Peyrol did not take his eyes off Catherine's straight back till the door had closed after her. Only then he relieved himself by letting the air escape through his pursed lips and rolling his eyes freely about. He picked up the lamp by the ring on the top of the central rod and went into the salle, closing behind him the door of the dark kitchen. He stood the lamp on the very table on which Lieutenant5 Réal had had his midday meal. A small white cloth was still spread on it and there was his chair askew6 as he had pushed it back when he got up. Another of the many chairs in the salle was turned round conspicuously7 to face the table. These things made Peyrol remark to himself bitterly: “She sat and stared at him as if he had been gilt8 all over, with three heads and seven arms on his body” — a comparison reminiscent of certain idols9 he had seen in an Indian temple. Though not an iconoclast10, Peyrol felt positively11 sick at the recollection, and hastened to step outside. The great cloud had broken up and the mighty12 fragments were moving to the westward13 in stately flight before the rising moon. Scevola, who had been lying extended full length on the bench, swung himself up suddenly, very upright.
“Had a little nap in the open?” asked Peyrol, letting his eyes roam through the luminous14 space under the departing rearguard of the clouds jostling each other up there.
“I did not sleep,” said the sans-culotte. “I haven't closed my eyes-not for one moment.”
“That must be because you weren't sleepy,” suggested the deliberate Peyrol, whose thoughts were far away with the English ship. His mental eye contemplated15 her black image against the white beach of the Salins describing a sparkling curve under the moon, and meantime he went on slowly: “For it could not have been noise that kept you awake.” On the level of Escampobar the shadows lay long on the ground while the side of the lookout16 hill remained yet black but edged with an increasing brightness. And the amenity17 of the stillness was such that if softened18 for a moment Peyrol's hard inward attitude towards all mankind, including even the captain of the English ship. The old rover savoured a moment of serenity19 in the midst of his cares.
“This is an accursed spot,” declared Scevola suddenly.
Peyrol, without turning his head, looked at him sideways. Though he had sprung up from his reclining posture20 smartly enough, the citizen had gone slack all over and was sitting all in a heap. His shoulders were hunched21 up, his hands reposed22 on his knees. With his staring eyes he resembled a sick child in the moonlight.
“It's the very spot for hatching treacheries. One feels steeped in them up to the neck.”
He shuddered23 and yawned a long irresistible24 nervous yawn with the gleam of unexpected long canines25 in a retracted26, gaping27 mouth giving away the restless panther lurking28 in the man.
“Oh, yes, there's treachery about right enough. You couldn't conceive that, citoyen?”
“Of course I couldn't,” assented29 Peyrol with serene30 contempt. “What is this treachery that you are concocting31?” he added carelessly, in a social way, while enjoying the charm of a moonlit evening. Scevola, who did not expect that turn, managed, however, to produce a rattling32 sort of laugh almost at once.
“That's a good one. Ha! ha! ha! . . . Me! . . . concocting! . . . Why me?”
“Well,” said Peyrol carelessly, “there are not many of us to carry out treacheries about here. The women are gone upstairs; Michel is down at the tartane. There's me, and you would not dare suspect me of treachery. Well, there remains33 only you.”
Scevola roused himself. “This is not much of a jest,” he said. “I have been a treason-hunter. I. . .”
He checked that strain. He was full of purely34 emotional suspicions. Peyrol was talking like this only to annoy him and to get him out of the way; but in the particular state of his feelings Scevola was acutely aware of every syllable35 of these offensive remarks. “Aha,” he thought to himself, “he doesn't mention the lieutenant.” This omission36 seemed to the patriot37 of immense importance. If Peyrol had not mentioned the lieutenant it was because those two had been plotting some treachery together, all the afternoon on board that tartane. That's why nothing had been seen of them for the best part of the day. As a matter of fact, Scevola too had observed Peyrol returning to the farm in the evening, only he had observed him from another window than Arlette. This was a few minutes before his attempt to open the lieutenant's door, in order to find out whether Réal was in his room. He had tiptoed away, uncertain, and going into the kitchen had found only Catherine and Peyrol there. Directly Arlette joined them a sudden inspiration made him run upstairs and try the door again. It was open now! A clear proof that it was Arlette who had been locked up in there. The discovery that she made herself at home like this in the lieutenant's room gave Scevola such a sickening shock that he thought he would die of it. It was beyond doubt now that the lieutenant had been conspiring39 with Peyrol down on board that tartane; for what else could they have been doing there? “But why had not Réal come up in the evening with Peyrol?” Scevola asked himself, sitting on the bench with his hands clasped between his knees. . . . It's their cunning,” he concluded suddenly. “Conspirators always avoid being seen together. Ha!”
