From Lazarus and the Gentleman from San Francisco. Published by The Stratford Company. By permission of the publishers.
I
When Lazarus left the grave, where, for three days and three nights he had been under the enigmatical sway of death, and returned alive to his dwelling1, for a long time no one noticed in him those sinister2 oddities, which, as time went on, made his very name a terror. Gladdened unspeakably by the sight of him who had been returned to life, those near to him caressed3 him unceasingly, and satiated their burning desire to serve him, in solicitude5 for his food and drink and garments. And they dressed him gorgeously, in bright colors of hope and laughter, and when, like to a bridegroom in his bridal vestures, he sat again among them at the table, and again ate and drank, they wept, overwhelmed with tenderness. And they summoned the neighbors to look at him who had risen miraculously6 from the dead. These came and shared the serene8 joy of the hosts. Strangers from far-off towns and hamlets came and adored the miracle in tempestuous9 words. Like to a beehive was the house of Mary and Martha.
Whatever was found new in Lazarus' face and gestures was thought to be some trace of a grave illness and of the shocks recently experienced. Evidently, the destruction wrought10 by death on the corpse11 was only arrested by the miraculous7 power, but its effects were still apparent; and what death had succeeded in doing with Lazarus' face and body, was like an artist's unfinished sketch12 seen under thin glass. On Lazarus' temples, under his eyes, and in the hollows of his cheeks, lay a deep and cadaverous blueness; cadaverously blue also were his long fingers, and around his fingernails, grown long in the grave, the blue had become purple and dark. On his lips the skin, swollen13 in the grave, had burst in places, and thin, reddish cracks were formed, shining as though covered with transparent14 mica15. And he had grown stout16. His body, puffed17 up in the grave, retained its monstrous18 size and showed those frightful19 swellings, in which one sensed the presence of the rank liquid of decomposition20. But the heavy corpse-like odor which penetrated21 Lazarus' graveclothes and, it seemed, his very body, soon entirely22 disappeared, the blue spots on his face and hands grew paler, and the reddish cracks closed up, although they never disappeared altogether. That is how Lazarus looked when he appeared before people, in his second life, but his face looked natural to those who had seen him in the coffin23.
In addition to the changes in his appearance, Lazarus' temper seemed to have undergone a transformation24, but this circumstance startled no one and attracted no attention. Before his death Lazarus had always been cheerful and carefree, fond of laughter and a merry joke. It was because of this brightness and cheerfulness, with not a touch of malice25 and darkness, that the Master had grown so fond of him. But now Lazarus had grown grave and taciturn, he never jested, himself, nor responded with laughter to other people's jokes; and the words which he uttered, very infrequently, were the plainest, most ordinary, and necessary words, as deprived of depth and significance, as those sounds with which animals express pain and pleasure, thirst and hunger. They were the words that one can say all one's life, and yet they give no indication of what pains and gladdens the depths of the soul.
Thus, with the face of a corpse which for three days had been under the heavy sway of death, dark and taciturn, already appallingly27 transformed, but still unrecognized by anyone in his new self, he was sitting at the feasting table, among friends and relatives, and his gorgeous nuptial28 garments glittered with yellow gold and bloody29 scarlet30. Broad waves of jubilation31, now soft, now tempestuously32 sonorous33 surged around him; warm glances of love were reaching out for his face, still cold with the coldness of the grave; and a friend's warm palm caressed his blue, heavy hand. And music played the tympanum and the pipe, the cithara and the harp34. It was as though bees hummed, grasshoppers35 chirped36 and birds warbled over the happy house of Mary and Martha.
II
One of the guests incautiously lifted the veil. By a thoughtless word he broke the serene charm and uncovered the truth in all its naked ugliness. Ere the thought formed itself in his mind, his lips uttered with a smile:
"Why dost thou not tell us what happened yonder?"
And all grew silent, startled by the question. It was as if it occurred to them only now that for three days Lazarus had been dead, and they looked at him, anxiously awaiting his answer. But Lazarus kept silence.
"Thou dost not wish to tell us,"—wondered the man, "is it so terrible yonder?"
And again his thought came after his words. Had it been otherwise, he would not have asked this question, which at that very moment oppressed his heart with its insufferable horror. Uneasiness seized all present, and with a feeling of heavy weariness they awaited Lazarus' words, but he was silent, sternly and coldly, and his eyes were lowered. And as if for the first time, they noticed the frightful blueness of his face and his repulsive37 obesity38. On the table, as though forgotten by Lazarus, rested his bluish-purple wrist, and to this all eyes turned, as if it were from it that the awaited answer was to come. The musicians were still playing, but now the silence reached them too, and even as water extinguishes scattered39 embers, so were their merry tunes40 extinguished in the silence. The pipe grew silent; the voices of the sonorous tympanum and the murmuring harp died away; and as if the strings42 had burst, the cithara answered with a tremulous, broken note. Silence.
