There was straw scattered1 on the floor, over a layer of rushes. There was an open log fire, sputtering2 and blazing in a large fireplace. There were a few chickens, strutting3 and pecking on the floor. There were seats with hand-embroidered cushions on them, and there were tapestries4 covering the windows and the doors.
Richard stumbled forward as the train lurched out of the station. He reached out, grabbed hold of the nearest person, and regained5 his balance. The nearest person happened to be a short, gray, elderly man-at-arms, who would have looked, Richard decided6, exactly like a recently retired7 minor8 official were it not for the tin hat, the surcoat, the rather clumsily knitted chain mail, and the spear; instead he looked like a recently retired minor official who had, somewhat against his will, been dragooned into his local amateur dramatic society, where he had been forced to play a man-at-arms.
The little gray man blinked shortsightedly at Richard as Richard grabbed him, and then he said, lugubriously9, "Sorry about that."
"My fault," said Richard.
"I know," said the man.
An enormous Irish wolfhound padded down the aisle10 and stopped beside a lute11 player, who sat on the floor picking at a melody in a desultory12 fashion. The wolfhound glared at Richard, snorted with disdain13, then lay down and went to sleep. At the far end of the carriage an elderly falconer, with a hooded15 falcon14 on his wrist, was exchanging pleasantries with a small knot of damsels of a certain age. Some passengers obviously stared at the four travelers; others, just as obviously, ignored them. It was, Richard realized, as if someone had taken a small medieval court and put it, as best they could, in one car of an Underground train.
A herald16 raised his bugle17 to his lips and played a tuneless blast, as an immense, elderly man, in a huge fur-lined dressing18 gown and carpet slippers19, staggered through the connecting door from the next compartment20, his arm resting on the shoulder of a jester in shabby motley. The old man was larger than life in every way: he wore an eye-patch over his left eye, which had the effect of making him look slightly helpless, and unbalanced, like a one-eyed hawk21. There were fragments of food in his red-gray beard, and what appeared to be pajama pants were visible at the bottom of his shabby fur gown. _That,_ thought Richard, correctly, _must be the earl._ The earl's jester was an elderly man with a pinched, humorless mouth and a painted face. He led the earl to a thronelike carved wooden seat in which, a trifle unsteadily, the earl sat down. The wolfhound got up, padded down the length of the carriage, and settled itself at the earl's slippered22 feet. _Earl's Court,_ thought Richard. _Of course._ And then he began to wonder whether there was a baron23 in Barons24 Court Tube station, or a Raven25 in Ravenscourt or, . . .
The little old man-at-arms coughed asthmatically and said, "Right then, you lot. State your business." Door stepped forward. She held her head up high, suddenly seeming taller and more at ease than Richard had previously26 seen her, and she said, "We seek an audience with His Grace the Earl."
The earl called down the carriage. "What did the little girl say, Halvard?" he asked. Richard wondered if he was deaf.
Halvard, the elderly man-at-arms, shuffled27 around and cupped his hand to his mouth. "They seek an audience, Your Grace," he shouted, over the rattle28 of the train.
The earl pushed aside his thick fur cap and scratched his head, meditatively29. He was balding underneath30 his cap. "They do? An audience? How splendid. Who are they, Halvard?"
Halvard turned back to them. "He wants to know who you all are. Keep it short, though. Don't go on." "I am the Lady Door," announced Door. "The Lord Portico31 was my father."
The earl brightened at this, leaned forward, peered through the smoke with his one good eye. "Did she say she was Portico's oldest girl?" he asked the jester.
"Yus, your grace."
The earl beckoned32 to Door. "Come here," he said. "Come-come-come. Let me look at you." She walked down the swaying carriage, grabbing the thick rope straps33 that hung from the ceiling as she went, to keep her balance. When she stood before the earl's wooden chair, she curtseyed. He scratched at his beard and stared at her. "We were all quite devastated34 to hear of your father's unfortunate--" said the earl, and then he interrupted himself, and said, "Well, all your family, it was a--" and he trailed off, and said, "You know I had warmest regards for him, did a bit of business together . . . good old Portico . . . full of ideas . . . " He stopped. Then he tapped the jester on the shoulder and whispered, in a querulous boom, loud enough that it could be heard easily over the noise of the train, "Go and make jokes at them, Tooley. Earn your keep."
