I had a name, although at times Gustav Ungerland was no more real to me than Henry Day. The simple solution would have been to track down Tom McInnes and ask him for more details about what had been said under hypnosis. After finding the article in the library, I tried to locate its author but had no more to go on than the address in the magazine. Several weeks after receiving my letter, the editor of the defunct2 Journal of Myth and Society replied that he would be glad to forward it on to the professor, but nothing came of it. When I called his university, the chairman of the department said McInnes had vanished on a Monday morning, right in the middle of the semester, and left no forwarding address. My attempts at contacting Brian Ungerland proved equally frustrating3. I couldn't very well pester4 Tess for information about her old boyfriend, and after asking around town, someone told me that Brian was at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, with the U.S. Army, studying how to blow things up. There were no Ungerlands in our local phone book.
Fortunately, other things occupied my thoughts. Tess had talked me into going back to school, and I was to begin in January. She changed when I told her my plans, became more attentive5 and affectionate. We celebrated6 registering for classes by splurging on dinner and Christmas shopping in the city. Arm in arm, we walked the sidewalks downtown. In the windows of Kaufmann's Department Store, miniature animatronic scenes played out in an endless loop. Santa and his elves hammered at the same wooden bicycle. Skaters circled atop an icy mirror for all eternity7. We stopped and lingered before one display—a human family, baby in the bassinet, proud parents kissing under the mistletoe. Our own images reflected on and through the glass, superimposed over the mechanicals' domestic bliss8.
"Isn't that adorable? Look at how lifelike they made the baby. Doesn't she make you want to have one yourself?"
"Sure, if they were all as quiet as that one."
We strolled by the park, where a ragtag bunch of children queued up to a stand selling hot chocolate. We bought two cups and sat on a cold park bench. "You do like children, don't you?"
"Children? I never think about them."
"But wouldn't you want a son to take camping or a girl to call your own?"
"Call my own? People don't belong to other people."
"You're a very literal person sometimes."
"I don't think—"
"No, you don't. Most people pick up on subtleties9, but you operate in another dimension."
But I knew what she meant. I did not know if having a real human baby was possible. Or would it be half human, half goblin, a monster? A horrid10 creature with a huge head and shrunken body, or those dead eyes peering out beneath a sunbonnet. Or a misery11 that would turn on me and expose my secret. Yet Tess's warm presence on my arm had a curious tug12 on my conscience. Part of me desired to unpack13 the burdens of the past, to tell her all about Gustav Ungerland and my fugitive14 life in the forest. But so much time had passed since the change that at times I doubted that existence. All of my powers and skills learned a lifetime ago had disappeared, lost while endlessly playing the piano, faded in the comfort of warm beds and cozy15 living rooms, in the reality of this lovely woman beside me. Is the past as real as the present? Maybe I wish I had told everything, and that the truth had revised the course of life. I don't know. But I do remember the feeling of that night, the mixed sensation of great hope and bottomless foreboding.
Tess watched a group of children skating across a makeshift ice rink. She blew on her drink and sent a fog of steam into the air. "I've always wanted a baby of my own."
For once, I understood what another person was trying to tell me. With the music of a calliope harmonizing with the sound of children laughing under the stars, I asked her to marry me.
We waited until the end of spring semester and were married in May 1968 at the same church where Henry Day had been baptized as an infant. Standing16 at the altar, I felt almost human again, and in our vows17 existed the possibility for a happy ending. When we marched down the aisle18 I could see, in the smiling faces of all our friends and family, an unsuspecting joy for Mr. and Mrs. Henry Day. During the ceremony, I half expected that when the double doors opened to the daylight there would be a retinue19 of changelings waiting to take me away. I did my best to forget my past, to dismiss the thought that I was a fraud.
At the reception, my mother and Uncle Charlie were the first to greet us, and they had not only paid for the party but even made us a gift of a honeymoon20 in Europe. While we were away in Germany, they would elope together, but that afternoon it was passing strange to see him where Bill Day should have been. Nostalgia21 for my father was fleeting22, for we were leaving behind the past and claiming life. So much would change over the next few years. George Knoll23 would leave town a few weeks after the wedding to wander across the country for a year, and he ended up in San Francisco, running a sidewalk bistro with an older woman from Spain. With no Coverboys, Oscar would buy a jukebox that fall, and the customers would still flock in for drinks and pop music. Jimmy Cummings took my old job behind the bar. Even my baby sisters were growing up.