It was as if somebody had let off a lot of fireworks in his brain. He was illuminated40, dazzled, confused, with a hissing41 in his cars and showers of sparks before alone. Peyrol had vanished. Scevola seemed to remember that he had heard somebody pronounce the word “good-night” and the door of the salle slam. And sure enough the door of the salle was shut now. A dim light shone in the window that was next to it. Peyrol had extinguished three of the lamp flames and was now reclining on one of the long tables with that faculty42 of accommodating himself to a plank43 an old sea-dog never loses. He had decided44 to remain below simply to be handy, and he didn't lie down on one of the benches along the wall because they were too narrow. He left one wick burning, so that the lieutenant should know where to look for him, and he was tired enough to think that he would snatch a couple of hours' sleep before Réal could return from Toulon. He settled himself with one arm under his head as if he were on the deck of a privateer, and it never occurred to him that Scevola was looking through the panes45; but they were so small and dusty that the patriot could see nothing. His movement had been purely instinctive46. He wasn't even aware that he had looked in. He went away from there, walked to the end of the building, spun47 round and walked back again to the other end; and it was as if he had been afraid of going beyond the wall against which he reeled sometimes. “Conspiracy48, conspiracy,” he thought. He was now absolutely certain that the lieutenant was still hiding in that tartane, and was only waiting till all was quiet to sneak49 back to his room in which Scevola had proof positive that Arlette was in the habit of making herself at home. To rob him of his right to Arlette was part of the conspiracy no doubt.
“Have I been a slave to those two women, have I waited all those years, only to see that corrupt50 creature go off infamously51 with a ci-devant, with a conspiring aristocrat52?”
He became giddy with virtuous53 fury. There was enough evidence there for any revolutionary tribunal to cut all their heads off. Tribunal! There was no tribunal! No revolutionary justice! No patriots54! He hit his shoulder against the wall in his distress55 with such force that he rebounded56. This world was no place for patriots.
“If I had betrayed myself in the kitchen they would have murdered me in there.”
As it was he thought that he had said too much. Too much. “Prudence! Caution!” he repeated to himself, gesticulating with both arms. Suddenly he stumbled and there was an amazing metallic57 clatter58 made by something that fell at his feet.
“They are trying to kill me now,” he thought, shaking with fright. He gave himself up for dead. Profound silence reigned59 all round. Nothing more happened. He stooped fearfully to look and recognized his own stable fork lying on the ground. He remembered he had left it at noon leaning against the wall. His own foot had made it fall. He threw himself upon it greedily. “Here's what I need,” he muttered feverishly60. “I suppose that by now the lieutenant would think I am gone to bed.”
He flattened61 himself upright against the wall with the fork held along his body like a grounded musket62. The moon clearing the hill-top flooded suddenly the front of the house with its cold light, but he didn't know it; he imagined himself still to be ambushed63 in the shadow and remained motionless, glaring at the path leading towards the cove38. His teeth chattered64 with savage3 impatience65.
He was so plainly visible in his death-like rigidity66 that Michel, coming up out of the ravine, stopped dead short, believing him an apparition67 not belonging to this earth. Scevola, on his side, noticed the moving shadow cast by a man — that man! — and charged forward without reflection, the prongs of the fork lowered like a bayonet. He didn't shout. He came straight on, growling68 like a dog, and lunged headlong with his weapon.
