THAT afternoon Arthur felt the need of a long walk. He intrusted his luggage to a fellow-student and went to Leghorn on foot.
The day was damp and cloudy, but not cold; and the low, level country seemed to him fairer than he had ever known it to look before. He had a sense of delight in the soft elasticity1 of the wet grass under his feet and in the shy, wondering eyes of the wild spring flowers by the roadside. In a thorn-acacia bush at the edge of a little strip of wood a bird was building a nest, and flew up as he passed with a startled cry and a quick fluttering of brown wings.
He tried to keep his mind fixed2 upon the devout3 meditations4 proper to the eve of Good Friday. But thoughts of Montanelli and Gemma got so much in the way of this devotional exercise that at last he gave up the attempt and allowed his fancy to drift away to the wonders and glories of the coming insurrection, and to the part in it that he had allotted7 to his two idols8. The Padre was to be the leader, the apostle, the prophet before whose sacred wrath9 the powers of darkness were to flee, and at whose feet the young defenders10 of Liberty were to learn afresh the old doctrines11, the old truths in their new and unimagined significance.
And Gemma? Oh, Gemma would fight at the barricades12. She was made of the clay from which heroines are moulded; she would be the perfect comrade, the maiden13 undefiled and unafraid, of whom so many poets have dreamed. She would stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, rejoicing under the winged death-storm; and they would die together, perhaps in the moment of victory--without doubt there would be a victory. Of his love he would tell her nothing; he would say no word that might disturb her peace or spoil her tranquil14 sense of comradeship. She was to him a holy thing, a spotless victim to be laid upon the altar as a burnt-offering for the deliverance of the people; and who was he that he should enter into the white sanctuary15 of a soul that knew no other love than God and Italy?
God and Italy----Then came a sudden drop from the clouds as he entered the great, dreary16 house in the "Street of Palaces," and Julia's butler, immaculate, calm, and politely disapproving17 as ever, confronted him upon the stairs.
"Good-evening, Gibbons; are my brothers in?"
"Mr. Thomas is in, sir; and Mrs. Burton. They are in the drawing room."
Arthur went in with a dull sense of oppression. What a dismal18 house it was! The flood of life seemed to roll past and leave it always just above high-water mark. Nothing in it ever changed-- neither the people, nor the family portraits, nor the heavy furniture and ugly plate, nor the vulgar ostentation19 of riches, nor the lifeless aspect of everything. Even the flowers on the brass20 stands looked like painted metal flowers that had never known the stirring of young sap within them in the warm spring days. Julia, dressed for dinner, and waiting for visitors in the drawing room which was to her the centre of existence, might have sat for a fashion-plate just as she was, with her wooden smile and flaxen ringlets, and the lap-dog on her knee.
"How do you do, Arthur?" she said stiffly, giving him the tips of her fingers for a moment, and then transferring them to the more congenial contact of the lap-dog's silken coat. "I hope you are quite well and have made satisfactory progress at college."
Arthur murmured the first commonplace that he could think of at the moment, and relapsed into uncomfortable silence. The arrival of James, in his most pompous21 mood and accompanied by a stiff, elderly shipping-agent, did not improve matters; and when Gibbons announced that dinner was served, Arthur rose with a little sigh of relief.
"I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse me I will go to my room."
"You're overdoing22 that fasting, my boy," said Thomas; "I am sure you'll make yourself ill."
"Oh, no! Good-night."
In the corridor Arthur met the under housemaid and asked her to knock at his door at six in the morning.
"The signorino is going to church?"
"Yes. Good-night, Teresa."
He went into his room. It had belonged to his mother, and the alcove23 opposite the window had been fitted up during her long illness as an oratory24. A great crucifix on a black pedestal occupied the middle of the altar; and before it hung a little Roman lamp. This was the room where she had died. Her portrait was on the wall beside the bed; and on the table stood a china bowl which had been hers, filled with a great bunch of her favourite violets. It was just a year since her death; and the Italian servants had not forgotten her.