Mary and Elizabeth brought their latest boyfriends, a couple of long-haired twins, to the reception, and at the center of the party, Uncle Charlie regaled the crowd with his latest scheme. "Those houses up on the ridge24 are only the beginning. People are not merely going to move out of the cities; they're going to be moving as far away as they can. My company is sitting on a gold mine in this county."
My mother sidled up to him, and he put his arm around her waist and rested his hand on her hip25.
"When I first heard about the trouble up in the woods and sending in the National Guard, well, my first thought was that when the government was through, land would be dirt cheap."
She laughed so willingly at his pun that I flinched26. Tess squeezed my arm to prevent me from saying what I was thinking.
"Country living. Moderately priced, safe and secure, perfect for young couples looking to start a family." As if on cue, he and my mother stared right at Tess's belly27. Already they were full of hope.
Feigning innocence28, Elizabeth asked, "How about you two, Uncle Charlie?"
Tess squeezed my bottom, and I let out a tiny whoop29 just as Jimmy Cummings stepped up to speak. "I wouldn't want to live up there, man."
"Of course not, Jimmy," Mary said. "After all you went through in those woods."
"There's something up there," he told the party. "Did you hear the rumor30 about those wild little girls they found the other night?"
The guests began to drift off in pairs and start new conversations. Since his rescue of young Oscar Love, Jimmy had acquired a reputation for tiresome31 repetitions of the story, exaggerating details until it became a tall tale. When he launched into another yarn32, he was bound to be dismissed as merely another storyteller, desperate for attention. "No really," he said to the few of us remaining. "I heard the local fuzz found these two girls, 'bout1 six or seven, I hear, who had broken into the drugstore in the dead of night and smashed everything in sight. The cops were scared of those girls, said they were spooky as a pair of cats. Man, they could barely speak a word of English or any language known to man. Put two and two together. They were living up in the woods—remember that place I found Oscar? Maybe there are others up there. Put your mind around that. Like a whole lost tribe of wild children. It's a trip, man."
Elizabeth was staring at me when she asked him, "What happened to them? Where are those two girls?"
"Can't confirm or deny a rumor," he said, "and I didn't actually see them with my own two eyes, but I don't have to. Did you know the FBI came and took 'em away? To Washington, DC, and their secret labs, so they could study them."
I turned to Oscar, who stood slack-jawed, listening to Jimmy. "Are you sure you want this boy tending bar for you, Oscar? Seems like he's been hitting the bottle a bit too much."
Jimmy came right up to my face and said sotto voce, "Know the trouble with you, Henry? You lack imagination. But they're up there, man. You better freakin' believe it."
During the flight to Germany, dreams of changelings interrupted what sleep I could manage on the airplane. When Tess and I landed in damp and overcast33 Frankfurt, we had two different expectations for our honeymoon. Poor thing, she wanted adventure, excitement, and romance. Two young lovers traveling through Europe. Bistros, wine and cheese, jaunts34 on motorbikes. I was looking for a ghost and evidence of my past, but all I knew could be written on a cocktail35 napkin: Gustav Ungerland, 1859, Eger.
Immediately bewildered by the city, we found a small room in a pension on Mendelssohnstrasse. We were dazed by the sooty black elephant of the Hauptbahnhof, disgorging trains by the hour, and behind it the resurrected city, new steel and concrete skyscrapers36 rising from the ashes of the ruins. Americans were everywhere. Soldiers fortunate enough to have drawn37 duty guarding against Eastern Europe rather than fighting in Vietnam. Strung-out runaways38 in the Konstablerwache shooting up in broad daylight or begging for our spare change. Our first week together, we felt out of place between the soldiers and the junkies.
