“We have met,” said Auberon, “to decide the most arduous7 of modern problems. May we be successful.” And he sat down gravely.
Buck turned his chair a little, and flung one leg over the other.
“Your Majesty,” he said, quite good-humouredly, “there is only one thing I can’t understand, and that is why this affair is not settled in five minutes. Here’s a small property which is worth a thousand to us and is not worth a hundred to any one else. We offer the thousand. It’s not business-like, I know, for we ought to get it for less, and it’s not reasonable and it’s not fair on us, but I’m damned if I can see why it’s difficult.”
“The difficulty may be very simply stated,” said Wayne. “You may offer a million and it will be very difficult for you to get Pump Street.”
“But look here, Mr. Wayne,” cried Barker, striking in with a kind of cold excitement. “Just look here. You’ve no right to take up a position like that. You’ve a right to stand out for a bigger price, but you aren’t doing that. You’re refusing what you and every sane8 man knows to be a splendid offer simply from malice9 or spite — it must be malice or spite. And that kind of thing is really criminal; it’s against the public good. The King’s Government would be justified10 in forcing you.”
With his lean fingers spread on the table, he stared anxiously at Wayne’s face, which did not move.
“In forcing you . . . it would,” he repeated.
“It shall,” said Buck, shortly, turning to the table with a jerk. “We have done our best to be decent.”
Wayne lifted his large eyes slowly.
“Was it my Lord Buck,” he inquired, “who said that the King of England ‘shall’ do something?”
Buck flushed and said testily11 —
“I mean it must — it ought to. As I say, we’ve done our best to be generous; I defy any one to deny it. As it is, Mr. Wayne, I don’t want to say a word that’s uncivil. I hope it’s not uncivil to say that you can be, and ought to be, in gaol12. It is criminal to stop public works for a whim13. A man might as well burn ten thousand onions in his front garden or bring up his children to run naked in the street, as do what you say you have a right to do. People have been compelled to sell before now. The King could compel you, and I hope he will.”
“Until he does,” said Wayne, calmly, “the power and government of this great nation is on my side and not yours, and I defy you to defy it.”
“In what sense,” cried Barker, with his feverish14 eyes and hands, “is the Government on your side?”
With one ringing movement Wayne unrolled a great parchment on the table. It was decorated down the sides with wild water-colour sketches15 of vestrymen in crowns and wreaths.
“The Charter of the Cities,” he began.
Buck exploded in a brutal16 oath and laughed.
“That tomfool’s joke. Haven’t we had enough —”
“And there you sit,” cried Wayne, springing erect17 and with a voice like a trumpet18, “with no argument but to insult the King before his face.”
Buck rose also with blazing eyes.
“I am hard to bully,” he began — and the slow tones of the King struck in with incomparable gravity —
“My Lord Buck, I must ask you to remember that your King is present. It is not often that he needs to protect himself among his subjects.”
Barker turned to him with frantic19 gestures.
“For God’s sake don’t back up the madman now,” he implored20. “Have your joke another time. Oh, for Heaven’s sake —”
“My Lord Provost of South Kensington,” said King Auberon, steadily21, “I do not follow your remarks, which are uttered with a rapidity unusual at Court. Nor do your well-meant efforts to convey the rest with your fingers materially assist me. I say that my Lord Provost of North Kensington, to whom I spoke22, ought not in the presence of his Sovereign to speak disrespectfully of his Sovereign’s ordinances23. Do you disagree?”
Barker turned restlessly in his chair, and Buck cursed without speaking. The King went on in a comfortable voice —
“My Lord Provost of Notting Hill, proceed.”
Wayne turned his blue eyes on the King, and to every one’s surprise there was a look in them not of triumph, but of a certain childish distress24.
“I am sorry, your Majesty,” he said; “I fear I was more than equally to blame with the Lord Provost of North Kensington. We were debating somewhat eagerly, and we both rose to our feet. I did so first, I am ashamed to say. The Provost of North Kensington is, therefore, comparatively innocent. I beseech25 your Majesty to address your rebuke26 chiefly, at least, to me. Mr. Buck is not innocent, for he did no doubt, in the heat of the moment, speak disrespectfully. But the rest of the discussion he seems to me to have conducted with great good temper.”
Buck looked genuinely pleased, for business men are all simple-minded, and have therefore that degree of communion with fanatics27. The King, for some reason, looked, for the first time in his life, ashamed.