He took out of his portmanteau a framed picture, carefully wrapped up. It was a crayon portrait of Montanelli, which had come from Rome only a few days before. He was unwrapping this precious treasure when Julia's page brought in a supper-tray on which the old Italian cook, who had served Gladys before the harsh, new mistress came, had placed such little delicacies25 as she considered her dear signorino might permit himself to eat without infringing26 the rules of the Church. Arthur refused everything but a piece of bread; and the page, a nephew of Gibbons, lately arrived from England, grinned significantly as he carried out the tray. He had already joined the Protestant camp in the servants' hall.
Arthur went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix, trying to compose his mind to the proper attitude for prayer and meditation5. But this he found difficult to accomplish. He had, as Thomas said, rather overdone27 the Lenten privations, and they had gone to his head like strong wine. Little quivers of excitement went down his back, and the crucifix swam in a misty28 cloud before his eyes. It was only after a long litany, mechanically repeated, that he succeeded in recalling his wandering imagination to the mystery of the Atonement. At last sheer physical weariness conquered the feverish29 agitation30 of his nerves, and he lay down to sleep in a calm and peaceful mood, free from all unquiet or disturbing thoughts.
He was fast asleep when a sharp, impatient knock came at his door. "Ah, Teresa!" he thought, turning over lazily. The knock was repeated, and he awoke with a violent start.
"Signorino! signorino!" cried a man's voice in Italian; "get up for the love of God!"
Arthur jumped out of bed.
"What is the matter? Who is it?"
"It's I, Gian Battista. Get up, quick, for Our Lady's sake!"
Arthur hurriedly dressed and opened the door. As he stared in perplexity at the coachman's pale, terrified face, the sound of tramping feet and clanking metal came along the corridor, and he suddenly realized the truth.
"For me?" he asked coolly.
"For you! Oh, signorino, make haste! What have you to hide? See, I can put----"
"I have nothing to hide. Do my brothers know?"
The first uniform appeared at the turn of the passage.
"The signor has been called; all the house is awake. Alas31! what a misfortune--what a terrible misfortune! And on Good Friday! Holy Saints, have pity!"
Gian Battista burst into tears. Arthur moved a few steps forward and waited for the gendarmes32, who came clattering33 along, followed by a shivering crowd of servants in various impromptu34 costumes. As the soldiers surrounded Arthur, the master and mistress of the house brought up the rear of this strange procession; he in dressing35 gown and slippers36, she in a long peignoir, with her hair in curlpapers.
"There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts!"
The quotation37 flashed across Arthur's mind as he looked at the grotesque38 figures. He checked a laugh with a sense of its jarring incongruity--this was a time for worthier39 thoughts. "Ave Maria, Regina Coeli!" he whispered, and turned his eyes away, that the bobbing of Julia's curlpapers might not again tempt6 him to levity40.
"Kindly41 explain to me," said Mr. Burton, approaching the officer of gendarmerie, "what is the meaning of this violent intrusion into a private house? I warn you that, unless you are prepared to furnish me with a satisfactory explanation, I shall feel bound to complain to the English Ambassador."
"I presume," replied the officer stiffly, "that you will recognize this as a sufficient explanation; the English Ambassador certainly will." He pulled out a warrant for the arrest of Arthur Burton, student of philosophy, and, handing it to James, added coldly: "If you wish for any further explanation, you had better apply in person to the chief of police."
Julia snatched the paper from her husband, glanced over it, and flew at Arthur like nothing else in the world but a fashionable lady in a rage.
"So it's you that have disgraced the family!" she screamed; "setting all the rabble42 in the town gaping43 and staring as if the thing were a show? So you have turned jail-bird, now, with all your piety44! It's what we might have expected from that Popish woman's child----"
"You must not speak to a prisoner in a foreign language, madam," the officer interrupted; but his remonstrance45 was hardly audible under the torrent46 of Julia's vociferous47 English.
"Just what we might have expected! Fasting and prayer and saintly meditation; and this is what was underneath48 it all! I thought that would be the end of it."
Dr. Warren had once compared Julia to a salad into which the cook had upset the vinegar cruet. The sound of her thin, hard voice set Arthur's teeth on edge, and the simile49 suddenly popped up in his memory.
"There's no use in this kind of talk," he said. "You need not be afraid of any unpleasantness; everyone will understand that you are all quite innocent. I suppose, gentlemen, you want to search my things. I have nothing to hide."
