"Mademoiselle?... What's the matter, mademoiselle?"
They seemed so staggered by her sobs1 and by their own presence round her, that Dorothy passed suddenly from tears to laughter, and yielding to her natural impulse, she began forthwith to dance, without troubling to know whether she would appear to them to be a princess or a rope-dancer. And the more this unexpected display increased the embarrassment3 of her companions the gayer she grew. Fandango, jig4, reel, she gave a snatch of each, with a simulated accompaniment of castanets, and a genuine accompaniment of English songs and Auvergnat ritornelles, and above all of bursts of laughter which awakened5 the echoes of Roche-Périac.
"But laugh too, all five of you!" she cried. "You look like five mummies. It's I who order you to laugh, I, Dorothy, rope-dancer and Princess of Argonne. Come, Mr. Lawyer," she added, addressing the gentleman in the frock-coat. "Look more cheerful. I assure you that there's plenty to be cheerful about."
She darted6 to the good man, shook him by the hand, and said, as if to assure him of his status: "You are the lawyer, aren't you? The notary7 charged with the execution of the provisions of a will. That's much clearer than you think.... We'll explain it to you.... You are the notary?"
"At Nantes? Excellent; we know where we are. And it's a question of a gold medal, isn't it?... A gold medal which each has received as a summons to the rendezvous9?"
"The 12th of July, 1921."
"Yes, yes—1921."
"At noon?"
"At noon."
He made as if to look at his watch. She stopped him:
"You needn't take the trouble, Maître Delarue; we've heard the Angelus. You are punctual at the rendezvous.... We are too.... Everything is in order.... Each has his gold medal.... They're going to show it to you."
"This is Maître Delarue, the notary. You understand? If you don't, I can speak English—and Italian—and Javanese."
All four of them protested that they understood French.
"Excellent. We shall understand one another better. Then this is Maître Delarue; he is the notary, the man who has been instructed to preside at our meeting. In France notaries12 represent the dead. So that since it is a dead man who brings us together, you see how important Maître Delarue's position is in the matter. You don't grasp it? How funny that is! To me it is all so clear—and so amusing. So strange! It's the prettiest adventure I ever heard of—and the most thrilling. Think now! We all belong to the same family.... We're by way of being cousins. Then we ought to be joyful13 like relations who have come together. And all the more because—yes: I'm right—all four of you are decorated.... The French Croix de Guerre. Then all four of you have fought?... Fought in France?... You have defended my dear country?"
She shook hands with all of them, with an air of affection, and since the American and the Italian displayed an equal warmth, of a sudden, with a spontaneous movement, she rose on tip-toe and kissed them on both cheeks.
"Welcome cousin from America ... welcome cousin from Italy ... welcome to my country. And to you two also, greetings. It's settled that we're comrades—friends—isn't it?"
The atmosphere was charged with joy and that good humor which comes from being young and full of life. They felt themselves to be really of the same family, scattered14 members brought together. They no longer felt the constraint15 of a first meeting. They had known one another for years and years—for ages! cried Dorothy, clapping her hands. So the four men surrounded her, at once attracted by her charm and lightheartedness, and surprised by the light she brought into the obscure story which so suddenly united them to one another. All barriers were swept away. There was none of that slow infiltration16 of feeling which little by little fills you with trust and sympathy, but the sudden inrush of the most unreserved comradeship. Each wished to please and each felt that he did please.
Dorothy separated them and set them in a row as if about to review them.
"I'll take you in turn, my friends. Excuse me, Monsieur Delarue, I'll do the questioning and verify their credentials17. Number one, the gentleman from America, who are you? Your name?"
The American answered:
"Archibald Webster, of Philadelphia."
"Archibald Webster, of Philadelphia. You received from your father a gold medal?"
"From my mother, mademoiselle. My father died many years ago."
"And from whom did your mother receive it?"
"From her father."
"And he from his and so on in succession, isn't that it?"