On Sunday we strolled over to the R?merberg, a papier-m?ché version of the medieval Alstadt that had been mostly bombed out by the Allies in the final months of the war. For the first time on our trip, the weather was bright and sunny, and we enjoyed a springtime street fair. On the carousel39 in the middle of the festival, Tess rode a zebra and I a griffin; then we held hands after lunch in the cafe as a strolling quartet played a song for us. As if the honeymoon had finally commenced, when we made love that night, our tiny room became a cozy paradise.
"This is more like it," she whispered in the dark. "How I imagined we would be together. I wish every day could be like today."
I sat up and lit a Camel. "I was wondering if maybe tomorrow we could go our own ways for a while. You know, have time to ourselves. Just think how much more we'll have to talk about when we're back together. There's stuff I'd like to do that might not be interesting to you, so I was thinking maybe I could get up a bit earlier and go out, and I'd be back, probably, by the time you woke up. See the National Library. You would be bored to tears."
"Cool out, Henry." She rolled over and faced the wall. "That sounds perfect. I'm getting a little tired of spending every minute together."
It took all morning to find the right train, then the right streets, and the address to the Deutsche Bibliothek, and another hour or so to find the map room. A charming young librarian with workable English helped me with the historical atlas40 and the seemingly thousands of alterations41 and border changes brought about by hundreds of years of war and peace, from the final days of the Holy Roman Empire through the Hessian principalities’ Reichstag to the divisions at the end of both world wars. She did not know Eger, could not I mil anyone in Reference that had heard of the town.
"Do you know," she finally asked, "if it is East Germany?"
I looked at my watch and discovered it was 4:35 in the afternoon. The library closed at 5:00 P.M., and a furious new wife would be waiting for me.
She scoured42 the map. "Ach, now I see. It's a river, not a town. Eger on the border." She pointed43 to a dot that read Cheb (Eger). "The town you are looking for isn't called Eger now, and it isn't in Germany. It's in Czechoslovakia." She licked her finger and paged back through the atlas to find another map. "Bohemia. Look here, in 1859 this was all Bohemia, from here to here. And Eger, right there. I have to say I much prefer the old name." Smiling, she rested her hand on my shoulder. "But we have found it. One place with two names. Eger is Cheb."
"So, how do I get to Czechoslovakia?"
"Unless you have the right papers, you don't." She could read my disappointment. "So, tell me, what is so important about Cheb?"
"I'm looking for my father," I said. "Gustav Ungerland." The radiance melted from her face. She looked at the floor between her feet. "Ungerland. Was he killed in the war? Sent to the camps?"
"No, no. We're Catholics. He's from Eger; I mean, Cheb. His family, that is. They emigrated to America in the last century."
"You might try the church records in Cheb, if you could get in." She raised one dark eyebrow44. "There may be a way."
We had a few drinks in a cafe, and she told me how to cross the line without being detected. Making my way back to Mendelssohnstrasse late that evening, I rehearsed a story to explain my long absence. Tess was asleep when I came in after ten, and I slid into bed beside her. She woke with a start, then rolled over and faced me on the pillow.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Lost in the library."
Lit by the moon, her face looked swollen45, as if she had been crying. "I'd like to get out of this gray city and see the countryside. Go hiking, sleep under the stars. Meet some real Germans."
"I know a place," I whispered, "filled with old castles and dark woods near the border. Let's sneak46 across and discover all their secrets."