“This very kind speech of the Provost of Notting Hill,” began Buck, pleasantly, “seems to me to show that we have at least got on to a friendly footing. Now come, Mr. Wayne. Five hundred pounds have been offered to you for a property you admit not to be worth a hundred. Well, I am a rich man and I won’t be outdone in generosity28. Let us say fifteen hundred pounds, and have done with it. And let us shake hands;” and he rose, glowing and laughing.
“Fifteen hundred pounds,” whispered Mr. Wilson of Bayswater; “can we do fifteen hundred pounds?”
“I’ll stand the racket,” said Buck, heartily29. “Mr. Wayne is a gentleman and has spoken up for me. So I suppose the negotiations30 are at an end.”
Wayne bowed.
“They are indeed at an end. I am sorry I cannot sell you the property.”
“What?” cried Mr. Barker, starting to his feet.
“Mr. Buck has spoken correctly,” said the King.
“I have, I have,” cried Buck, springing up also; “I said —”
“Mr. Buck has spoken correctly,” said the King; “the negotiations are at an end.”
All the men at the table rose to their feet; Wayne alone rose without excitement.
“Have I, then,” he said, “your Majesty’s permission to depart? I have given my last answer.”
“You have it,” said Auberon, smiling, but not lifting his eyes from the table. And amid a dead silence the Provost of Notting Hill passed out of the room.
“Well?” said Wilson, turning round to Barker —“well?”
Barker shook his head desperately31.
“The man ought to be in an asylum32,” he said. “But one thing is clear — we need not bother further about him. The man can be treated as mad.”
“Of course,” said Buck, turning to him with sombre decisiveness. “You’re perfectly33 right, Barker. He is a good enough fellow, but he can be treated as mad. Let’s put it in simple form. Go and tell any twelve men in any town, go and tell any doctor in any town, that there is a man offered fifteen hundred pounds for a thing he could sell commonly for four hundred, and that when asked for a reason for not accepting it he pleads the inviolate34 sanctity of Notting Hill and calls it the Holy Mountain. What would they say? What more can we have on our side than the common sense of everybody? On what else do all laws rest? I’ll tell you, Barker, what’s better than any further discussion. Let’s send in workmen on the spot to pull down Pump Street. And if old Wayne says a word, arrest him as a lunatic. That’s all.”
Barker’s eyes kindled35.
“I always regarded you, Buck, if you don’t mind my saying so, as a very strong man. I’ll follow you.”
“So, of course, will I,” said Wilson.
Buck rose again impulsively36.
“Your Majesty,” he said, glowing with popularity, “I beseech your Majesty to consider favourably37 the proposal to which we have committed ourselves. Your Majesty’s leniency38, our own offers, have fallen in vain on that extraordinary man. He may be right. He may be God. He may be the devil. But we think it, for practical purposes, more probable that he is off his head. Unless that assumption were acted on, all human affairs would go to pieces. We act on it, and we propose to start operations in Notting Hill at once.”
The King leaned back in his chair.
“The Charter of the Cities . . .,” he said with a rich intonation39.
But Buck, being finally serious, was also cautious, and did not again make the mistake of disrespect.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing, “I am not here to say a word against anything your Majesty has said or done. You are a far better educated man than I, and no doubt there were reasons, upon intellectual grounds, for those proceedings41. But may I ask you and appeal to your common good-nature for a sincere answer? When you drew up the Charter of the Cities, did you contemplate42 the rise of a man like Adam Wayne? Did you expect that the Charter — whether it was an experiment, or a scheme of decoration, or a joke — could ever really come to this — to stopping a vast scheme of ordinary business, to shutting up a road, to spoiling the chances of cabs, omnibuses, railway stations, to disorganising half a city, to risking a kind of civil war? Whatever were your objects, were they that?”
Barker and Wilson looked at him admiringly; the King more admiringly still.
“Provost Buck,” said Auberon, “you speak in public uncommonly43 well. I give you your point with the magnanimity of an artist. My scheme did not include the appearance of Mr. Wayne. Alas44! would that my poetic45 power had been great enough.”
“I thank your Majesty,” said Buck, courteously46, but quickly. “Your Majesty’s statements are always clear and studied; therefore I may draw a deduction47. As the scheme, whatever it was, on which you set your heart did not include the appearance of Mr. Wayne, it will survive his removal. Why not let us clear away this particular Pump Street, which does interfere48 with our plans, and which does not, by your Majesty’s own statement, interfere with yours.”