Archibald Webster confirmed her statement in excellent French, as if it was his duty to answer her questions:
"And so on in succession, as you say, mademoiselle. A family tradition, which goes back to we don't know when, ascribes a French origin to her family, and directs that a certain medal should be transmitted to the eldest18 son, without more than two persons ever knowing of its existence."
"And what do you understand this tradition to mean?"
"I don't know what it means. My mother told me that it gave us a right to a share of a treasure. But she laughed as she told me and sent me to France rather out of curiosity."
"Show me your medal, Archibald Webster."
The American took the gold medal from his waistcoat pocket. It was exactly like the one Dorothy possessed—the inscription19, the size, the dull color were the same. Dorothy showed it to Maître Delarue, then gave it back to the American, and went on with her questioning:
"Number two—English, aren't you?"
"George Errington, of London."
"Tell us what you know, George Errington, of London."
The Englishman shook his pipe, emptied it, and answered in equally good French.
"I know no more. An orphan20 from birth, I received the medal three days ago from the hands of my guardian21, my father's brother. He told me that, according to my father, it was a matter of collecting a bequest22, and according to himself, there was nothing in it, but I ought to obey the summons."
"You were right to obey it, George Errington. Show me your medal. Right: you're in order.... Number three—a Russian, doubtless?"
The man in the soldier's cap understood; but he did not speak French. He smiled his large smile and gave her a scrap23 of paper of doubtful cleanliness, on which was written: "Kourobelef, French war, Salonica. War with Wrangel."
"The medal?" said Dorothy. "Right. You're one of us. And the medal of number four—the gentleman from Italy?"
"Marco Dario, of Geneva," answered the Italian, showing his medal. "I found it on my father's body, in Champagne24, one day after we had been fighting side by side. He had never spoken to me about it."
"Nevertheless you have come here."
"I did not intend to. And then, in spite of myself, as I had returned to Champagne—to my father's tomb, I took the train to Vannes."
"Yes," she said: "like the others you have obeyed the command of our common ancestor. What ancestor? And why this command? That is what Monsieur Delarue is going to reveal to us. Come Monsieur Delarue: all is in order. All of us have the token. It is now in order for us to call on you for the explanation."
"What explanation?" asked the lawyer, still dazed by so many surprises. "I don't quite know...."
"How do you mean you don't know?... Why this leather satchel25.... And why have you made the journey from Nantes to Roche-Périac? Come, open your satchel and read to us the documents it must contain."
"You truly believe——"
"Of course I believe! We have, all five of us, these gentlemen and myself, performed our duty in coming here and informing you of our identity. It is your turn to carry out your mission. We are all ears."
The gayety of the young girl spread around her such an atmosphere of cordiality that even Maître Delarue himself felt its beneficent effects. Besides, the business was already in train; and he entered smoothly26 on ground over which the young girl had traced, in the midst of apparently27 impenetrable brushwood, a path which he could follow with perfect ease.
"But certainly," said he. "But certainly.... There is nothing else to do.... And I must communicate what I know to you.... Excuse me.... But this affair is so disconcerting."
Getting the better of the confusion into which he had been thrown, he recovered all the dignity which befits a lawyer. They set him in the seat of honor on a kind of shelf formed by an inequality of the ground, and formed a circle round him. Following Dorothy's instructions, he opened his satchel with the air of importance of a man used to having every eye fixed28 on him and every ear stretched to catch his every word, and without waiting to be again pressed to speak, embarked29 on a discourse30 evidently prepared for the event of his finding himself, contrary to all reasonable expectation, in the presence of some one at the appointed rendezvous.