The earl's fool staggered up the aisle with an arthritic35 step. He stopped in front of Richard. "And who might you be?" he asked.
"Me?" said Richard. "Um. Me? My name? It's Richard. Richard Mayhew."
_"Me?"_ squeaked36 the fool, in an elderly, rather theatrical37 imitation of Richard's Scottish accent. "_Me?_ Um. _Me?_ La, nuncle. Tis not a man, but a mooncalf." The courtiers sniggered, dustily.
"And I," de Carabas told the jester, with a blinding smile, "call myself the marquis de Carabas." The fool blinked.
"De Carabas the thief?" asked the jester. "De Carabas the bodysnatcher? De Carabas the traitor38?" He turned to the courtiers around them. "But this cannot be de Carabas. For why? Because de Carabas has long since been banished39 from the earl's presence. Perhaps it is instead a strange new species of _stoat,_ who grew particularly large." The courtiers tittered uneasily, and a low buzz of troubled conversation began. The earl said nothing, but his lips were pressed together tightly, and he had begun to tremble.
"I am called Hunter," said Hunter to the jester. The courtiers were silent then. The jester opened his mouth, as if he were going to say something, and then he looked at her, and he closed his mouth again. A hint of a smile played at the corner of Hunter's perfect lips. "Go on," she said. "Say something funny."
The jester stared at the trailing toes of his shoes. Then he muttered, "My hound hath no nose."
The earl, who had been staring at the marquis de Carabas with eyes like a slow-burning fuse, now exploded to his feet, a gray-bearded volcano, an elderly berserker. His head brushed the roof of the carriage. He pointed40 at the marquis and shouted, spittle flying, "I will not stand for it, I will not. Make him come forward."
Halvard waggled a gloomy spear at the marquis, who sauntered to the front of the train, until he stood beside Door in front of the earl's throne. The wolfhound growled41 in the back of its throat.
"You," said the earl, stabbing the air with a huge, knotted finger. "I know you, de Carabas. I haven't forgotten. I may be old, but I haven't forgotten."
The marquis bowed. "Might I remind Your Grace," he said urbanely42, "that we had a deal? I negotiated the peace treaty between your people and the Raven's Court. And in return you agreed to provide a little favor." So _there is a raven's court,_ thought Richard. He wondered what it was like.
"A little favor?" said the earl. He turned a deep beet43 red color. "Is that what you call it? I lost a dozen men to your foolishness in the retreat from White City. I lost an eye."
"And if you don't mind my saying so, Your Grace," said the marquis, graciously, "that is a very fetching patch. It sets off your face perfectly44."
"I swore . . . " fulminated the earl, beard bristling45, "I swore . . . that if you ever set foot in my domain46 I would . . . " he trailed off. Shook his head, confused and forgetful. Then he continued. "It'll come back to me. I do not forget."
"He might not be entirely47 pleased to see you?" whispered Door to de Carabas.
"Well, he's not," he muttered back.
Door stepped forward once more. "Your Grace," she said, loudly, clearly, "de Carabas is here with me as my guest and my companion. For the fellowship there has ever been between your family and mine, for the friendship between my father and--"
"He abused my hospitality," boomed the earl. "I swore that . . . if he ever again entered my domain I would have him gutted48 and dried . . . like, like something that had been gutted, first . . . like . . . "
"Perchance--then dried a kipper, my lord?" suggested the jester.
The earl shrugged49. "It is of no matter. Guards, seize him." And they did. While neither of the guards would ever see sixty again, each of them was holding a crossbow, pointed at the marquis, and their hands did not tremble, neither with age nor with fear. Richard looked at Hunter. She seemed untroubled by this: she was watching it almost with amusement, like someone attending the theater.