"Thou dost not wish to say?" repeated the guest, unable to check his chattering43 tongue. But the stillness remained unbroken, and the bluish-purple hand rested motionless. And then he stirred slightly and everyone felt relieved. He lifted up his eyes, and lo! straightway embracing everything in one heavy glance, fraught44 with weariness and horror, he looked at them,—Lazarus who had arisen from the dead.
It was the third day since Lazarus had left the grave. Ever since then many had experienced the pernicious power of his eye, but neither those who were crushed by it forever, nor those who found the strength to resist in it the primordial45 sources of life,—which is as mysterious as death,—never could they explain the horror which lay motionless in the depth of his black pupils. Lazarus looked calmly and simply with no desire to conceal46 anything, but also with no intention to say anything; he looked coldly, as he who is infinitely47 indifferent to those alive. Many carefree people came close to him without noticing him, and only later did they learn with astonishment48 and fear who that calm stout man was, that walked slowly by, almost touching49 them with his gorgeous and dazzling garments. The sun did not cease shining, when he was looking, nor did the fountain hush50 its murmur41, and the sky overhead remained cloudless and blue. But the man under the spell of his enigmatical look heard no more the fountain and saw not the sky overhead. Sometimes, he wept bitterly, sometimes he tore his hair and in frenzy51 called for help; but more often it came to pass that apathetically52 and quietly he began to die, and so he languished53 many years, before everybody's very eyes, wasted away, colorless, flabby, dull, like a tree, silently drying up in a stony54 soil. And of those who gazed at him, the ones who wept madly, sometimes felt again the stir of life; the others never.
"So thou dost not wish to tell us what thou hast seen yonder?" repeated the man. But now his voice was impassive and dull, and deadly gray weariness showed in Lazarus' eyes. And deadly gray weariness covered like dust all the faces, and with dull amazement55 the guests stared at each other and did not understand wherefore they had gathered here and sat at the rich table. The talk ceased. They thought it was time to go home, but could not overcome the flaccid lazy weariness which glued their muscles, and they kept on sitting there, yet apart and torn away from each other, like pale fires scattered over a dark field.
But the musicians were paid to play and again they took their instruments and again tunes full of studied mirth and studied sorrow began to flow and to rise. They unfolded the customary melody but the guests hearkened in dull amazement. Already they knew not wherefore is it necessary, and why is it well, that people should pluck strings, inflate56 their cheeks, blow in thin pipes, and produce a bizarre, many-voiced noise.
"What bad music," said someone.
The musicians took offense57 and left. Following them, the guests left one after another, for night was already come. And when placid58 darkness encircled them and they began to breathe with more ease, suddenly Lazarus' image loomed59 up before each one in formidable radiance: the blue face of a corpse, grave-clothes gorgeous and resplendent, a cold look, in the depths of which lay motionless an unknown horror. As though petrified60, they were standing61 far apart, and darkness enveloped62 them, but in the darkness blazed brighter and brighter the supernatural vision of him who for three days had been under the enigmatical sway of death. For three days had he been dead: thrice had the sun risen and set, but he had been dead; children had played, streams murmured over pebbles63, the wayfarer64 had lifted up hot dust in the highroad,—but he had been dead. And now he is again among them,—touches them,—looks at them,—looks at them! and through the black discs of his pupils, as through darkened glass, stares the unknowable Yonder.
III
No one was taking care of Lazarus, for no friends no relatives were left to him, and the great desert which encircled the holy city, came near the very threshold of his dwelling. And the desert entered his house, and stretched on his couch, like a wife and extinguished the fires. No one was taking care of Lazarus. One after the other, his sisters—Mary and Martha—forsook him. For a long while Martha was loath65 to abandon him, for she knew not who would feed him and pity him, she wept and prayed. But one night, when the wind was roaming in the desert and with a hissing66 sound the cypresses67 were bending over the roof, she dressed noiselessly and secretly left the house. Lazarus probably heard the door slam; it banged against the side-post under the gusts68 of the desert wind, but he did not rise to go out and to look at her that was abandoning him. All the night long the cypresses hissed69 over his head and plaintively70 thumped71 the door, letting in the cold, greedy desert.
Like a leper he was shunned72 by everyone, and it was proposed to tie a bell to his neck, as is done with lepers, to warn people against sudden meetings. But someone remarked, growing frightfully pale, that it would be too horrible if by night the moaning of Lazarus' bell were suddenly heard under the windows,—and so the project was abandoned.
And since he did not take care of himself, he would probably have starved to death, had not the neighbors brought him food in fear of something that they sensed but vaguely73. The food was brought to him by children; they were not afraid of Lazarus, nor did they mock him with naive74 cruelty, as children are wont75 to do with the wretched and miserable76. They were indifferent to him, and Lazarus answered them with the same coldness; he had no desire to caress4 the black little curls, and to look into their innocent shining eyes. Given to Time and to the Desert, his house was crumbling77 down, and long since had his famishing, lowing goats wandered away to the neighboring pastures. And his bridal garments became threadbare. Ever since that happy day, when the musicians played, he had worn them unaware79 of the difference of the new and the worn. The bright colors grew dull and faded; vicious dogs and the sharp thorn of the Desert turned the tender fabric80 into rags.