While the gendarmes ransacked50 the room, reading his letters, examining his college papers, and turning out drawers and boxes, he sat waiting on the edge of the bed, a little flushed with excitement, but in no way distressed51. The search did not disquiet52 him. He had always burned letters which could possibly compromise anyone, and beyond a few manuscript verses, half revolutionary, half mystical, and two or three numbers of Young Italy, the gendarmes found nothing to repay them for their trouble. Julia, after a long resistance, yielded to the entreaties53 of her brother-in-law and went back to bed, sweeping54 past Arthur with magnificent disdain55, James meekly56 following.
When they had left the room, Thomas, who all this while had been tramping up and down, trying to look indifferent, approached the officer and asked permission to speak to the prisoner. Receiving a nod in answer, he went up to Arthur and muttered in a rather husky voice:
"I say; this is an infernally awkward business. I'm very sorry about it."
Arthur looked up with a face as serene57 as a summer morning. "You have always been good to me," he said. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I shall be safe enough."
"Look here, Arthur!" Thomas gave his moustache a hard pull and plunged58 head first into the awkward question. "Is--all this anything to do with--money? Because, if it is, I----"
"With money! Why, no! What could it have to do----"
"Then it's some political tomfoolery? I thought so. Well, don't you get down in the mouth--and never mind all the stuff Julia talks. It's only her spiteful tongue; and if you want help,--cash, or anything,--let me know, will you?"
Arthur held out his hand in silence, and Thomas left the room with a carefully made-up expression of unconcern that rendered his face more stolid59 than ever.
The gendarmes, meanwhile, had finished their search, and the officer in charge requested Arthur to put on his outdoor clothes. He obeyed at once and turned to leave the room; then stopped with sudden hesitation60. It seemed hard to take leave of his mother's oratory in the presence of these officials.
"Have you any objection to leaving the room for a moment?" he asked. "You see that I cannot escape and that there is nothing to conceal61."
"I am sorry, but it is forbidden to leave a prisoner alone."
"Very well, it doesn't matter."
He went into the alcove, and, kneeling down, kissed the feet and pedestal of the crucifix, whispering softly: "Lord, keep me faithful unto death."
When he rose, the officer was standing62 by the table, examining Montanelli's portrait. "Is this a relative of yours?" he asked.
"No; it is my confessor, the new Bishop63 of Brisighella."
On the staircase the Italian servants were waiting, anxious and sorrowful. They all loved Arthur for his own sake and his mother's, and crowded round him, kissing his hands and dress with passionate64 grief. Gian Battista stood by, the tears dripping down his gray moustache. None of the Burtons came out to take leave of him. Their coldness accentuated65 the tenderness and sympathy of the servants, and Arthur was near to breaking down as he pressed the hands held out to him.
"Good-bye, Gian Battista. Kiss the little ones for me. Good-bye, Teresa. Pray for me, all of you; and God keep you! Good-bye, good-bye!"
He ran hastily downstairs to the front door. A moment later only a little group of silent men and sobbing66 women stood on the doorstep watching the carriage as it drove away.