Door folded her arms and stood taller, putting her head back, raising her pointed chin. She looked less like a ragged50 street pixie; more like someone used to getting her own way. The opal eyes flashed. "Your Grace, the marquis is with me as my companion, on my quest. Our families have been friends for a long time now--"
"Yes. They have," interrupted the earl, helpfully. "Hundreds of years. Hundreds and hundreds. Knew your grandfather, too. Funny old fellow. Bit vague," he confided51.
"But I am forced to say that I will regard an act of violence against my companion as an act of aggression52 against myself and my house." The girl stared up at the old man. He towered over her. They stood for some moments, frozen. He tugged53 on his red-and-gray beard, agitatedly54, then he thrust out his lower lip like a small child. "I will not have him here," he said.
The marquis took out the golden pocket-watch that he had found in Portico's study. He examined it, carelessly. Then he turned to Door and said, as if none of the events around them had occurred. "My lady, I will obviously be of more use to you off this train than on. And I have other avenues to explore."
"No," she said. "If you go, we all go."
"I don't think so," said the marquis. "Hunter will look after you as long as you stay in London Below. I'll meet you at the next market. Don't do anything too stupid in the meantime." The train was coming into a station,
Door fixed55 the earl with her look: there was something more ancient and powerful in that glance than her young years would have seemed to allow. Richard noticed that the room fell quiet whenever she spoke56. "Will you let him go in peace, Your Grace?" she asked.
The earl ran his hands over his face, rubbed his good eye and his eye-patch, then looked back at her. "Just make him go," said the earl. He looked at the marquis. "Next time . . . " he ran a thick old finger across his Adam's apple " . . . kipper."
The marquis bowed low. "I'll see myself out," he said to the guards, and stepped toward the open door. Halvard raised his crossbow and pointed it toward the marquis's back. Hunter reached out her hand and pushed the end of the crossbow back down toward the floor. The marquis stepped onto the platform, turned and waved with an elaborate flourish. The door hissed57 closed behind him.
The earl sat down on his huge chair at the end of the car. He said nothing. The train rattled58 and lurched through the dark tunnel. "Where are my manners?" muttered the earl to himself. He looked at them with one staring eye. Then he said it again, in a desperate boom that Richard could feel in his stomach, like a bass59 drumbeat. _"Where are my manners?"_ He motioned one of the elderly men-at-arms to him. "They will be hungry after their journey, Dagvard. Thirsty, too, I shouldn't wonder."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Stop the train!" called the earl. The doors hissed open, and Dagvard scuttled60 off onto a platform. Richard watched the people on the platform. No one came into their car. No one seemed to notice that anything was at all unusual.
Dagvard walked over to a vending61 machine on the side of the platform. He took off his metal helmet. Then he rapped, with one mailed glove, on the side of the machine. "Orders from the earl," he said. "Choc'lits." A ratcheting whirr came from deep in the guts62 of the machine, and it began to spit out dozens of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut chocolate bars, one after another. Dagvard held his helmet below the opening to catch them. The doors began to close. Halvard put the handle of his pike between the doors, and they opened again and began bumping open and shut on the pike handle. _"Please stand clear of the doors,"_ said a loudspeaker voice. _"The train cannot leave until the doors are all closed."_
The earl was staring at Door lopsidedly, with his one good eye. "So. What brings you here to me?" he asked.
She licked her lips. "Well, indirectly63, Your Grace, my father's death."
He nodded, slowly. "Yes. You seek vengeance64. Quite right, too." He coughed, then recited, in a basso profundo, "_Brave the battling blade, flashes the furious fire, steel sword sheathed65 in hated heart, crimsons67 the . . . the . . . _ something. Yes."
"Vengeance?" Door thought for a moment. "Yes. That was what my father said. But I mostly just want to understand what happened, and to protect myself. My family had no enemies." Dagvard staggered back onto the train then, his helmet filled with chocolate bars and cans of Coke; the doors were permitted to close, and the train moved off once more.