By day, when the merciless sun slew81 all things alive, and even scorpions82 sought shelter under stones and writhed83 there in a mad desire to sting, he sat motionless under the sunrays, his blue face and the uncouth84, bushy beard lifted up, bathing in the fiery85 flood.
When people still talked to him, he was once asked:
"Poor Lazarus, does it please thee to sit thus and to stare at the sun?"
And he had answered:
"Yes, it does."
So strong, it seemed, was the cold of his three days' grave, so deep the darkness, that there was no heat on earth to warm Lazarus, nor a splendor86 that could brighten the darkness of his eyes. That is what came to the mind of those who spoke87 to Lazarus, and with a sigh they left him.
And when the scarlet, flattened88 globe would lower, Lazarus would set out for the desert and walk straight toward the sun, as though striving to reach it. He always walked straight toward the sun and those who tried to follow him and to spy upon what he was doing at night in the desert, retained in their memory the black silhouette89 of a tall stout man against the red background of an enormous flattened disc. Night pursued them with her horrors, and so they did not learn of Lazarus' doings in the desert, but the vision of the black on red was forever branded on their brain. Just as a beast with a splinter in its eye furiously rubs its muzzle90 with its paws, so they too foolishly rubbed their eyes, but what Lazarus had given was indelible, and Death alone could efface91 it.
But there were people who lived far away, who never saw Lazarus and knew of him only by report. With daring curiosity, which is stronger than fear and feeds upon it, with hidden mockery, they would come to Lazarus who was sitting in the sun and enter into conversation with him. By this time Lazarus' appearance had changed for the better and was not so terrible. The first minute they snapped their fingers and thought of how stupid the inhabitants of the holy city were; but when the short talk was over and they started homeward, their looks were such that the inhabitants of the holy city recognized them at once and said:
"Look, there is one more fool on whom Lazarus has set his eye,"—and they shook their heads regretfully, and lifted up their arms.
There came brave, intrepid92 warriors93, with tinkling94 weapons; happy youths came with laughter and song; busy tradesmen, jingling95 their money, ran in for a moment, and haughty96 priests leaned their crosiers against Lazarus' door, and they were all strangely changed, as they came back. The same terrible shadow swooped97 down upon their souls and gave a new appearance to the old familiar world.
Those who still had the desire to speak, expressed their feelings thus:
"All things tangible98 and visible grew hollow, light, and transparent,—similar to lightsome shadows in the darkness of night;
"for, that great darkness, which holds the whole cosmos99, was dispersed101 neither by the sun or by the moon and the stars, but like an immense black shroud102 enveloped the earth and, like a mother, embraced it;
"it penetrated all the bodies, iron and stone,—and the particles of the bodies, having lost their ties, grew lonely; and it penetrated into the depth of the particles, and the particles of particles became lonely;
"for that great void, which encircles the cosmos, was not filled by things visible: neither by the sun, nor by the moon and the stars, but reigned103 unrestrained, penetrating104 everywhere, severing105 body from body, particle from particle;
"in the void hollow trees spread hollow roots threatening a fantastic fall; temples, palaces, and horses loomed up and they were hollow; and in the void men moved about restlessly but they were light and hollow like shadows;
"for, Time was no more, and the beginning of all things came near their end: the building was still being built, and builders were still hammering away, and its ruins were already seen and the void in its place; the man was still being born, but already funeral candles were burning at his head, and now they were extinguished, and there was the void in place of the man and of the funeral candles.
"and wrapped by void and darkness the man in despair trembled in the face of the Horror of the Infinite."
Thus spake the men who had still a desire to speak. But, surely, much more could have told those who wished not to speak, and died in silence.
IV
At that time there lived in Rome a renowned106 sculptor107. In clay, marble, and bronze he wrought bodies of gods and men, and such was their beauty, that people called them immortal108. But he himself was discontented and asserted that there was something even more beautiful, that he could not embody109 either in marble or in bronze. "I have not yet gathered the glimmers111 of the moon, nor have I my fill of sunshine," he was wont to say, "and there is no soul in my marble, no life in my beautiful bronze." And when on moonlit nights he slowly walked along the road, crossing the black shadows of cypresses, his white tunic112 glittering in the moonshine, those who met him would laugh in a friendly way and say:
"Art thou going to gather moonshine, Aurelius? Why then didst thou not fetch baskets?"
And he would answer, laughing and pointing to his eyes:
And so it was: the moon glimmered113 in his eyes and the sun sparkled therein. But he could not translate them into marble and therein lay the serene tragedy of his life.
He was descended114 from an ancient patrician115 race, had a good wife and children, and suffered from no want.