"My preamble31 will be brief," he said, "for I am eager to come to the object of this reunion. On the day—it is fourteen years ago—on which I installed myself at Nantes in the office of a notary whose practice I had bought, my predecessor32, after having given me full information about the more complicated cases in hand, exclaimed: 'Ah, but I was forgetting ... not that it's of any importance.... But all the same.... Look, my dear confrère, this is the oldest set of papers in the office.... And a measly set too, since it only consists of a sealed letter with a note of instructions, which I will read to you:
Missive intrusted to the strict care of the Sire Barbier, scrivener, and of his successors, to be opened on the 12th of July, 1921, at noon, in front of the clock of the Château of Roche-Périac, and to be read in the presence of all possessors of a gold medal struck at my instance.
"There! No other explanations. My predecessor did not receive any from the man from whom he had bought the practice. The most he could learn, after researches among the old registers of the parish of Périac, was that the Sire Barbier (Hippolyte Jean), scrivener, lived at the beginning of the eighteenth century. At what epoch33 was his office closed? For what reasons were his papers transported to Nantes? Perhaps we may suppose that owing to certain circumstances, one of the lords of Roche-Périac left the country and settled down at Nantes with his furniture, his horses, and his household down to the village scrivener. Anyhow, for nearly two hundred years the letter intrusted to the strict care of the scrivener Barbier and his successors, lay at the bottom of drawers and pigeon-holes, without any one's having tried to violate the secrecy34 enjoined35 by the writer of it. And so it came about that in all probability it would fall to my lot to break the seal!"
Maître Delarue made a pause and looked at his auditors36. They were, as they say, hanging on his lips. Pleased with the impression he had produced, he tapped the leather satchel, and continued:
"Need I tell you that my thoughts have very often dwelt on this prospect37 and that I have been curious to learn the contents of such a letter? A journey even which I made to this château gave me no information, in spite of my searches in the archives of the villages and towns of the district. Then the appointed time drew near. Before doing anything I went to consult the president of the civil court. A question presented itself. If the letter was to be considered a testamentary disposition38, perhaps I ought not to open it except in the presence of that magistrate39. That was my opinion. It was not his. He was of the opinion that we were confronted by a display of fantasy (he went so far as to murmur40 the word 'humbug') which was outside the scope of the law and that I should act quite simply. 'A trysting-place beneath the elm,' he said, joking, 'has been fixed for you at noon on the 12th of July. Go there, Monsieur Delarue, break the seal of the missive in accordance with the instructions, and come back and tell me all about it. I promise you not not to laugh if you come back looking like a fool.' Accordingly, in a very sceptical state of mind, I took the train to Vannes, then the coach, and then hired a donkey to bring me to the ruins. You can imagine my surprise at finding that I was not alone under the elm—I mean the clock—at the rendezvous but that all of you were waiting for me."
"All the same the business grows serious."
George Errington, of London, added:
"Perhaps the story of the treasure is not so absurd."
"Monsieur Delarue's letter is going to inform us," said Dorothy.
So the moment had come. They gathered more closely round the notary. A certain gravity mingled42 with the gayety on the young faces; and it grew deeper when Maître Delarue displayed before the eyes of all one of those large square envelopes which formerly43 one made oneself out of a thick sheet of paper. It was discolored with that peculiar44 shine which only the lapse45 of time can give to paper. It was sealed with five seals, once upon a time red perhaps, but now of a grayish violet seamed by a thousand little cracks like a network of wrinkles. In the left-hand corner at the top, the formula of transmission must have been renewed several times, traced afresh with ink by the successors of the scrivener Barbier.
"The seals are quite intact," said Monsieur Delarue. "You can even manage to make out the three Latin words of the motto."
"In robore fortuna," said Dorothy.
"Ah, you know?" said the notary, surprised.
"Yes, Monsieur Delarue, yes, they are the same as those engraved46 on the gold medals, and those I discovered just now, half rubbed out, under the face of the clock."
"We have here an indisputable connection," said the notary, "which draws together the different parts of the affair and confers on it an authenticity——"
"Open the letter—open it, Monsieur Delarue," said Dorothy impatiently.
Three of the seals were broken; the envelope was unfolded. It contained a large sheet of parchment, broken into four pieces which separated and had to be put together again.