“Caught out!” said the King, enthusiastically and quite impersonally49, as if he were watching a cricket match.
“This man Wayne,” continued Buck, “would be shut up by any doctors in England. But we only ask to have it put before them. Meanwhile no one’s interests, not even in all probability his own, can be really damaged by going on with the improvements in Notting Hill. Not our interests, of course, for it has been the hard and quiet work of ten years. Not the interests of Notting Hill, for nearly all its educated inhabitants desire the change. Not the interests of your Majesty, for you say, with characteristic sense, that you never contemplated50 the rise of the lunatic at all. Not, as I say, his own interests, for the man has a kind heart and many talents, and a couple of good doctors would probably put him righter than all the free cities and sacred mountains in creation. I therefore assume, if I may use so bold a word, that your Majesty will not offer any obstacle to our proceeding40 with the improvements.”
And Mr. Buck sat down amid subdued51 but excited applause among the allies.
“Mr. Buck,” said the King, “I beg your pardon, for a number of beautiful and sacred thoughts, in which you were generally classified as a fool. But there is another thing to be considered. Suppose you send in your workmen, and Mr. Wayne does a thing regrettable indeed, but of which, I am sorry to say, I think him quite capable — knocks their teeth out?”
“I have thought of that, your Majesty,” said Mr. Buck, easily, “and I think it can simply be guarded against. Let us send in a strong guard of, say, a hundred men — a hundred of the North Kensington Halberdiers” (he smiled grimly), “of whom your Majesty is so fond. Or say a hundred and fifty. The whole population of Pump Street, I fancy, is only about a hundred.”
“Still they might stand together and lick you,” said the King, dubiously52.
“Then say two hundred,” said Buck, gaily53.
“It might happen,” said the King, restlessly, “that one Notting Hiller fought better than two North Kensingtons.”
“It might,” said Buck, coolly; “then say two hundred and fifty.”
The King bit his lip.
“And if they are beaten too?” he said viciously.
“Your Majesty,” said Buck, and leaned back easily in his chair, “suppose they are. If anything be clear, it is clear that all fighting matters are mere54 matters of arithmetic. Here we have a hundred and fifty, say, of Notting Hill soldiers. Or say two hundred. If one of them can fight two of us — we can send in, not four hundred, but six hundred, and smash him. That is all. It is out of all immediate55 probability that one of them could fight four of us. So what I say is this. Run no risks. Finish it at once. Send in eight hundred men and smash him — smash him almost without seeing him. And go on with the improvements.”
And Mr. Buck pulled out a bandanna56 and blew his nose.
“Do you know, Mr. Buck,” said the King, staring gloomily at the table, “the admirable clearness of your reason produces in my mind a sentiment which I trust I shall not offend you by describing as an aspiration57 to punch your head. You irritate me sublimely58. What can it be in me? Is it the relic59 of a moral sense?”
“But your Majesty,” said Barker, eagerly and suavely60, “does not refuse our proposals?”
“My dear Barker, your proposals are as damnable as your manners. I want to have nothing to do with them. Suppose I stopped them altogether. What would happen?”
Barker answered in a very low voice —
“Revolution.”
The King glanced quickly at the men round the table. They were all looking down silently: their brows were red.
He rose with a startling suddenness, and an unusual pallor.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “you have overruled me. Therefore I can speak plainly. I think Adam Wayne, who is as mad as a hatter, worth more than a million of you. But you have the force, and, I admit, the common sense, and he is lost. Take your eight hundred halberdiers and smash him. It would be more sportsmanlike to take two hundred.”
“More sportsmanlike,” said Buck, grimly, “but a great deal less humane61. We are not artists, and streets purple with gore62 do not catch our eye in the right way.”
“It is pitiful,” said Auberon. “With five or six times their number, there will be no fight at all.”
“I hope not,” said Buck, rising and adjusting his gloves. “We desire no fight, your Majesty. We are peaceable business men.”
“Well,” said the King, wearily, “the conference is at an end at last.”
And he went out of the room before any one else could stir.
Forty workmen, a hundred Bayswater Halberdiers, two hundred from South, and three from North Kensington, assembled at the foot of Holland Walk and marched up it, under the general direction of Barker, who looked flushed and happy in full dress. At the end of the procession a small and sulky figure lingered like an urchin63. It was the King.