When the obscure rumor116 about Lazarus reached him, he consulted his wife and friends and undertook the far journey to Judea to see him who had miraculously risen from the dead. He was somewhat weary in those days and he hoped that the road would sharpen his blunted senses. What was said of Lazarus did not frighten him: he had pondered much over Death, did not like it, but he disliked also those who confused it with life.
"In this life,—life and beauty;
beyond,—Death, the enigmatical"—
thought he, and there is no better thing for a man to do than to delight in life and in the beauty of all things living. He had even a vainglorious117 desire to convince Lazarus of the truth of his own view and restore his soul to life, as his body had been restored. This seemed so much easier because the rumors118, shy and strange, did not render the whole truth about Lazarus and but vaguely warned against something frightful.
Lazarus had just risen from the stone in order to follow the sun which was setting in the desert, when a rich Roman attended by an armed slave, approached him and addressed him in a sonorous tone of voice:
"Lazarus!"
And Lazarus beheld119 a superb face, lit with glory, and arrayed in fine clothes, and precious stones sparkling in the sun. The red light lent to the Roman's face and head the appearance of gleaming bronze—that also Lazarus noticed. He resumed obediently his place and lowered his weary eyes.
"Yes, thou art ugly, my poor Lazarus,"—quietly said the Roman, playing with his golden chain; "thou art even horrible, my poor friend; and Death was not lazy that day when thou didst fall so heedlessly into his hands. But thou art stout, and, as the great C?sar used to say, fat people are not ill-tempered; to tell the truth, I don't understand why men fear thee. Permit me to spend the night in thy house; the hour is late, and I have no shelter."
Never had anyone asked Lazarus' hospitality.
"I have no bed," said he.
"I am somewhat of a soldier and I can sleep sitting," the Roman answered. "We shall build a fire."
"I have no fire."
"Then we shall have our talk in the darkness, like two friends. I think thou wilt120 find a bottle of wine."
"I have no wine."
The Roman laughed.
"Now I see why thou art so somber121 and dislikest thy second life. No wine! Why, then we shall do without it: there are words that make the head go round better than the Falernian."
By a sign he dismissed the slave, and they remained all alone. And again the sculptor started speaking, but it was as if, together with the setting sun, life had left his words; and they grew pale and hollow, as if they staggered on unsteady feet, as if they slipped and fell down, drunk with the heavy lees of weariness and despair. And black chasms122 grew up between the words—like far-off hints of the great void and the great darkness.
"Now I am thy guest, and thou wilt not be unkind to me, Lazarus!"—said he. "Hospitality is the duty even of those who for three days were dead. Three days, I was told, thou didst rest in the grave. There it must be cold ... and that is whence comes thy ill habit of going without fire and wine. As to me, I like fire; it grows dark here so rapidly.... The lines of thy eyebrows123 and forehead are quite, quite interesting: they are like ruins of strange palaces, buried in ashes after an earthquake. But why dost thou wear such ugly and queer garments? I have seen bridegrooms in thy country, and they wear such clothes—are they not funny—and terrible.... But art thou a bridegroom?"
The sun had already disappeared, a monstrous black shadow came running from the east—it was as if gigantic bare feet began rumbling78 on the sand, and the wind sent a cold wave along the backbone124.
"In the darkness thou seemest still larger, Lazarus, as if thou hast grown stouter125 in these moments. Dost thou feed on darkness, Lazarus? I would fain have a little fire—at least a little fire, a little fire. I feel somewhat chilly126, your nights are so barbarously cold.... Were it not so dark, I should say that thou wert looking at me, Lazarus. Yes, it seems to me, thou art looking.... Why, thou art looking at me, I feel it,—but there thou art smiling."
Night came, and filled the air with heavy blackness.
"How well it will be, when the sun will rise to-morrow anew.... I am a great sculptor, thou knowest; that is how my friends call me. I create. Yes, that is the word ... but I need daylight. I give life to the cold marble, I melt sonorous bronze in fire, in bright hot fire.... Why didst thou touch me with thy hand?"
"Come"—said Lazarus—"Thou art my guest."
And they went to the house. And a long night enveloped the earth.
The slave, seeing that his master did not come, went to seek him, when the sun was already high in the sky. And he beheld his master side by side with Lazarus: in profound silence were they sitting right under the dazzling and scorching127 sunrays and looking upward. The slave began to weep and cried out:
"My master, what has befallen thee, master?"
The very same day the sculptor left for Rome. On the way Aurelius was pensive128 and taciturn, staring attentively129 at everything—the men, the ship, the sea, as though trying to retain something. On the high sea a storm burst upon them, and all through it Aurelius stayed on the deck and eagerly scanned the seas looming130 near and sinking with a thud.
At home his friends were frightened at the change which had taken place in Aurelius, but he calmed them, saying meaningly:
"I have found it."
