"Is the mistress in, Katie?"
"Yes, sir; she is dressing1. If you'll just step into the parlour she will be down in a few minutes."
Katie ushered2 the visitor in with the cheerful friendliness3 of a true Devonshire girl. Martini was a special favourite of hers. He spoke4 English, like a foreigner, of course, but still quite respectably; and he never sat discussing politics at the top of his voice till one in the morning, when the mistress was tired, as some visitors had a way of doing. Moreover, he had come to Devonshire to help the mistress in her trouble, when her baby was dead and her husband dying there; and ever since that time the big, awkward, silent man had been to Katie as much "one of the family" as was the lazy black cat which now ensconced itself upon his knee. Pasht, for his part, regarded Martini as a useful piece of household furniture. This visitor never trod upon his tail, or puffed6 tobacco smoke into his eyes, or in any way obtruded7 upon his consciousness an aggressive biped personality. He behaved as a mere8 man should: provided a comfortable knee to lie upon and purr, and at table never forgot that to look on while human beings eat fish is not interesting for a cat. The friendship between them was of old date. Once, when Pasht was a kitten and his mistress too ill to think about him, he had come from England under Martini's care, tucked away in a basket. Since then, long experience had convinced him that this clumsy human bear was no fair-weather friend.
"How snug9 you look, you two!" said Gemma, coming into the room. "One would think you had settled yourselves for the evening."
Martini carefully lifted the cat off his knee. "I came early," he said, "in the hope that you will give me some tea before we start. There will probably be a frightful10 crush, and Grassini won't give us any sensible supper--they never do in those fashionable houses."
"Come now!" she said, laughing; "that's as bad as Galli! Poor Grassini has quite enough sins of his own to answer for without having his wife's imperfect housekeeping visited upon his head. As for the tea, it will be ready in a minute. Katie has been making some Devonshire cakes specially11 for you."
"Katie is a good soul, isn't she, Pasht? By the way, so are you to have put on that pretty dress. I was afraid you would forget."
"I promised you I would wear it, though it is rather warm for a hot evening like this."
"It will be much cooler up at Fiesole; and nothing else ever suits you so well as white cashmere. I have brought you some flowers to wear with it."
"Oh, those lovely cluster roses; I am so fond of them! But they had much better go into water. I hate to wear flowers."
"Now that's one of your superstitious12 fancies."
"No, it isn't; only I think they must get so bored, spending all the evening pinned to such a dull companion."
"I am afraid we shall all be bored to-night. The conversazione will be dull beyond endurance."
"Why?"
"Partly because everything Grassini touches becomes as dull as himself."
"Now don't be spiteful. It is not fair when we are going to be a man's guests."
"You are always right, Madonna. Well then, it will be dull because half the interesting people are not coming."
"How is that?"
"I don't know. Out of town, or ill, or something. Anyway, there will be two or three ambassadors and some learned Germans, and the usual nondescript crowd of tourists and Russian princes and literary club people, and a few French officers; nobody else that I know of--except, of course, the new satirist13, who is to be the attraction of the evening."
"The new satirist? What, Rivarez? But I thought Grassini disapproved14 of him so strongly."
"Yes; but once the man is here and is sure to be talked about, of course Grassini wants his house to be the first place where the new lion will be on show. You may be sure Rivarez has heard nothing of Grassini's disapproval15. He may have guessed it, though; he's sharp enough."
"I did not even know he had come."
"He only arrived yesterday. Here comes the tea. No, don't get up; let me fetch the kettle."
He was never so happy as in this little study. Gemma's friendship, her grave unconsciousness of the charm she exercised over him, her frank and simple comradeship were the brightest things for him in a life that was none too bright; and whenever he began to feel more than usually depressed18 he would come in here after business hours and sit with her, generally in silence, watching her as she bent19 over her needlework or poured out tea. She never questioned him about his troubles or expressed any sympathy in words; but he always went away stronger and calmer, feeling, as he put it to himself, that he could "trudge20 through another fortnight quite respectably." She possessed21, without knowing it, the rare gift of consolation22; and when, two years ago, his dearest friends had been betrayed in Calabria and shot down like wolves, her steady faith had been perhaps the thing which had saved him from despair.