我有名字，尽管有时候古斯塔夫·安格兰德对我而言并不比亨利·戴更真实。
最简单的解决方法是找到汤姆·麦克伊内斯，问出我被催眠时还说了些什么。找到图书馆那篇文章之后，我想顺藤摸瓜找到作者，但只能给杂志写信。收到我信几周后，该死的《神话与社会》的编辑回信说，他很乐意将我的信转给那位教授，但后来就没有下文了。我给他的大学打电话，系主任说麦克伊内斯在某个星期一早晨离开了，正好在期中这段时间，连地址都没有留下。我试图联系布瑞恩·安格兰德，但同样受挫。我不能缠着泰思问她前男友的事，而我问遍了镇子，打听到布瑞恩在俄克拉荷马州希尔堡的美国陆战队里学爆破。我们当地的电话簿上也没有姓安格兰德的人。
好在其他事情占据了我的胸怀。泰思说服我回校，我一月份入学了。我把自己的计划告诉她后，她就变了，变得越发温柔多情。为了庆祝我上学，我们大张旗鼓地吃了一顿，又去市里购买圣诞节的东西。我们挽着胳膊走在城市的人行道上。考夫曼百货商店的橱窗里，机械偶模型在不停地翻筋斗。圣诞老人和他的小精灵们在敲打一辆木制自行车。溜冰木偶不断地绕着滑溜的镜面转圈。我们久久地在一个装置前流连，这是一个人类的家庭，婴儿躺在摇篮里，骄傲的父母在槲寄生下亲吻。
我们的影像映在玻璃上，又透过玻璃叠加在正在享受家庭幸福的机械装置上。
“这可真让人羡慕! 看看他们把孩子做得活像真的。它有没有让你觉得也想要个自己的孩子呢? ”
“当然哕，如果他们也像这个一样安静的话。”
我们在公园里散步，各种各样的孩子在一个小摊前排队买热巧克力。我们买了两杯，坐在冷冷的公园长椅上。“你喜欢孩子的，是吗? ”
“孩子，我从来没想过。”
“你难道不想有个儿子，可以带出去野营的，或者有个女孩，把她称作自己的女儿? ”
“称作自己的? 人可不是属于另一个人的。”
“有时候你真是非常刻板的人。”
“我不觉得……”
“不，你就是。很多人纠缠鸡毛蒜皮的事，而你纠缠在另一方面。”
我知道她的意思。但我不知道有没有可能生下个人类的孩子。
说不定会是一个半人半妖的魔鬼? 长着巨大的脑袋和干瘪身体的东西，或者从太阳帽下露出死气沉沉的眼睛的怪物? 或者我会遭遇什么惨事，暴露自己的秘密?
但泰思挽着我手臂的那份温暖奇特地牵动了我的心。我有点渴望解开过去的束缚，把古斯塔夫·安格兰德的事和我在森林中的漂泊生活全部告诉她。但换生以来，时间过去了那么久，我有时都怀疑那些事情是否存在。我上辈子学到的魔力和法术都已经消失殆尽，消失在无休止的钢琴声中，消失在舒适温暖的床铺和温馨的起居室中，消失在我身边这个可爱的女人的陪伴中。
过去是否和现在一般真实? 也许我希望自己已经说出了一切，也希望这一真相已经改变了生活的轨迹。我不知道。但我记得那晚的感受，强烈的希望和莫名的恶兆交织在一起的悸动。
泰思看着一帮小孩在一个临时建成的溜冰场上滑冰。她喝了口饮料，在空气中啥出一道白汽。“我一直想要个自己的孩子。”
这一次，我理解了另一个人想要告诉我的事。星光下，孩子们的笑声和汽笛风琴的乐音糅合在一起。我向她求婚。
我们等到春季学期结束，在1968年5 月结婚，婚礼在亨利·戴襁褓中受洗礼的那个教堂举行。站在圣坛上，我再次觉得自己几乎是人类了，我们的宣誓预示着我们可能会走向美好的结局。我们走过过道时，我看到所有朋友和家人脸上都挂着微笑，他们无疑都在为亨利·戴夫妇高兴。我在仪式上想到，会不会两扇门一开，天光下站着一队换生灵等着把我带走。我尽力忘记过去，尽力挥去我是冒牌货的想法。
宴会上，母亲和查理叔叔率先过来祝福我们，他们不仅出钱办了婚宴，还让我们去欧洲度蜜月，以此作为新婚礼物。我们一去德国，他们就会一起私奔了，但那天下午，看到他站在比尔·戴该站的地方，倏然间就有些奇怪。对父亲的怀念一闪即逝，因为旧日已留在身后，生活才是我们的向往。未来几年，会有很大的变化。
乔治·克诺尔在婚礼后又过了几周，就去周游全国了，一走就是一年，他后来在旧金山和一个西班牙的大龄女子开了一家街头小酒馆。奥斯卡没有了“封面男孩”，就在那年秋天买了一台自动唱片点唱机，顾客们仍然会来喝酒听流行乐。吉米·卡明斯干起了我在吧台上的活儿。就连我的小妹妹们也长大了。
玛丽和伊丽莎白带来了她们最新的男友，一对头发长长的双胞胎。婚宴开到一半，查理叔叔说了他的最新计划，把大家逗乐了，“在山上造房子只是开个头。大家不但会走出城市，还能想走多远，就走多远。我的公司坐在这个国家的金矿上。”
我的母亲走到他身边，他用胳膊搂着她的腰，手搭在她臀部。
“我一听说森林里出了事，还派来了国民警卫队，嗯，我第一个念头就是这届政府下台后，土地会非常便宜。”
她为他一语双关而快活地大笑起来，我吃了一惊。泰思在我手臂上掐了一把，让我别把自己的想法说出来。
“在农村安居乐业。物价合适，安全有保障，最适合年轻夫妇生儿育女。”他和我母亲好像受了暗示似的，都盯着泰思的肚子。他们已经满怀希望了。
伊丽莎白装出一副天真样，问道：“查理叔叔，你们两位怎么样呢? ”
泰思在我屁股上掐了一把，我低低哼了一声。这时候吉米·卡明斯走过来说：
“我不想在这里生活，伙计。”