And without changing the dusty clothes he wore on his journey, he fell to work, and the marble obediently resounded131 under his sonorous hammer. Long and eagerly worked he, admitting no one, until one morning he announced that the work was ready and ordered his friends to be summoned, severe critics and connoisseurs132 of art. And to meet them he put on bright and gorgeous garments, that glittered with yellow gold—and—scarlet byssus.
"Here is my work," said he thoughtfully.
His friends glanced and a shadow of profound sorrow covered their faces. It was something monstrous, deprived of all the lines and shapes familiar to the eye, but not without a hint at some new, strange image.
On a thin, crooked133 twig134, or rather on an ugly likeness135 of a twig rested askew136 a blind, ugly, shapeless, outspread mass of something utterly137 and inconceivably distorted, a mad leap of wild and bizarre fragments, all feebly and vainly striving to part from one another. And, as if by chance, beneath one of the wildly-rent salients a butterfly was chiseled138 with divine skill, all airy loveliness, delicacy139, and beauty, with transparent wings, which seemed to tremble with an impotent desire to take flight.
"Wherefore this wonderful butterfly, Aurelius?" said somebody falteringly140.
"I know not"—was the sculptor's answer.
But it was necessary to tell the truth, and one of his friends who loved him best said firmly:
"This is ugly, my poor friend. It must be destroyed. Give me the hammer."
And with two strokes he broke the monstrous man into pieces, leaving only the infinitely delicate butterfly untouched.
From that time on Aurelius created nothing. With profound indifference141 he looked at marble and bronze, and on his former divine works, where everlasting142 beauty rested. With the purpose of arousing his former fervent143 passion for work and, awakening144 his deadened soul, his friends took him to see other artists' beautiful works,—but he remained indifferent as before, and the smile did not warm up his tightened145 lips. And only after listening to lengthy146 talks about beauty, he would retort wearily and indolently:
"But all this is a lie."
And by the day, when the sun was shining, he went into his magnificent, skilfully147 built garden and having found a place without shadow, he exposed his bare head to the glare and heat. Red and white butterflies fluttered around; from the crooked lips of a drunken satyr, water streamed down with a splash into a marble cistern148, but he sat motionless and silent,—like a pallid149 reflection of him who, in the far-off distance, at the very gates of the stony desert, sat under the fiery sun.
V
And now it came to pass that the great, deified Augustus himself summoned Lazarus. The imperial messengers dressed him gorgeously, in solemn nuptial clothes, as if Time had legalized them, and he was to remain until his very death the bridegroom of an unknown bride. It was as though an old, rotting coffin had been gilt150 and furnished with new, gay tassels151. And men, all in trim and bright attire152, rode after him, as if in bridal procession indeed, and those foremost trumpeted153 loudly, bidding people to clear the way for the emperor's messengers. But Lazarus' way was deserted154: his native land cursed the hateful name of him who had miraculously risen from the dead, and people scattered at the very news of his appalling26 approach. The solitary155 voice of the brass156 trumpets157 sounded in the motionless air, and the wilderness158 alone responded with its languid echo.
Then Lazarus went by sea. And his was the most magnificently arrayed and the most mournful ship that ever mirrored itself in the azure159 waves of the Mediterranean160 Sea. Many were the travelers aboard, but like a tomb was the ship, all silence and stillness, and the despairing water sobbed161 at the steep, proudly curved prow162. All alone sat Lazarus exposing his head to the blaze of the sun, silently listening to the murmur and splash of the wavelets, and afar seamen163 and messengers were sitting, a vague group of weary shadows. Had the thunder burst and the wind attacked the red sails, the ships would probably have perished, for none of those aboard had either the will or the strength to struggle for life. With a supreme164 effort some mariners165 would reach the board and eagerly scan the blue, transparent deep, hoping to see a naiad's pink shoulder flash in the hollow of an azure wave, or a drunken gay centaur166 dash along and in frenzy splash the wave with his hoof167. But the sea was like a wilderness, and the deep was dumb and deserted.
With utter indifference did Lazarus set his feet on the street of the eternal city. As though all her wealth, all the magnificence of her palaces built by giants, all the resplendence, beauty, and music of her refined life were but the echo of the wind in the wilderness, the reflection of the desert quicksand. Chariots were dashing, and along the streets were moving crowds of strong, fair, proud builders of the eternal city and haughty participants in her life; a song sounded; fountains and women laughed a pearly laughter; drunken philosophers harangued168, and the sober listened to them with a smile; hoofs169 struck the stone pavements. And surrounded by cheerful noise, a stout, heavy man was moving, a cold spot of silence and despair, and on his way he sowed disgust, anger, and vague, gnawing170 weariness. Who dares to be sad in Rome, wondered indignantly the citizens, and frowned. In two days the entire city already knew all about him who had miraculously risen from the dead, and shunned him shyly.