From top to bottom and on both sides the sheet of parchment was covered with large handwriting with bold down-strokes, which had evidently been written in indelible ink. The lines almost touched and the letters were so close together that the whole had the appearance of an old printed page in a very large type.
"I'm going to read it," murmured Monsieur Delarue.
"Don't lose a second—for the love of God!" cried Dorothy.
He took a second pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on over the first, and read:
"'Written this day, the 12th of July, 1721 ...'"
"'Written this day, the 12th of July, 1721, the last day of my existence, to be read the 12th of July, 1921, the first day of my resurrection.'"
The notary stopped short. The young people looked at one another with an air of stupefaction.
Archibald Webster, of Philadelphia, observed:
"This gentleman was mad."
"The word resurrection is perhaps used in a symbolic48 sense," said Maître Delarue. "We shall learn from what follows: I will continue:
"'My children'...."
He stopped again and said:
"'My children'.... He is addressing you."
"For goodness sake, Maître Delarue, do not stop again, I beg you!" exclaimed Dorothy. "All this is thrilling."
"Nevertheless...."
"No, Maître Delarue, comment is useless. We're eager to know, aren't we, comrades?"
The four young men supported her vehemently49.
Thereupon the notary resumed his reading, with the hesitation50 and repetitions imposed by the difficulties of the text:
"'My children,
"'On leaving a meeting of the Academy of the sciences of Paris, to which Monsieur de Fontenelle had had the goodness to invite me, the illustrious author of the "Discourses51 on the Plurality of Worlds," seized me by the arm and said:
"'Marquis, would you mind enlightening me on a point about which, it seems, you maintain a shrinking reserve? How did you get that wound on your left hand, get your fourth finger cut off at the very root? The story goes that you left that finger at the bottom of one of your retorts, for you have the reputation, Marquis, of being something of an alchemist, and of seeking, inside the walls of your Château of Roche-Périac, the elixir52 of life.'
"'I do not seek it, Monsieur de Fontenelle,' I answered, 'I possess it.'
"'Truly?'
"'Truly, Monsieur de Fontenelle, and if you will permit me to put you in possession of a small phial, the pitiless Fate will certainly have to wait till your hundredth year.'
"'I accept with the greatest pleasure,' he said, laughing—'on condition that you keep me company. We are of the same age—which gives us another forty good years to live.'
"'For my part, Monsieur de Fontenelle, to live longer does not greatly appeal to me. What is the good of sticking stubbornly to a world in which no new spectacle can surprise and in which the day that is coming will be the same as the day that is done. What I wish to do is to come to life again, to come to life again in a century or two, to make the acquaintance of my grandchildren's children, and see what men have done since our time. There will be great changes here below, in the government of empires as well as in everyday life. I shall learn about them.'
"'Bravo, Marquis!' exclaimed Monsieur de Fontenelle, who seemed more and more amused. 'Bravo! It is another elixir which will give you this marvelous power.'
"'Another,' I asserted. 'I brought it back with me from India, where, as you know, I spent ten years of my youth, becoming the friend of the priests of that marvelous country, from which every revelation and every religion came to us. They initiated53 me into some of their chief mysteries.'
"'There are some secrets which they refused to reveal to me, such as the power to communicate with those other worlds, about which you have just discoursed55 so admirably, Monsieur de Fontenelle, and the power to live again.'
"Nevertheless, Marquis, you claim——'
"'That secret, Monsieur de Fontenelle, I stole; and to punish me for the theft they sentenced me to the punishment of having all my fingers torn off. After pulling off the first finger, they offered to pardon me, if I consented to restore the phial I had stolen. I told them where it was hidden. But I had taken the precaution beforehand to change the contents, having poured the elixir into another phial.'
"'So that, at the cost of one of your fingers, you have purchased a kind of immortality56.... Of which you propose to make use. Eh, Marquis,' said Monsieur de Fontenelle.
"'As soon as I shall have put my affairs in order,' I answered; 'that is to say, in about a couple of years.'