“当然不想了，吉米，”玛丽说，“你在那片森林里都碰到那种事了。”
“那里有种什么东西，”他对大家说，“你们有没有听到传闻，他们有天晚上找到了两个野小女孩? ”
客人三三两两走开，谈起新的话题。自从吉米救了小奥斯卡·拉甫后，人人都知道他毫不厌倦地一遍遍讲这个故事，夸大各种细节，最后成了吹牛皮。他一说别的故事，别人都以为他又来夸夸其谈了，无非要引起注意罢了。“千真万确，”他对我们几个留下来的人说，“我听见坊间对这两个女孩说三道四，大概六七岁，我听说，她们半夜闯入杂货店，把所有看得到的东西都弄得一塌糊涂。警察害怕这两个女孩，说她们就像两只猫一样的怪异。伙计，她们几乎一句英语都不会讲，别的人类的语言也不懂。根据现有情况判断，她们生活在森林里——还记得我找到奥斯卡的地方吗? 说不定还有别的住在那里。你想想看吧。就像一帮走失的野孩子。有一群呢，伙计。”
伊丽莎白看着我，问他：“她们怎么了? 那两个女孩在哪里? ”
“不能肯定也不能否定传闻，”他说，“我没有亲眼看到她们，但我也不必看到。你们知道联邦调查局来人把她们带走了吗? 带去了首都华盛顿，带到他们的秘密实验室，要研究她们。”
我向奥斯卡转过头去，他正张口结舌地听吉米说话，“奥斯卡，你真要这家伙替你照看酒吧吗? 他好像酒喝有点过头了。”
吉米走到我面前，低声说道：“知道你有什么问题吗，亨利? 你缺乏想像力。
但她们在那里，伙计。你最好他妈的相信这事。”
在飞往德国的航班上，我好不容易睡着，又一再被换生灵的梦境惊醒。泰思和我降落在阴雨绵绵的法兰克福，我们对蜜月有不同的打算。可怜的东西，她想要冒险、刺激和浪漫。一对年轻的爱人周游欧洲。小咖啡馆，葡萄酒和干酪，坐摩托车短途旅行。我却寻找着我过去的鬼魂和证据，但我所知道的一切可以在一块鸡尾酒餐巾上写下来：古斯塔夫·安格兰德，1859年，埃格尔。
我们在门德尔松大街的一家私人小旅店里找了一间房，立刻就对这个城市感到不知所措。我们被煤烟熏黑的巨大火车站惊呆了，它每小时都吞吐着火车，后面站着复兴的城市，新的钢筋混凝土摩天大楼在废墟上造起来。到处都是美国人。士兵运气不赖，没有去越南打仗，而被拉来防范东欧。康斯塔普勒瓦赫一队队的逃亡者大白天朝天开枪，或者向我们讨要零钱。第一个星期，我们在士兵和吸毒者中间觉得很不是味道。
星期天，我们在罗马堡散步，在战争的最后几个月，这个不堪一击的中世纪古城几乎被联军炸平。在我们这趟行程中，天气第一次放晴了，太阳出来了，我们在春季的街道集市中游赏。节日里有一场热闹的酒会，泰思骑了匹斑马，我骑了一头怪兽。在咖啡馆吃完饭后，我们手牵着手逛街，一个巡回四重奏乐队给我们表演了一首歌曲。仿佛蜜月终于拉开序幕，当晚我俩做爱了，我们小小的房间变成了温馨的天堂。
“这样更像了，”她在黑暗中低声说道，“更像我想像中我们在一起的样子。
我希望每天都能像今天一样。”
我坐起来点了支骆驼香烟，“我想也许明天我们可以做点自己的事情。嗯，留点时间给自己。想想看反正回去后来日方长。我有些事情要办，可能你毫无兴趣，所以我想我或许可以起得早些，然后大概在你醒来时回来。去看看国家图书馆。你会厌烦死的。”
“快去吧，亨利，”她翻了个身面向墙壁，“听上去太棒了。每时每刻都在一起，我有点厌了。”
整个上午，我都在寻找去往德国图书馆的地铁、路线和地址，随后又花了一个小时找到地图室。一位迷人的年轻图书管理员操着一口马马虎虎的英语帮我寻找历史地图，从神圣罗马帝国末年到黑森公国的德意志帝国再到两次世界大战后的分裂，似乎有成千上万处地名和边界在数百年战与和之中变动了。她不知道埃格尔，咨询室里也没有一个人听说过那个镇子。
“你知不知道，”她最后问，“那个地方是在东德吗? ”
我看了看表，发现已是下午4 点35分。图书馆5 点关门，还有一个生气的新婚妻子在等我。
她飞快地查看地图，“啊，我知道了。那是一条河，不是一个镇子。埃格尔在边境线上。”她指着一个点，上面写着恰布( 埃格尔) 。
“你找的那个镇子现在不叫埃格尔了，也不在德国境内。它在捷克斯洛伐克。”
她舔了舔手指，翻动地图册找到另一张地图。“波希米亚。
看这儿，1859年这里都是波希米亚的地方，从这边到这边。埃格尔就在这里。
我得说，我更喜欢老地名。”她微笑着把手放在我肩上，“我们找到了。一个地方，两个名字。埃格尔就是恰布。”
“那么，我该怎么去捷克斯洛伐克? ”
“除非你有必需的证件，否则去不了。”她看出我的失望，“好了，告诉我，恰布有什么事那么重要? ”
“我在找我父亲，”我说，“古斯塔夫·安格兰德。”
她脸上的神采慢慢消失，看着脚下的地板：“安格兰德。他是在战争中被杀的吗? 送到了集中营? ”
“不是，不是。我们是天主教徒。他是从埃格尔来的，我是说，恰布。他的家人，上个世纪移民到了美国。”
“你可以去查一下恰布教堂的记录，如果你能进去的话。”她抬起一条黑色的眉毛，“这或许是个办法。”
我们在咖啡馆里喝了几杯饮料，她告诉我该怎么穿过边境线而不被发现。那天很晚我才回到门德尔松大街，我准备好了一个故事来解释我为何去了那么久。我十点后进门时，泰思已经睡着了，我悄悄地上床躺在她身边。她惊醒过来，翻过身在枕头上看着我。
“对不起，”我说，“在图书馆迷路了。”
月光下，她的脸肿着，好像哭过。“我要离开这个灰色的城市，去看乡村景色。
去徒步旅行吧，在星空下睡觉。去碰见一些真正的德国人。”
“我知道一个地方，”我轻声说，“那里都是古堡和黑森林，靠近边境线。我们偷偷过去，去发现它们的秘密。”
收听单词发音 |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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defunct
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| adj.死亡的；已倒闭的 | |
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frustrating
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| adj.产生挫折的，使人沮丧的，令人泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的现在分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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pester
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| v.纠缠，强求 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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unpack
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| vt.打开包裹（或行李），卸货 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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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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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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jaunts
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| n.游览( jaunt的名词复数 ) | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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skyscrapers
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| n.摩天大楼 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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runaways
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| （轻而易举的）胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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carousel
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| n.旋转式行李输送带 | |
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atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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42
scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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