ardent
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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dent
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| n.凹痕，凹坑；初步进展 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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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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corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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opposition
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lurks
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| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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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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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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49
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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50
manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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51
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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52
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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53
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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54
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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55
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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56
postured
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| 做出某种姿势( posture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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58
favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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59
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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60
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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61
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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62
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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63
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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64
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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65
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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66
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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67
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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69
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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70
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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71
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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72
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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73
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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74
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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75
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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76
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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77
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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78
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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79
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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80
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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81
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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82
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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83
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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84
expediency
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| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
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85
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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86
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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87
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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88
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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89
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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90
consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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91
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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92
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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93
skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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94
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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95
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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96
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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97
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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98
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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99
placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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100
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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101
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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102
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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103
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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104
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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105
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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106
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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107
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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108
inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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109
overloaded
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| a.超载的，超负荷的 | |
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110
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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111
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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112
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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113
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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114
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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115
tattooed
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| v.刺青，文身( tattoo的过去式和过去分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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116
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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117
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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118
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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119
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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120
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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121
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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122
squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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124
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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125
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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126
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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127
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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128
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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129
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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130
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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131
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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132
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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133
noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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134
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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135
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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136
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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137
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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138
jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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139
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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140
convalescence
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| n.病后康复期 | |
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141
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
abjectly
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| 凄惨地； 绝望地； 糟透地； 悲惨地 | |
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143
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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144
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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145
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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146
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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147
rummage
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| v./n.翻寻，仔细检查 | |
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