But some daring people there were, who wanted to test their strength, and Lazarus obeyed their imprudent summons. Kept busy by state affairs, the emperor constantly delayed the reception, and seven days did he who had risen from the dead go about visiting others.
And Lazarus came to a cheerful Epicurean, and the host met him with laughter on his lips:
"Drink, Lazarus, drink!"—shouted he. "Would not Augustus laugh to see thee drunk!"
And half-naked drunken women laughed, and rose petals171 fell on Lazarus' blue hands. But then the Epicurean looked into Lazarus' eyes, and his gaiety ended forever. Drunkard remained he for the rest of his life; never did he drink, yet forever was he drunk. But instead of the gay reverie which wine brings with it, frightful dreams began to haunt him, the sole food of his stricken spirit. Day and night he lived in the poisonous vapors172 of his nightmares, and death itself was not more frightful than her raving173, monstrous forerunners174.
And Lazarus came to a youth and his beloved, who loved each other and were most beautiful in their passions. Proudly and strongly embracing his love, the youth said with serene regret:
"Look at us, Lazarus, and share our joy. Is there anything stronger than love?"
And Lazarus looked. And for the rest of their life they kept on loving each other, but their passion grew gloomy and joyless, like those funeral cypresses whose roots feed on the decay of the graves and whose black summits in a still evening hour seek in vain to reach the sky. Thrown by the unknown forces of life into each other's embraces, they mingled175 tears with kisses, voluptuous176 pleasures with pain, and they felt themselves doubly slaves, obedient slaves to life, and patient servants of the silent Nothingness. Ever united, ever severed177, they blazed like sparks and like sparks lost themselves in the boundless178 Dark.
"I know all the horrors thou canst reveal to me. Is there anything thou canst frighten me with?"
But before long the sage felt that the knowledge of horror was far from being the horror itself, and that the vision of Death, was not Death. And he felt that wisdom and folly180 are equal before the face of Infinity181, for Infinity knows them not. And it vanished, the dividing-line between knowledge and ignorance, truth and falsehood, top and bottom, and the shapeless thought hung suspended in the void. Then the sage clutched his gray head and cried out frantically182:
"I cannot think! I cannot think!"
Thus under the indifferent glance for him, who miraculously had risen from the dead, perished everything that asserts life, its significance and joys. And it was suggested that it was dangerous to let him see the emperor, that it was better to kill him and, having buried him secretly, to tell the emperor that he had disappeared no one knew whither. Already swords were being whetted183 and youths devoted184 to the public welfare prepared for the murder, when Augustus ordered Lazarus to be brought before him next morning, thus destroying the cruel plans.
If there was no way of getting rid of Lazarus, at least it was possible to soften185 the terrible impression his face produced. With this in view, skillful painters, barbers, and artists were summoned, and all night long they were busy over Lazarus' head. They cropped his beard, curled it, and gave it a tidy, agreeable appearance. By means of paints they concealed186 the corpse-like blueness of his hands and face. Repulsive were the wrinkles of suffering that furrowed187 his old face, and they were puttied, painted, and smoothed; then, over the smooth background, wrinkles of good-tempered laughter and pleasant, carefree mirth were skillfully painted with fine brushes.
Lazarus submitted indifferently to everything that was done to him. Soon he was turned into a becomingly stout, venerable old man, into a quiet and kind grandfather of numerous offspring. It seemed that the smile, with which only a while ago he was spinning funny yarns188, was still lingering on his lips, and that in the corner of his eye serene tenderness was hiding, the companion of old age. But people did not dare change his nuptial garments, and they could not change his eyes, two dark and frightful glasses through which looked at men, the unknowable Yonder.
VI
Lazarus was not moved by the magnificence of the imperial palace. It was as though he saw no difference between the crumbling house, closely pressed by the desert, and the stone palace, solid and fair, and indifferently he passed into it. And the hard marble of the floors under his feet grew similar to the quicksand of the desert, and the multitude of richly dressed and haughty men became like void air under his glance. No one looked into his face, as Lazarus passed by, fearing to fall under the appalling influence of his eyes; but when the sound of his heavy footsteps had sufficiently189 died down, the courtiers raised their heads and with fearful curiosity examined the figure of a stout, tall, slightly bent190 old man, who was slowly penetrating into the very heart of the imperial palace. Were Death itself passing, it would be faced with no greater fear: for until then the dead alone knew Death, and those alive knew Life only—and there was no bridge between them. But this extraordinary man, although alive, knew Death, and enigmatical, appalling, was his cursed knowledge. "Woe," people thought, "he will take the life of our great, deified Augustus," and they sent curses after Lazarus, who meanwhile kept on advancing into the interior of the palace.
Already did the emperor know who Lazarus was, and prepared to meet him. But the monarch191 was a brave man, and felt his own tremendous, unconquerable power, and in his fatal duel192 with him who had miraculously risen from the dead he wanted not to invoke193 human help. And so he met Lazarus face to face:
"Lift not thine eyes upon me, Lazarus," he ordered. "I heard thy face is like that of Medusa and turns into stone whomsoever thou lookest at. Now, I wish to see thee and to have a talk with thee, before I turn into stone,"—added he in a tone of kingly jesting, not devoid194 of fear.