那天下午亚瑟感到有必要多散一会儿步。他把行李交给了一位同学，然后徒步走向里窝那。
那天湿度非常大，天上布满了乌云，但是并不冷。一望无际的平原在他看来仿佛比以前更加美丽。脚下踩着柔软的湿草，春天开放的野花在路旁露出羞答答的目光，这一切都让亚瑟感到赏心悦目。在一小片树林边上的一丛刺槐上，一只小鸟正在筑窝。当他走过的时候，那只小鸟吓得鸣叫一声，拍打着褐黄色的翅膀匆匆飞走了。
因为这是耶稣受难日的前一天，所以他试图集中思想，进行虔诚的默念。但是他却老是想着蒙泰尼里和琼玛，以至于他只得放弃这种虔诚的默念，任凭他的思绪随意想着即将到来的起义之种种奇迹和荣耀，并且想着他给他的两位偶像所安排的角色。神父将是领袖、使徒和先知，在他的圣怒之下，黑暗的力量将会逃之夭夭，在他振臂高呼下，保卫自由的青年将会温习旧的教义，并且将从一个全新的、未曾想象过的角度认识旧的真理。
琼玛呢？噢，琼玛将会冲锋在前。她是用塑造女英雄的材料铸造出来的，她会是一个完美的同志，她是无数诗人梦寐以求的那种无畏的坚女。她会和他肩并肩站在一起，在肆虐的死亡暴风雨中狂喜。他们会共赴死亡，也许是在取得胜利的时刻——毫无疑问将会取得胜利。他决不会向她对露他的爱情，他怕这样会影响她的内心宁静，或者破坏平淡之交的同志情谊。对他来说，她是一个圣洁的东西，一个无瑕的牺牲物，为了解救大众而被贡献到祭坛上焚化。他算是什么，竟敢走进只知热爱上帝和意大利的那片心灵洁白的圣地？
上帝和意大利——当他走进“宫殿街”中那座宏大、沉闷的住宅时，他在突然之间像从云端上坠落下来。朱丽亚的管家在楼梯上遇见了他，他还是那样穿着考究，神态安详，彬彬有礼，但却不把人放在眼里。
“晚上好，吉朋斯。我哥哥在家吗？”
“托马斯先生在家，先生。伯顿夫人也在家。他们都在客厅。”
亚瑟怀着沉重的心情走了进去。多么让人感到压抑的房子啊！生活的洪流好像绕它而去，总是让它留在高水位上。一切都没有变化——人没变，家族的画像也没变，笨重的家具和丑陋的餐具也没变，粗俗的豪华摆设也没变，一切什物不具生命的方方面面也没变。甚至连铜花瓶里的花看上去都像是抹了油彩的铁花，在春风和煦的日子里，从来不知焕发花的青春活力。朱丽亚身着进餐的装束，正在客厅里等着客人。
对她来说客厅就是生活的中心，她坐在里面就像是让人描绘时装图样，脸上挂着木然的笑容，头上盘了淡黄色的发卷，膝上趴着一只小狗。
“你好，亚瑟。”她生硬地说道，随即伸出手指让他握了一下，继而转去抚摸小狗柔软的皮毛，这种动作来得更加亲切。“我希望你一切都好，并在大学里取得了让人满意的成绩。”
亚瑟含糊不清地说了几句临时想起来的客套话，然后就陷入一种拘谨不安的沉默之中。杰姆斯气度不凡地走了进来，身边跟着一位不苟言笑、已经上了年纪的船运经纪人。他们来了以后也没有打破这种冷场面。当吉朋斯宣布开饭时，亚瑟站了起来，如释重负。
“我不吃饭了，朱丽亚。如果你不介意的话，我就回房间了。”
“你的斋戒也斋过头了，我的孩子。”托马斯说道，“这样下去，你肯定会生病的。”
“噢，不会的！晚安。”
亚瑟在走廊里遇见一位打下手的女佣人，请她在早晨六点钟敲门叫醒他。
“少爷要去教堂吗？”
“是的。晚安，特丽萨。”
他走进自己的屋子。这里原是母亲住的地方，在她久病不愈期间，窗户对面的神龛被改装成一个祈祷室，一个巨大的十字架带着黑色的底座占据圣坛的中间，坛前挂着一盏古罗马式的小吊灯。她就是在这里去世的。她的肖像就挂在床边的墙上，桌上摆着她曾用过的瓷钵，里面装着她心爱的紫罗兰花。她正好去世一年了，那些意大利仆人还没有忘记她。
他从手提包里取出一个包裹，里面精心装着一帧镶嵌了镜框的画像。这是蒙泰尼里的一张蜡笔肖像画，只是在前几天才从罗马寄来。他正在打开这件无价之宝的包装，这时朱丽亚的小厮端着一个盛有晚餐的托盘进来了。在新女主人到来之前侍候格拉迪丝的厨娘弄了一些小吃，她以为她的小主人也许在不犯教规的情况下肯吃这些小吃。亚瑟什么也不吃，只是拿了一块面包。那个小厮是吉朋斯的侄子，刚从英国过来。在他拿走托盘时，意味深长地笑笑。他已经加入了仆人之中的新教徒阵营。
亚瑟走进壁龛，在十字架前跪了下来。他试图静下心来，抱着祈祷和默念的正确态度。但是他发现很难做到这一点。正如托马斯所说的那样，他执行四旬斋戒过于严格了。他就像喝了烈性酒一样。阵阵轻微的兴奋从背上贯穿下去，眼前的十字架在云中翻滚。只是经过长时间的连续祈祷以后，机械地背诵经文，收回任意驰骋的思绪，聚精会神地思考赎罪的玄义。最后纯粹的体力疲劳压制了神经的狂热，使他摆脱了所有焦虑不安的念头，于是躺了下来，平静而又安详地睡着了。
他正沉睡着，突然响起了一阵急促的敲门声。“啊，特丽萨！”他一边想着一边懒洋洋翻了一个身。敲门声又响了起来，他猛地吓了一跳，并且醒了过来。
“少爷！少爷！”有人用意大利语喊道。“看在上帝的份上快点起来！”
亚瑟跳下了床。
“什么事啊？是谁啊？”
“是我，吉安·巴蒂斯塔。起来，快点，看在圣母的份上！”
亚瑟匆忙穿好衣服，然后打开了房门。当他带着困惑的眼睛注视马车夫那张苍白、惊慌的面孔时，从走廊那头传来了沉重的脚步声和锒铛的金属声。他突然明白了这是怎么一回事。
“是来抓我的？”他冷静地说道。
“是来抓你的！噢，少爷，快点！你有什么要藏的？瞧，我可以把——”
“我没有什么可藏的。我哥哥知道吗？”
第一个身穿制服的人出现在过道的另一头。
“老爷已被叫起来了，屋里所有的人都醒了。天啊！祸从天降——真是祸从天降啊！竟然是在神圣的星期五！贤明的众神啊，行行好吧！”
吉安·巴蒂斯塔情不自禁地哭了起来。亚瑟上前几步，等候着那些宪兵。他们走了过来，后面跟着一群瑟瑟发抖的仆人，身上穿着随手抓来的衣服。就在宪兵们围住亚瑟的时候，这家的主人和太太出现在这个奇异的行列后面。主人穿着睡衣和拖鞋，太太穿着长睡袍，头发扎着卷发纸。
“肯定又有一场洪水，这些两两结伴的人都在走向方舟！
这不，又来了一对怪异的野兽！”