“Barker,” he said at length, appealingly, “you are an old friend of mine — you understand my hobbies as I understand yours. Why can’t you let it alone? I hoped that such fun might come out of this Wayne business. Why can’t you let it alone? It doesn’t really so much matter to you — what’s a road or so? For me it’s the one joke that may save me from pessimism64. Take fewer men and give me an hour’s fun. Really and truly, James, if you collected coins or humming-birds, and I could buy one with the price of your road, I would buy it. I collect incidents — those rare, those precious things. Let me have one. Pay a few pounds for it. Give these Notting Hillers a chance. Let them alone.”
“Auberon,” said Barker, kindly65, forgetting all royal titles in a rare moment of sincerity66, “I do feel what you mean. I have had moments when these hobbies have hit me. I have had moments when I have sympathised with your humours. I have had moments, though you may not easily believe it, when I have sympathised with the madness of Adam Wayne. But the world, Auberon, the real world, is not run on these hobbies. It goes on great brutal wheels of facts — wheels on which you are the butterfly; and Wayne is the fly on the wheel.”
Auberon’s eyes looked frankly67 at the other’s.
“Thank you, James; what you say is true. It is only a parenthetical consolation68 to me to compare the intelligence of flies somewhat favourably with the intelligence of wheels. But it is the nature of flies to die soon, and the nature of wheels to go on for ever. Go on with the wheel. Good-bye, old man.”
And James Barker went on, laughing, with a high colour, slapping his bamboo on his leg.
The King watched the tail of the retreating regiment69 with a look of genuine depression, which made him seem more like a baby than ever. Then he swung round and struck his hands together.
“In a world without humour,” he said, “the only thing to do is to eat. And how perfect an exception! How can these people strike dignified70 attitudes, and pretend that things matter, when the total ludicrousness of life is proved by the very method by which it is supported? A man strikes the lyre, and says, ‘Life is real, life is earnest,’ and then goes into a room and stuffs alien substances into a hole in his head. I think Nature was indeed a little broad in her humour in these matters. But we all fall back on the pantomime, as I have in this municipal affair. Nature has her farces71, like the act of eating or the shape of the kangaroo, for the more brutal appetite. She keeps her stars and mountains for those who can appreciate something more subtly ridiculous.” He turned to his equerry. “But, as I said ‘eating,’ let us have a picnic like two nice little children. Just run and bring me a table and a dozen courses or so, and plenty of champagne72, and under these swinging boughs73, Bowler74, we will return to Nature.”
It took about an hour to erect in Holland Lane the monarch’s simple repast, during which time he walked up and down and whistled, but still with an unaffected air of gloom. He had really been done out of a pleasure he had promised himself, and had that empty and sickened feeling which a child has when disappointed of a pantomime. When he and the equerry had sat down, however, and consumed a fair amount of dry champagne, his spirits began mildly to revive.
“Things take too long in this world,” he said. “I detest75 all this Barkerian business about evolution and the gradual modification76 of things. I wish the world had been made in six days, and knocked to pieces again in six more. And I wish I had done it. The joke’s good enough in a broad way, sun and moon and the image of God, and all that, but they keep it up so damnably long. Did you ever long for a miracle, Bowler?”
“No, sir,” said Bowler, who was an evolutionist, and had been carefully brought up.
“Then I have,” answered the King. “I have walked along a street with the best cigar in the cosmos77 in my mouth, and more Burgundy inside me than you ever saw in your life, and longed that the lamp-post would turn into an elephant to save me from the hell of blank existence. Take my word for it, my evolutionary78 Bowler, don’t you believe people when they tell you that people sought for a sign, and believed in miracles because they were ignorant. They did it because they were wise, filthily79, vilely80 wise — too wise to eat or sleep or put on their boots with patience. This seems delightfully81 like a new theory of the origin of Christianity, which would itself be a thing of no mean absurdity83. Take some more wine.”