"'You're going to make use of it to live again?'
"'In the year of grace 1921.'
"My story caused Monsieur de Fontenelle the greatest amusement; and in taking leave of me, he promised to relate it in his Memoirs57 as a proof of my lively imagination—and doubtless, as he said to himself, of my insanity58."
Maître Delarue paused to take breath and looked round the circle with questioning eyes.
Marco Dario, of Genoa, threw back his head and laughed. The Russian showed his white teeth. The two Anglo-Saxons seemed greatly amused.
"Some farce," said Archibald Webster, of Philadelphia.
Dorothy said nothing; her eyes were thoughtful.
Silence fell and Maître Dalarue continued:
"Monsieur de Fontenelle was wrong to laugh, my children. There was no imagination or insanity about it. The great Indian priests know things that we do not know and never shall know; and I am the master of one of the most wonderful of their secrets. The time has come to make use of it. I am resolved to do so. Last year, my wife was killed by accident, leaving me in bitter sorrow. My four sons, like me of a venturesome spirit, are fighting or in business in foreign lands. I live alone. Shall I drag on to the end an old age that is useless and without charm? No. Everything is ready for my departure ... and for my return. My old servants, Geoffrey and his wife, faithful companions for thirty years, with a full knowledge of my project, have sworn to obey me. I say good-bye to my age.
"Learn, my children, the events which are about to take place at the Château of Roche-Périac. At two o'clock in the afternoon I shall fall into a stupor60. The doctor, summoned by Geoffrey, will ascertain61 that my heart is no longer beating. I shall be quite dead as far as human knowledge goes; and my servants will nail me up in the coffin62 which is ready for me. When night comes, Geoffrey and his wife will take me out of that coffin and carry me on a stretcher, to the ruins of Cocquesin tower, the oldest donjon of the Lords of Périac. Then they will fill the coffin with stones and nail it up again.
"For his part, Master Barbier, executor of my will and administrator63 of my property, will find in my drawer instructions, charging him to notify my four sons of my death and to convey to each of the four his share of his inheritance. Moreover by means of a special courier he will dispatch to each a gold medal which I have had struck, engraved with my motto and the date the 12th of July, 1921, the day of my resurrection. This medal will be transmitted from hand to hand, from generation to generation, beginning with the eldest son or grandson, in such a manner that not more than two persons shall know the secret at one time. Lastly Master Barbier will keep this letter, which I am going to seal with five seals, and which will be transmitted from scrivener to scrivener till the appointed date.
"When you read this letter, my children, the hour of noon on the 12th of July, 1921, will have struck. You will be gathered together under the clock of my château, fifty yards from old Cocquesin tower, where I shall have been sleeping for two centuries. I have chosen it as my resting-place, calculating that, if the revolutions which I foresee destroy the buildings in use, they will leave alone that which is already a crumbling64 ruin. Then, going along the avenue of oaks, which my father planted, you will come to this tower, which will doubtless be much the same as it is to-day. You will stop under the arch from which the draw-bridge was formerly raised, and one of you counting to the left, from the groove65 of the portcullis, the third stone above it, will push it straight before him, while another, counting on the right, always from the groove, the third stone above it, will do as the first is doing. Under this double pressure, exercised at the same time, the middle of the right wall will swing back inwards and form an incline, which will bring you to the bottom of a stone staircase in the thickness of the wall.
"Lighted by a torch, you will ascend66 a hundred and thirty-two steps, they will bring you to a partition of plaster which Geoffrey will have built up after my death. You will break it down with a pick-ax, waiting for you on the last step, and you will see a small massive door, the key of which only turns if one presses at the same time the three bricks which form part of that step.
"Through that door you will enter a chamber67 in which there will be a bed behind curtains. You will draw aside those curtains. I shall be sleeping there.