Lear's coat, still on the floor of the tunnel, was covered in coins and bills, now, but it was also covered with shoes--kicking the coins, smearing69 and tearing the bills, ripping the fabric70 of the coat. Lear had begun to cry. "Please. Why won't you leave me alone?" he begged. He was backed against the wall of the passage; blood ran down his face and dripped crimson66 into his beard. His saxophone hung limply, awkwardly, on his chest, dented71 and scraped.
He was surrounded by a small crowd of people--more than twenty, less than fifty--every one of them shoving and pushing, in a mindless mob, their eyes blank and staring, each man and woman desperately72 fighting and clawing in order to give Lear their money. There was blood on the tiled wall, where Lear had knocked his head. Lear flailed73 out at one aged75" target="_blank">middle-aged74 woman, her purse wide open, a fistful of five-pound notes thrust out at him. She clawed at his face in her eagerness to give him her money. He twisted to avoid her fingernails and fell to the tunnel floor.
Someone stepped on his hand. His face was pushed into a slurry of coins. He began to sob76, and to curse. "I told you not to overuse that tune," said an elegant voice, nearby. "Naughty."
"Help me," gasped77 Lear.
"Well, there _is_ a counter-charm," admitted the voice, almost reluctantly.
The crowd was pressing closer now. A flung fifty-pence coin opened Lear's cheek. He curled into a fetal ball, hugging himself, burying his face in his knees. "Play it, damn you," sobbed78 Lear. "Whatever you want . . . just make them stop . . . "
A pennywhistle piping began softly, and echoed down the passage. A simple phrase, repeated over and over, slightly different every time: the de Carabas variations. The footsteps were moving away. Shuffling79, at first, then picking up pace: moving away from him. Lear opened his eyes. The marquis de Carabas was leaning against the wall, playing the pennywhistle. When he saw Lear looking at him he took the whistle from his lips and replaced it in an inside pocket of his coat. He tossed Lear a lace-edged handkerchief of patched linen80. Lear wiped the blood from his forehead and face. "They would have killed me," he said, accusingly.
"I _did_ warn you," said de Carabas. "Just count yourself lucky that I was coming back this way." He helped Lear into a sitting position. "Now," he said. "I think you owe me another favor."
Lear picked up his coat--torn and muddy and imprinted81 with the marks of many feet--from the passage floor. He suddenly felt very cold, and he wrapped the shredded82 coat around his shoulders. Coins fell, and bills fluttered to the floor. He let them lie. "Was I really lucky? Or did you set me up?"
The marquis looked almost offended. "I don't know how you could even bring yourself to think such a thing."
'"Cos I know you. That's how. So what is it that you want me to do this time? Theft? Arson83?" Lear sounded resigned, and a little sad. And then, "Murder?"
De Carabas reached down and took back his handkerchief. "Theft, I'm afraid. You were right the first time," he said, with a smile. "I find myself in rather urgent need of a piece of T'ang dynasty sculpture." Lear shivered. Then, slowly, he nodded.
Richard was handed a bar of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut chocolate and a large silver goblet84, ornamented85 around the rim68 with what appeared to Richard to be sapphires86. The goblet was filled with Coca-Cola. The jester, whose name seemed to be Tooley, cleared his throat loudly. "I would like to propose a toast to our guests," he said. "A child, a bravo, a fool. May they each get what they deserve."
"Which one am I?" whispered Richard to Hunter.
"The fool, of course," she said.
"In the old days," said Halvard dismally87, after sipping88 his Coke, "we had wine. I prefer wine. It's not as sticky."
"Do all the machines just give you things like that?" asked Richard.
"Oh yes," said the old man. "They listen to the earl, y'see. He rules the Underground. The bit with the trains. He's lord of the Central, the Circle, the Jubilee89, the Victorious90, the Bakerloo--well, all of them except the Underside Line."