Michel, a primitive69, untroubled by anything so uncertain as intelligence, executed an instantaneous sideways leap with the precision of a wild animal; but he was enough of a man to become afterwards paralyzed with astonishment70. The impetus71 of the rush carried Scevola several yards down the hill, before he could turn round and assume an offensive attitude. Then the two adversaries72 recognized each other. The terrorist exclaimed: “Michel?” and Michel hastened to pick up a large stone from the ground.
“Hey, you, Scevola,” he cried, not very loud but very threatening. “What are these tricks? . . . Keep away, or I will heave that piece of rock at your head, and I am good at that.”
Scevola grounded the fork with a thud. “I didn't recognize you,” he said.
“That's a story. Who did you think I was? Not the other! I haven't got a bandaged head, have I?”
Scevola began to scramble73 up. “What's this?” he asked. “What head, did you say?”
“I say that if you come near I will knock you over with that stone,” answered Michel. “You aren't to be trusted when the moon is full. Not recognize! There's a silly excuse for flying at people like this. You haven't got anything against me, have you?”
“No,” said the ex-terrorist in a dubious74 tone and keeping a watchful75 eye on Michel, who was still holding the stone in his hand.
“People have been saying for years that you are a kind of lunatic,” Michel criticized fearlessly, because the other's discomfiture76 was evident enough to put heart into the timid hare. “If a fellow cannot come up now to get a snooze in the shed without being run at with a fork, well. . .”
“I was only going to put this fork away,” Scevola burst out volubly. “I had left it leaning against the wall, and as I. was passing along I suddenly saw it, so I thought I would put it in the stable before I went to bed. That's all.”
Michel's mouth fell open a bit.
“Now what do you think I would want with a stable fork at this time of night, if it wasn't to put it away?” argued Scevola.
“What indeed!” mumbled77 Michel, who began to doubt the evidence of his senses.
“You go about mooning like a fool and imagine a lot of silly things, you great, stupid imbecile. All I wanted to do was to ask whether everything was all right down there, and you, idiot, bound to one side like a goat and pick up a stone. The moon has affected78 your head, not mine. Now drop it.”
Michel, accustomed to do what he was told, opened his fingers slowly, not quite convinced but thinking there might be something in it. Scevola, perceiving his advantage, scolded on:
“You are dangerous. You ought to have your feet and hands tied every full moon. What did you say about a head just now? What head?”
“I said that I didn't have a broken head.”
“Was that all?” said Scevola. He was asking himself what on earth could have happened down there during the afternoon to cause a broken head. Clearly, it must have been either a fight or an accident, but in any case he considered that it was for him a favourable79 circumstance, for obviously a man with a bandaged head is at a disadvantage. He was inclined to think it must have been some silly accident, and he regretted profoundly that the lieutenant had not killed himself outright80. He turned sourly to Michel.
“Now you may go into the shed. And don't try any of your tricks with me any more, because next time you pick up a stone I will shoot you like a dog.”
He began to move towards the yard gate which stood always open, throwing over his shoulder an order to Michel: “Go into the salle. Somebody has left a light in there. They all seem to have gone crazy to-day. Take the lamp into the kitchen and put it out and see that the door into the yard is shut. I am going to bed.” He passed through the gateway81, but he did not penetrate82 into the yard very far. He stopped to watch Michel obeying the order. Scevola, advancing his head cautiously beyond the pillar of the gate, waited till he had seen Michel open the door of the salle and then bounded out again across the level space and down the ravine path. It was a matter of less than a minute. His fork was still on his shoulder. His only desire was not to be interfered83 with, and for the rest he did not care what they all did, what they would think and how they would behave. The fixed84 idea had taken complete possession of him. He had no plan, but he had a principle on which to act; and that was to get at the lieutenant unawares, and if the fellow died without knowing what hand had struck him, so much the better. Scevola was going to act in the cause of virtue85 and justice. It was not to be a matter of personal contest at all. Meantime, Michel, having gone into the salle, had discovered Peyrol fast asleep on a table. Though his reverence86 for Peyrol was unbounded, his simplicity87 was such that he shook his master by the shoulder as he would have done any common mortal. The rover passed from a state of inertia88 into a sitting posture so quickly that Michel stepped back a pace and waited to be addressed. But as Peyrol only stared at him, Michel took the initiative in a concise89 phrase:
“He's at it!”