"Do not be surprised, my children, at finding me younger perhaps than the portrait of me which Monsieur Nicolas de Largillière, the King's painter, painted last year, and which hangs at the head of my bed. Two centuries' sleep, the resting of my heart, which will scarcely beat, will, I have no doubt, have filled up my wrinkles and restored youth to my features. It will not be an old man you will gaze upon.
"My children, the phial will be on a stool beside the bed, wrapped in linen68, corked69 with virgin70 wax. You will at once break the neck of the phial. While one of you opens my teeth with the point of a knife, another will pour the elixir, not drop by drop but in a thin trickle71, which should flow down to the bottom of my throat. Some minutes will pass. Then little by little life will return. The beating of my heart will grow quicker. My breast will rise and fall; and my eyes will open.
"Perhaps, my children, it will be necessary for you to speak in low voices, and not light up the room with too bright a light, that my eyes and ears may not suffer any shock. Perhaps on the other hand I shall only see you and hear you indistinctly, with enfeebled organs. I do not know. I foresee a period of torpor72 and uneasiness, during which I shall have to collect my thoughts as one does on awaking from sleep. Moreover I shall make no haste about it, and I beg you not to try to quicken my efforts. Quiet days and a nourishing diet will insensibly restore me to the sweetness of life.
"Have no fear at all that I shall need to live at your expense. Unknown to my relations I brought back from the Indies four diamonds of extraordinary size, which I have hidden in a hiding-place there is no finding. They will easily suffice to keep me in luxury befitting my station.
"Since I have to take into consideration that I may have forgotten the secret hiding-place of the diamonds, I have set forth2 the secret in some lines enclosed herein in a second envelope bearing the designation 'The Codicil73.'
"Of this codicil I have not breathed a word, not even to my servant Geoffrey and his wife. If out of human weakness they bequeath to their children an account revealing my secret history, they will not be able to reveal the hiding-place of those four marvelous diamonds, which they have often admired and which they will seek in vain after I am gone.
"The enclosed envelope then will be handed over to me as soon as I return to life. In the event—to my thinking impossible, but which none the less your interests compel me to take into account—of destiny having betrayed me and of your finding no trace of me, you will yourselves open the envelope and learning the whereabouts of the hiding-place, take possession of the diamonds. Then and thereafter I declare that the ownership of the diamonds is vested in those of my descendants who shall present the gold medal, and that no person shall have the right to intervene in the fair partition of them, on which they shall agree among themselves, and I beg them to make that partition themselves as their consciences shall direct.
"I have said what I have to say, my children. I am about to enter into the silence and await your coming. I do not doubt that you will come from all the corners of the earth at the imperious summons of the gold medal. Sprung from the same stock, be as brothers and sisters among yourselves. Approach with serious minds him who sleeps, and deliver him from the bonds which keep him in the kingdom of darkness.
"Written by my own hand, in perfect health of mind and body, this day, the 12th of July, 1721. Delivered under my hand and seal.
"Jean-Pierre-Augustin de la Roche, Marquis de ——"
"The signature is scarcely legible: the name begins with a B or an R ... the flourish muddles75 up all the letters."
Dorothy said slowly:
"Jean-Pierre-Augustin de la Roche, Marquis de Beaugreval."
"Yes, yes: that's it!" cried the notary at once. "Marquis de Beaugreval. How did you know?"
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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jig
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| n.快步舞（曲）；v.上下晃动；用夹具辅助加工；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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5
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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notaries
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| n.公证人，公证员( notary的名词复数 ) | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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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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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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infiltration
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| n.渗透；下渗；渗滤；入渗 | |
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credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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bequest
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| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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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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embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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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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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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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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symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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discourses
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| 论文( discourse的名词复数 )； 演说； 讲道； 话语 | |
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elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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discoursed
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| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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administrator
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| n.经营管理者，行政官员 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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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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corked
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| adj.带木塞气味的，塞着瓶塞的v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的过去式 ) | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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codicil
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| n.遗嘱的附录 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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muddles
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| v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的第三人称单数 )；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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