"What's the Underside Line?" asked Richard. Halvard shook his head and pursed his lips. Hunter brushed Richard's shoulder with her fingers. "Remember what I told you about the shepherds of Shepherd's Bush?"
"You said I didn't want to meet them, and there were some things I was probably better off not knowing."
"Good," she said, "So now you can add the Underside Line to the list of those things."
Door came back down the carriage toward them. She was smiling. "The earl's agreed to help us," she said. "Come on. He's meeting us in the library." Richard began to follow, as he realized that the question What library? had not risen to his lips. The longer he was here, the more he took at face value. Instead, he followed Door toward the earl's empty throne, and round the back of it, and through the connecting door behind it, and into the library. It was a huge stone room, with a high wooden ceiling. Each wall was covered with shelves. Each shelf was laden91 with objects: there were books, yes. But the shelves were filled with a host of other things: tennis rackets, hockey sticks, umbrellas, a spade, a notebook computer, a wooden leg, several mugs, dozens of shoes, pairs of binoculars92, a small log, six glove puppets, a lava93 lamp, various CDs, records (LPs, 45s, and 78s), cassette tapes and eight-tracks, dice94, toy cars, assorted95 pairs of dentures, watches, flashlights, four garden gnomes96 of assorted sizes (two fishing, one of them mooning, the last smoking a cigar), piles of newspapers, magazines, grimoires, three-legged stools, a box of cigars, a plastic nodding-head Alsatian, socks . . . the room was a tiny empire of lost property.
"This is his real domain," muttered Hunter. "Things lost. Things forgotten."
There were windows set in the stone wall. Through them, Richard could see the rattling97 darkness and the passing lights of the Underground tunnels. The earl was sitting on the floor with his legs splayed, patting the wolfhound and scratching it underneath the chin. The jester stood beside him, looking embarrassed. The earl clambered to his feet when he saw them. His forehead creased98. "Ah. There you are. Now, there was a reason I asked you here, it'll come to me . . . " He tugged at his red-gray beard, a tiny gesture from such a huge man.
"The Angel Islington, Your Grace," said Door politely.
"Oh yes. Your father had a lot of ideas for changes, you know. Asked me about them. I don't trust change. I sent him to Islington." He stopped. Blinked his one eye. "Did I tell you this already?"
"Yes, Your Grace. And how can _we_ get to Islington?"
The earl nodded as if Door had said something profound. "Only once by the quick way. After that you have to go the long way down. Dangerous."
Door said, patiently, "And the quick way is . . . ?"
"No, no. Need to be an opener to use it. Only good for Portico's family." He rested a huge hand on her shoulder. Then his hand slid up to her cheek. "Better off staying here with me. Keep an old man warm at night, eh?" He leered at her and touched her tangle99 of hair with his old fingers. Hunter took a step toward Door. Door gestured with her hand: No. _Not yet._
Door looked up at the earl, and said, "Your Grace, I _am_ Portico's oldest daughter. How do I get to the Angel Islington?" Richard found himself amazed that Door was able to keep her temper in the face of the earl's losing battle with temporal drift.
The earl winked100 his single eye in a solemn blink: an old hawk, his head tipped on one side. Then he took his hand from her hair. "So you are. So you are. Portico's daughter. How is your dear father? Keeping well, I hope? Fine man. Good man."
"How do we get to the Angel Islington?" said Door, but now there was a tremble in her voice.
"Hmm? Use the Angelus, of course."
Richard found himself imagining the earl sixty, eighty, five hundred years ago: a mighty101 warrior102, a cunning strategist, a great lover of women, a fine friend, a terrifying foe103. There was still the wreckage104 of that man in there somewhere. That was what made him so terrible, and so sad. The earl fumbled105 on the shelves, moving pens and pipes and peashooters, little gargoyles106 and dead leaves. Then, like an aged cat stumbling on a mouse, he seized a small, rolled-up scroll107, and handed it to the girl. "Here y'go, lassie," said the earl. "All in here. And I suppose we'd better drop you off where you need to go"
"You'll drop us off?" asked Richard. "In a train?"