Peyrol did not seem completely awake: “What is it you mean?” he asked.
“He is making motions to escape.”
Peyrol was wide awake now. He even swung his feet off the table.
“Is he? Haven't you locked the cabin door?”
Michel, very frightened, explained that he had never been told to do that.
“No?” remarked Peyrol placidly90. “I must have forgotten.” But Michel remained agitated91 and murmured: “He is escaping.”
“That's all right,” said Peyrol. “What are you fussing about? How far can he escape, do you think?”
A slow grin appeared on Michel's face. “If he tries to scramble over the top of the rocks, he will get a broken neck in a very short time,” he said. “And he certainly won't get very far, that's a fact.”
“Well — you see,” said Peyrol.
“And he doesn't seem strong either. He crawled out of the cabin door and got as far as the little water cask and he dipped and dipped into it. It must be half empty by now. After that he got on to his legs. I cleared out ashore92 directly I heard him move,” he went on in a tone of intense self-approval. “I hid myself behind a rock and watched him.;;
“Quite right,” observed Peyrol. After that word of commendation, Michel's face wore a constant grin.
“He sat on the after-deck,” he went on as if relating an immense joke, “with his feet dangling93 down the hold, and may the devil take me if I don't think he had a nap with his back against the cask. He was nodding and catching94 himself up, with that big white head of his. Well, I got tired of watching that, and as you told me to keep out of his way, I thought I would come up here and sleep in the shed. That was right, wasn't it?”
“Quite right,” repeated Peyrol. “Well, you go now into the shed. And so you left him sitting on the after-deck?”
“Yes,” said Michel. “But he was rousing himself. I hadn't got away more than ten yards when I heard an awful thump95 on board. I think he tried to get up and fell down the hold.”
“Fell down the hold?” repeated Peyrol sharply.
“Yes, notre ma?tre. I thought at first I would go back and see, but you had warned me against him, hadn't you? And I really think that nothing can kill him.”
Peyrol got down from the table with an air of concern which would have astonished Michel, if he had not been utterly96 incapable97 of observing things.
“This must be seen to,” murmured the rover, buttoning the waistband of his trousers. “My cudgel there, in the corner. Now you go to the shed. What the devil are you doing at the door? Don't you know the way to the shed?” This last observation was caused by Michel remaining in the doorway98 of the salle with his head out and looking to right and left along the front of the house. “What's come to you? You don't suppose he has been able to follow you so quick as this up here?”
“Oh no, notre ma?tre, quite impossible. I saw that sacré Scevola promenading99 up and down here. I don't want to meet him again.”
“Was he promenading outside?” asked Peyrol, with annoyance100. “Well, what do you think he can do to you? What notions have you got in your silly head? You are getting worse and worse. Out you go.”
Peyrol extinguished the lamp and, going out, closed the door without the slightest noise. The intelligence about Scevola being on the move did not please him very much, but he reflected that probably the sans-culotte had fallen asleep again and after waking up was on his way to bed when Michel caught sight of him. He had his own view of the patriot's psychology101 and did not think the women were in any danger. Nevertheless he went to the shed and heard the rustling102 of straw as Michel settled himself for the night.
“Debout,” he cried low. “Sh, don't make any noise. I want you to go into the house and sleep at the bottom of the stairs. If you hear voices, go up, and if you see Scevola about, knock him down. You aren't afraid of him, are you?”