Coming close to him, he carefully examined Lazarus' face and his strange festal garments. And although he had a keen eye, he was deceived by his appearance.
"So. Thou dost not appear terrible, my venerable old man. But the worse for us, if horror assumes such a respectable and pleasant air. Now let us have a talk."
Augustus sat, and questioning Lazarus with his eye as much as with words, started the conversation:
"Why didst thou not greet me as thou enteredst?"
Lazarus answered indifferent:
"I knew not it was necessary."
"No."
Augustus approvingly shook his head.
"That is good. I do not like Christians196. They shake the tree of life before it is covered with fruit, and disperse100 its odorous bloom to the winds. But who art thou?"
With a visible effort Lazarus answered:
"I was dead."
"I had heard that. But who art thou now?"
"I was dead."
"Listen to me, stranger," said the emperor, distinctly and severely198 giving utterance199 to the thought that had come to him at the beginning, "my realm is the realm of Life, my people are of the living, not of the dead. Thou art here one too many. I know not who thou art and what thou sawest there; but, if thou liest, I hate thy lies, and if thou tellst the truth, I hate thy truth. In my bosom200 I feel the throb201 of life; I feel strength in my arm, and my proud thoughts, like eagles, pierce the space. And yonder in the shelter of my rule, under the protection of laws created by me, people live and toil202 and rejoice. Dost thou hear the battle-cry, the challenge men throw into the face of the future?"
"Be blessed, O great and divine Life!"
Lazarus was silent, and with growing sternness the emperor went on:
"Thou art not wanted here, miserable remnant, snatched from under Death's teeth, thou inspirest weariness and disgust with life; like a caterpillar204 in the fields, thou gloatest on the rich ear of joy and belchest out the drivel of despair and sorrow. Thy truth is like a rusty205 sword in the hands of a nightly murderer,—and as a murderer thou shalt be executed. But before that, let me look into thine eyes. Perchance, only cowards are afraid of them, but in the brave they awake the thirst for strife206 and victory; then thou shalt be rewarded, not executed.... Now, look at me, Lazarus."
At first it appeared to the deified Augustus that a friend was looking at him,—so soft, so tenderly fascinating was Lazarus' glance. It promised not horror, but sweet rest and the Infinite seemed to him a tender mistress, a compassionate207 sister, a mother. But stronger and stronger grew its embraces, and already the mouth, greedy of hissing kisses, interfered208 with the monarch's breathing, and already to the surface of the soft tissues of the body came the iron of the bones and tightened its merciless circle,—and unknown fangs209, blunt and cold, touched his heart and sank into it with slow indolence.
"It pains," said the deified Augustus, growing pale. "But look at me, Lazarus, look."
It was as though some heavy gates, ever closed, were slowly moving apart, and through the growing interstice the appalling horror of the Infinite poured in slowly and steadily210. Like two shadows there entered the shoreless void and the unfathomable darkness; they extinguished the sun, ravished the earth from under the feet, and the roof from over the head. No more did the frozen heart ache.
Time stood still, and the beginning of each thing grew frightfully near to its end. Augustus' throne just erected212, crumbled213 down, and the void was already in the place of the throne and of Augustus. Noiselessly did Rome crumble214 down, and a new city stood on its site and it too was swallowed by the void. Like fantastic giants, cities, states, and countries fell down and vanished in the void darkness—and with uttermost indifference did the insatiable black womb of the Infinite swallow them.
"Halt!"—ordered the emperor.
In his voice sounded already a note of indifference, his hands dropped in languor215, and in the vain struggle with the onrushing darkness his fiery eyes now blazed up, and now went out.
"My life thou hast taken from me, Lazarus,"—said he in a spiritless, feeble voice.
And these words of hopelessness saved him. He remembered his people, whose shield he was destined216 to be, and keen salutary pain pierced his deadened heart. "They are doomed217 to death," he thought wearily. "Serene shadows in the darkness of the Infinite," thought he, and horror grew upon him. "Frail218 vessels219 with living seething220 blood with a heart that knows sorrow and also great joy," said he in his heart, and tenderness pervaded221 it.
Thus pondering and oscillating between the poles of Life and Death, he slowly came back to life, to find in its suffering and in its joys a shield against the darkness of the void and the horror of the Infinite.
"No, thou hast not murdered me, Lazarus," said he firmly, "but I will take thy life. Be gone."
That evening the deified Augustus partook of his meats and drinks with particular joy. Now and then his lifted hand remained suspended in the air, and a dull glimmer replaced the bright sheen of his fiery eye. It was the cold wave of Horror that surged at his feet. Defeated, but not undone222, ever awaiting its hour, that Horror stood at the emperor's bedside, like a black shadow all through his life; it swayed his nights, but yielded the days to the sorrows and joys of life.