The earl looked around for the source of the sound, focused on Richard, and smiled enormously. "Oh, think nothing of it," he boomed. "Anything for Portico's daughter." Door clutched the scroll tightly, triumphantly108.
Richard could feel the train beginning to slow, and he, and Door, and Hunter were led out of the stone room and back into the car. Richard peered out at the platform, as they slowed down.
"Excuse me. What station is this?" he asked. The train had stopped, facing one of the station signs: BRITISH MUSEUM, it said. Somehow, this was one oddity too many. He could accept "Mind the Gap" and the Earl's Court, and even the strange library. But damn it, like all Londoners, he knew his Tube map, and this was going too far. "There isn't a British Museum Station," said Richard, firmly.
"There isn't?" boomed the earl. "Then, mm, then you must be very careful as you get off the train." And he guffawed109, delightedly, and tapped his jester on the shoulder. "Hear that, Tooley? I am as funny as you are."
The jester smiled as bleak110 a smile as ever was seen. "My sides are splitting, my ribs111 are cracking, and my mirth is positively112 uncontainable, Your Grace," he said.
The doors hissed open. Door smiled up at the earl. "Thank you," she said. "Off, off," said the vast old man, shooing Door and Richard and Hunter out of the warm, smoky carriage onto the empty platform. And then the doors closed, and the train moved away, and Richard found himself staring at a sign which, no matter how many times he blinked--nor even if he looked away from it and looked back suddenly to take it by surprise--still obstinately persisted in saying:
BRITISH MUSEUM
收听单词发音 |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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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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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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lugubriously
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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falcon
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| n.隼，猎鹰 | |
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hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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slippered
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| 穿拖鞋的 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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barons
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| 男爵( baron的名词复数 )； 巨头； 大王； 大亨 | |
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raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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34
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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35
arthritic
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| adj.关节炎的 | |
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36
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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37
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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38
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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39
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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41
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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42
urbanely
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| adv.都市化地，彬彬有礼地，温文尔雅地 | |
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43
beet
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| n.甜菜；甜菜根 | |
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44
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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45
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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46
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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47
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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48
gutted
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| adj.容易消化的v.毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的过去式和过去分词 )；取出…的内脏 | |
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49
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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50
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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51
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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52
aggression
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| n.进攻，侵略，侵犯，侵害 | |
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53
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
agitatedly
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| 动摇，兴奋； 勃然 | |
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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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56
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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57
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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58
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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59
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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60
scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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61
vending
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| v.出售（尤指土地等财产）( vend的现在分词 )；（尤指在公共场所）贩卖；发表（意见，言论）；声明 | |
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62
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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63
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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64
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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65
sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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66
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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67
crimsons
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| 变为深红色（crimson的第三人称单数形式） | |
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68
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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69
smearing
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| 污点，拖尾效应 | |
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70
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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71
dented
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| v.使产生凹痕( dent的过去式和过去分词 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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73
flailed
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| v.鞭打( flail的过去式和过去分词 )；用连枷脱粒；（臂或腿）无法控制地乱动；扫雷坦克 | |
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74
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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75
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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76
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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77
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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78
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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79
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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80
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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81
imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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82
shredded
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| shred的过去式和过去分词 | |
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83
arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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84
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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85
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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87
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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88
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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89
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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90
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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91
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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92
binoculars
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| n.双筒望远镜 | |
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93
lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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94
dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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95
assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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96
gnomes
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| n.矮子( gnome的名词复数 )；侏儒；（尤指金融市场上搞投机的）银行家；守护神 | |
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97
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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98
creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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99
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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100
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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101
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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102
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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103
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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104
wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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105
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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106
gargoyles
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| n.怪兽状滴水嘴( gargoyle的名词复数 ) | |
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107
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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108
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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109
guffawed
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| v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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111
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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112
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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