The wind blew round them as they sat at their little table, with its white cloth and bright wine-cups, and flung the tree-tops of Holland Park against each other, but the sun was in that strong temper which turns green into gold. The King pushed away his plate, lit a cigar slowly, and went on —
“Yesterday I thought that something next door to a really entertaining miracle might happen to me before I went to amuse the worms. To see that red-haired maniac84 waving a great sword, and making speeches to his incomparable followers85, would have been a glimpse of that Land of Youth from which the Fates shut us out. I had planned some quite delightful82 things. A Congress of Knightsbridge with a treaty, and myself in the chair, and perhaps a Roman triumph, with jolly old Barker led in chains. And now these wretched prigs have gone and stamped out the exquisite86 Mr. Wayne altogether, and I suppose they will put him in a private asylum somewhere in their damned humane way. Think of the treasures daily poured out to his unappreciative keeper! I wonder whether they would let me be his keeper. But life is a vale. Never forget at any moment of your existence to regard it in the light of a vale. This graceful87 habit, if not acquired in youth —”
The King stopped, with his cigar lifted, for there had slid into his eyes the startled look of a man listening. He did not move for a few moments; then he turned his head sharply towards the high, thin, and lath-like paling which fenced certain long gardens and similar spaces from the lane. From behind it there was coming a curious scrambling88 and scraping noise, as of a desperate thing imprisoned89 in this box of thin wood. The King threw away his cigar, and jumped on to the table. From this position he saw a pair of hands hanging with a hungry clutch on the top of the fence. Then the hands quivered with a convulsive effort, and a head shot up between them — the head of one of the Bayswater Town Council, his eyes and whiskers wild with fear. He swung himself over, and fell on the other side on his face, and groaned90 openly and without ceasing. The next moment the thin, taut91 wood of the fence was struck as by a bullet, so that it reverberated92 like a drum, and over it came tearing and cursing, with torn clothes and broken nails and bleeding faces, twenty men at one rush. The King sprang five feet clear off the table on to the ground. The moment after the table was flung over, sending bottles and glasses flying, and the débris was literally93 swept along the ground by that stream of men pouring past, and Bowler was borne along with them, as the King said in his famous newspaper article, “like a captured bride.” The great fence swung and split under the load of climbers that still scaled and cleared it. Tremendous gaps were torn in it by this living artillery94; and through them the King could see more and more frantic faces, as in a dream, and more and more men running. They were as miscellaneous as if some one had taken the lid off a human dustbin. Some were untouched, some were slashed95 and battered96 and bloody97, some were splendidly dressed, some tattered98 and half naked, some were in the fantastic garb99 of the burlesque100 cities, some in the dullest modern dress. The King stared at all of them, but none of them looked at the King. Suddenly he stepped forward.
“Barker,” he said, “what is all this?”
“Beaten,” said the politician —“beaten all to hell!” And he plunged101 past with nostrils102 shaking like a horse’s, and more and more men plunged after him.
Almost as he spoke, the last standing103 strip of fence bowed and snapped, flinging, as from a catapult, a new figure upon the road. He wore the flaming red of the halberdiers of Notting Hill, and on his weapon there was blood, and in his face victory. In another moment masses of red glowed through the gaps of the fence, and the pursuers, with their halberds, came pouring down the lane. Pursued and pursuers alike swept by the little figure with the owlish eyes, who had not taken his hands out of his pockets.
The King had still little beyond the confused sense of a man caught in a torrent104 — the feeling of men eddying105 by. Then something happened which he was never able afterwards to describe, and which we cannot describe for him. Suddenly in the dark entrance, between the broken gates of a garden, there appeared framed a flaming figure.
Adam Wayne, the conqueror106, with his face flung back, and his mane like a lion’s, stood with his great sword point upwards107, the red raiment of his office flapping round him like the red wings of an archangel. And the King saw, he knew not how, something new and overwhelming. The great green trees and the great red robes swung together in the wind. The sword seemed made for the sunlight. The preposterous108 masquerade, born of his own mockery, towered over him and embraced the world. This was the normal, this was sanity109, this was nature; and he himself, with his rationality and his detachment and his black frock-coat, he was the exception and the accident — a blot110 of black upon a world of crimson111 and gold.
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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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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pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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steadily
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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ordinances
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distress
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beseech
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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generosity
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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negotiations
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desperately
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asylum
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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inviolate
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| adj.未亵渎的，未受侵犯的 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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38
leniency
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| n.宽大（不严厉） | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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42
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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impersonally
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| ad.非人称地 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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51
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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bandanna
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| n.大手帕 | |
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aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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sublimely
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| 高尚地，卓越地 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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suavely
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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pessimism
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| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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farces
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| n.笑剧( farce的名词复数 )；闹剧；笑剧剧目；作假的可笑场面 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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evolutionary
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| adj.进化的；演化的，演变的；[生]进化论的 | |
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filthily
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| adv.污秽地，丑恶地，不洁地 | |
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vilely
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| adv.讨厌地，卑劣地 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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88
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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reverberated
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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94
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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95
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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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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98
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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99
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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100
burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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101
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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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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103
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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104
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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105
eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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106
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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107
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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108
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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109
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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110
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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111
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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