The following day, the hangman with a hot iron burned out Lazarus' eyes. Then he was sent home. The deified Augustus dared not kill him.
Lazarus returned to the desert, and the wilderness met him with hissing gusts of wind and the heat of the blazing sun. Again he was sitting on a stone, his rough, bushy beard lifted up; and the two black holes in place of his eyes looked at the sky with an expression of dull terror. Afar-off the holy city stirred noisily and restlessly, but around him everything was deserted and dumb. No one approached the place where lived he who had miraculously risen from the dead, and long since his neighbors had forsaken223 their houses. Driven by the hot iron into the depth of his skull224, his cursed knowledge hid there in an ambush225. As though leaping out from an ambush it plunged226 its thousand invisible eyes into the man,—and no one dared look at Lazarus.
And in the evening, when the sun, reddening and growing wider, would come nearer and nearer the western horizon, the blind Lazarus would slowly follow it. He would stumble against stones and fall, stout and weak as he was; would rise heavily to his feet and walk on again; and on the red screen of the sunset his black body and outspread hands would form a monstrous likeness of a cross.
And it came to pass that once he went out and did not come back. Thus seemingly ended the second life of him who for three days had been under the enigmatical sway of death, and rose miraculously from the dead.
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1
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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11
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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12
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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13
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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15
mica
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| n.云母 | |
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17
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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18
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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19
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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20
decomposition
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| n. 分解, 腐烂, 崩溃 | |
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21
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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22
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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24
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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25
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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26
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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27
appallingly
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| 毛骨悚然地 | |
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28
nuptial
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| adj.婚姻的，婚礼的 | |
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29
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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30
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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31
jubilation
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| n.欢庆，喜悦 | |
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32
tempestuously
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| adv.剧烈地，暴风雨似地 | |
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33
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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34
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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35
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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36
chirped
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的过去式 ) | |
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37
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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38
obesity
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| n.肥胖，肥大 | |
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39
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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40
tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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41
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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42
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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43
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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44
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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45
primordial
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| adj.原始的；最初的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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47
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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48
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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49
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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50
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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51
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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52
apathetically
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| adv.不露感情地；无动于衷地；不感兴趣地；冷淡地 | |
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53
languished
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| 长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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54
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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55
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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56
inflate
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| vt.使膨胀，使骄傲，抬高（物价） | |
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57
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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58
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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59
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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60
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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61
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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62
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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64
wayfarer
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| n.旅人 | |
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65
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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66
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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67
cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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68
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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69
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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70
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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71
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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74
naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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75
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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76
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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77
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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78
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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79
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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80
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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81
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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82
scorpions
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| n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
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83
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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85
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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86
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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87
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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88
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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89
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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90
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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91
efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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94
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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95
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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96
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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97
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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99
cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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100
disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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101
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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102
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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103
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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104
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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105
severing
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的现在分词 )；断，裂 | |
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106
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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107
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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108
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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109
embody
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| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
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110
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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111
glimmers
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| n.微光，闪光( glimmer的名词复数 )v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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112
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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113
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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115
patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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116
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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117
vainglorious
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| adj.自负的；夸大的 | |
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118
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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119
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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120
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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121
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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122
chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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123
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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124
backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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125
stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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126
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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127
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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128
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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129
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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130
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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131
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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132
connoisseurs
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| n.鉴赏家，鉴定家，行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
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133
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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134
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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135
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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136
askew
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|
| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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137
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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138
chiseled
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| adj.凿刻的，轮廓分明的v.凿，雕，镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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139
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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140
falteringly
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| 口吃地，支吾地 | |
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141
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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142
everlasting
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|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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143
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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144
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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145
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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146
lengthy
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|
| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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147
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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148
cistern
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| n.贮水池 | |
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149
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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150
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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151
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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152
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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153
trumpeted
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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154
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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155
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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156
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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157
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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158
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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159
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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160
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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161
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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162
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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163
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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164
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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165
mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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166
centaur
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| n.人首马身的怪物 | |
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167
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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168
harangued
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| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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170
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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171
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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172
vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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173
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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174
forerunners
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| n.先驱( forerunner的名词复数 )；开路人；先兆；前兆 | |
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175
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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176
voluptuous
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|
| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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177
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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178
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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179
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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180
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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181
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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182
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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183
whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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184
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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185
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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186
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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187
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188
yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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189
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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190
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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191
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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192
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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193
invoke
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| v.求助于(神、法律)；恳求，乞求 | |
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194
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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195
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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196
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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197
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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198
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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199
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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200
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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201
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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202
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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203
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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204
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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205
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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206
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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207
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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208
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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209
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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210
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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211
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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212
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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213
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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214
crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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215
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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216
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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217
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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218
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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219
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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220
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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221
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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222
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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223
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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224
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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225
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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226
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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