“No, if you tell me not to be,” said Michel, who, picking up his shoes, a present from Peyrol, walked barefoot towards the house. The rover watched him slipping noiselessly through the salle door. Having thus, so to speak, guarded his base, Peyrol proceeded down the ravine with a very deliberate caution. When he got as far as the little hollow in the ground from which the mastheads of the tartane could be seen, he squatted103 and waited. He didn't know what his prisoner had done or was doing and he did not want to blunder into the way of his escape. The day-old moon was high enough to have shortened the shadows almost to nothing and all the rocks were inundated104 by a yellow sheen, while the bushes by contrast looked very black. Peyrol reflected that he was not very well concealed105. The continued silence impressed him in the end. “He has got away,” he thought. Yet he was not sure. Nobody could be sure. He reckoned it was about an hour since Michel had left the tartane; time enough for a man, even on all fours, to crawl down to the shore of the cove. Peyrol wished he had not hit so hard. His object could have been attained106 with half the force. On the other hand all the proceedings107 of his prisoner, as reported by Michel, seemed quite rational. Naturally the fellow was badly shaken. Peyrol felt as though he wanted to go on board and give him some encouragement, and even active assistance.
The report of a gun from seaward cut his breath short as he lay there meditating108. Within a minute there was a second report, sending another wave of deep sound among the crags and hills of the peninsula. The ensuing silence was so profound that it seemed to extend to the very inside of Peyrol's head, and lull109 all his thoughts for a moment. But he had understood. He said to himself that after this his prisoner, if he had life enough left in him to stir a limb, would rather die than not try to make his way to the seashore. The ship was calling to her man.
In fact those two guns had proceeded from the Amelia. After passing beyond Cape4 Esterel, Captain Vincent dropped an anchor under foot off the beach just as Peyrol had surmised110 he would do. From about six o'clock till nine the Amelia lay there with her unfurled sails hanging in the gear. Just before the moon rose the captain came up on deck and after a short conference with his first lieutenant, directed the master to get the ship under way and put her head again for the Petite Passe. Then he went below, and presently word was passed on deck that the captain wanted Mr. Bolt. When the master's mate appeared in his cabin, Captain Vincent motioned him to a chair.
“I don't think I ought to have listened to you,” he said. “Still, the idea was fascinating, but how it would strike other people it is hard to say. The losing of our man is the worst feature. I have an idea that we might recover him. He may have been captured by the peasants or have met with an accident. It's unbearable111 to think of him lying at the foot of some rock with a broken leg. I have ordered the first and second cutters to be manned, and I propose that you should take command of them, enter the cove and, if necessary, advance a little inland to investigate. As far as we know there have never been any troops on that peninsula. The first thing you will do is to examine the coast.”
He talked for some time, giving more minute instructions, and then went on deck. The Amelia, with the two cutters towing alongside, reached about half-way down the Passe and then the boats were ordered to proceed. just before they shoved off, two guns were fired in quick succession.
“Like this, Bolt,” explained Captain Vincent, “Symons will guess that we are looking for him; and if he is hiding anywhere near the shore he will be sure to come down where he can be seen by you.”
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1
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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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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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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iconoclast
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| n.反对崇拜偶像者 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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amenity
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| n.pl.生活福利设施，文娱康乐场所；（不可数）愉快，适意 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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canines
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| n.犬齿( canine的名词复数 )；犬牙；犬科动物 | |
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retracted
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| v.撤回或撤消( retract的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝执行或遵守；缩回；拉回 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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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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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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concocting
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的现在分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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purely
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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conspiring
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| 密谋( conspire的现在分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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42
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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43
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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45
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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46
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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47
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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48
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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49
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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50
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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51
infamously
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| 不名誉地 | |
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52
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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53
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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54
patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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55
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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56
rebounded
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| 弹回( rebound的过去式和过去分词 )； 反弹； 产生反作用； 未能奏效 | |
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57
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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58
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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59
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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60
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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61
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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62
musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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63
ambushed
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| v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 )；埋伏着 | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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rigidity
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| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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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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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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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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85
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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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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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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88
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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89
concise
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| adj.简洁的，简明的 | |
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90
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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93
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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94
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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95
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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96
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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97
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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98
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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99
promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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100
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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101
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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102
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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103
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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104
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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105
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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106
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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107
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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108
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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109
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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110
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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111
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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