亚瑟看到这些形态各异的人们，心里闪过这么一段话。他忍住没有笑出声来，因为感到这样很不合适——现在应该考虑更为重要的事情。“再见，圣母玛利亚，天国的女王！”他小声地说道，并把眼光转向别处，免得让朱丽亚头上跳动不已的卷发纸再次引起他做出轻率的举动。
“麻烦你给我解释一下，”伯顿先生走近那位宪兵军官，“这样堂而皇之地闯入私宅是什么意思？我警告你，除非你准备给我一个满意的解释，否则我就有责任向英国大使投诉。”
“我以为，”那位军官生硬地答道，“你会把这个当作是充足的解释，英国大使当然也会这么认为。”他取出一张逮捕证，上面写着亚瑟·伯顿的名字，并且注着是主修哲学的学生。他把它递给杰姆斯，并且冷冷地说道：“如果你希望得到进一步的解释，你最好还是亲自去找警察局长。”
朱丽亚从她丈夫手中一把抢过那张纸，扫了一眼，然后朝着亚瑟扔了过去，俨然像是一位勃然大怒的时髦女人。
“这么说是你给这个家丢人现眼了！”她尖声说道，“这下可让城里那些乌合之众大眼瞪小眼了，可以好好看上一场热闹！这么说你要坐班房了，你那么虔诚竟也落到这等地步！我们原本就该料到那个信奉天主教的女人养出的孩子——”
“你不能对犯人说外语，太太。”那位军官打断了她的话。
但是朱丽亚滔滔不绝，在她那一番连珠炮般的英语中，他的劝告根本就没人能听见。
“果真不出我们所料！又是斋戒，又是祈祷，又是虔诚的默念。骨子里干的就是这样的事情！我还以为也就如此，不会出什么事呢。”
华伦医生曾经把朱丽亚比作沙拉，厨子把醋瓶子打翻在里面了。她那尖刻而又刺耳的声音直让亚瑟怒不可遏，所以他突然想起了这个比喻。
“这种话你就用不着说了。”他说，“你不必害怕将会引起什么不愉快的事情，大家都明白你是一点干系都没有的。先生们，我看你们是想搜查我的东西吧。我没有私藏什么东西。”
宪兵们在他的房间里胡乱翻找，阅读他的信件，检查他在大学写的文章，倒空了抽屉和柜子。他坐在床边，因为兴奋而有些脸红，但是一点也不苦恼。搜查并没有使他感到心神不安。他总是烧毁那些可能危及任何人的信件，除了几首手抄的诗歌，半是革命性的，半是神秘性的，两三份《青年意大利》报，宪兵们折腾了一阵什么也没有发现。朱丽亚经不住小叔子的再三恳求，最后还是回床睡觉去了。她摆出鄙夷的神态，从亚瑟身边走过，杰姆斯乖乖地跟在后面。
托马斯一直在屋里踱来踱去，尽量装出不以为然的样子。
当他们走了以后，他走到那位军官面前，请求准许他同犯人说上几句话。得到对方点头同意以后，他走到亚瑟跟前，扯着略显沙哑的声音说道：“我说，这真是一件非常尴尬的事情。对此我深感遗憾。”
亚瑟抬起头来，脸上如同夏日的早晨那样镇静。“你对我一直很好，”他说，“对这事没有什么可遗憾的。我会平安无事的。”
“呃，亚瑟！”托马斯使劲一捋胡子，提出一个难以启口的问题。“是——这些是与——钱有关吗？因为，如果是的话，我——”
“与钱没有关系！噢，没有！怎么可能与——”
“那么是某种政治上的轻率举动吗？我是这么想的。呃，不要垂头丧气——也不要介意朱丽亚说的那些话。就是她那讨厌的舌头作怪。如果你需要我帮忙的话——现金或是别的什么——尽管跟我说一声，好吗？”
亚瑟默默地伸出他的手，托马斯离开了房间。他尽量装出一副无所谓的样子，这使他的脸显得冷漠。
宪兵们这时已经结束了搜查。那位负责的军官要求亚瑟穿上出门的衣服。他立即遵命照办，然后转身离开房间。这时他突然有些迟疑，并且停下了脚步，好像很难当着这些宪兵的面离开母亲的祈祷室。
“你们能否离开房间一会儿？”他问，“你们知道我逃不掉的，而且也没有什么地方可以藏身。”
“对不起，与这个倒没关系。”
他走进祈祷室，跪下身来，亲吻着蒙难耶稣的双脚和十字架的底座。他轻声说道：“主啊，让我至死不渝吧。”
当他站起身时，那位站在桌旁的军官正在查看蒙泰尼里的肖像。“这是你的亲戚吗？”他问道。
“不，是我的忏悔神父，布里西盖拉的新主教。”
那些意大利的仆人在楼梯上等着，又着急又伤心。他们全都喜爱亚瑟，因为他和他母亲都是好人。他们拥到他的身边，带着真切的悲痛亲吻他的双手和衣服。
吉安·巴蒂斯塔站在一边，眼泪顺着他那灰白的胡子流了下来。伯顿家的人没有一个出来送他。他们的冷淡越发突出了仆人的友善和同情心。当他握紧伸过来的手时，亚瑟快要哭出声来。
“再见。吉安·巴蒂斯塔。替我亲亲你家的小孩。再见，特丽萨。你们大家为我祈祷吧！再见，再见！”
他匆忙下了楼梯跑到前门。片刻之后，一群沉默的男人和抽泣的女人站在门口，望着马车开走。
收听单词发音 |
1
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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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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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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barricades
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| 路障，障碍物( barricade的名词复数 ) | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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overdoing
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| v.做得过分( overdo的现在分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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infringing
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的现在分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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worthier
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| 应得某事物( worthy的比较级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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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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rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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48
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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51
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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52
disquiet
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| n.担心，焦虑 | |
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entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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54
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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55
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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56
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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57
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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58
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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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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60
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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61
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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62
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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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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64
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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65
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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