On Sunday mornings he sometimes came in to "talk business," that expression standing23 for anything connected with the practical work of the Mazzinian party, of which they both were active and devoted24 members. She was quite a different creature then; keen, cool, and logical, perfectly25 accurate and perfectly neutral. Those who saw her only at her political work regarded her as a trained and disciplined conspirator26, trustworthy, courageous27, in every way a valuable member of the party, but somehow lacking in life and individuality. "She's a born conspirator, worth any dozen of us; and she is nothing more," Galli had said of her. The "Madonna Gemma" whom Martini knew was very difficult to get at.
"Well, and what is your 'new satirist' like?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder as she opened the sideboard. "There, Cesare, there are barley-sugar and candied angelica for you. I wonder, by the way, why revolutionary men are always so fond of sweets."
"Other men are, too, only they think it beneath their dignity to confess it. The new satirist? Oh, the kind of man that ordinary women will rave16 over and you will dislike. A sort of professional dealer28 in sharp speeches, that goes about the world with a lackadaisical29 manner and a handsome ballet-girl dangling30 on to his coat-tails."
"Do you mean that there is really a ballet-girl, or simply that you feel cross and want to imitate the sharp speeches?"
"The Lord defend me! No; the ballet-girl is real enough and handsome enough, too, for those who like shrewish beauty. Personally, I don't. She's a Hungarian gipsy, or something of that kind, so Riccardo says; from some provincial31 theatre in Galicia. He seems to be rather a cool hand; he has been introducing the girl to people just as if she were his maiden32 aunt."
"Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away from her home."
"You may look at things that way, dear Madonna, but society won't. I think most people will very much resent being introduced to a woman whom they know to be his mistress."
"How can they know it unless he tells them so?"
"It's plain enough; you'll see if you meet her. But I should think even he would not have the audacity33 to bring her to the Grassinis'."
"They wouldn't receive her. Signora Grassini is not the woman to do unconventional things of that kind. But I wanted to hear about Signor Rivarez as a satirist, not as a man. Fabrizi told me he had been written to and had consented to come and take up the campaign against the Jesuits; and that is the last I have heard. There has been such a rush of work this week."
"I don't know that I can tell you much more. There doesn't seem to have been any difficulty over the money question, as we feared there would be. He's well off, it appears, and willing to work for nothing."
"Has he a private fortune, then?" "Apparently34 he has; though it seems rather odd--you heard that night at Fabrizi's about the state the Duprez expedition found him in. But he has got shares in mines somewhere out in Brazil; and then he has been immensely successful as a feuilleton writer in Paris and Vienna and London. He seems to have half a dozen languages at his finger-tips; and there's nothing to prevent his keeping up his newspaper connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits won't take all his time."
"That's true, of course. It's time to start, Cesare. Yes, I will wear the roses. Wait just a minute."
She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses in the bosom35 of her dress, and a long scarf of black Spanish lace thrown over her head. Martini surveyed her with artistic36 approval.
"You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like the great and wise Queen of Sheba."
"What an unkind speech!" she retorted, laughing; "when you know how hard I've been trying to mould myself into the image of the typical society lady! Who wants a conspirator to look like the Queen of Sheba? That's not the way to keep clear of spies."
"You'll never be able to personate the stupid society woman if you try for ever. But it doesn't matter, after all; you're too fair to look upon for spies to guess your opinions, even though you can't simper and hide behind your fan like Signora Grassini."
"Now Cesare, let that poor woman alone! There, take some more barley-sugar to sweeten your temper. Are you ready? Then we had better start."
Martini had been quite right in saying that the conversazione would be both crowded and dull. The literary men talked polite small-talk and looked hopelessly bored, while the "nondescript crowd of tourists and Russian princes" fluttered up and down the rooms, asking each other who were the various celebrities37 and trying to carry on intellectual conversation. Grassini was receiving his guests with a manner as carefully polished as his boots; but his cold face lighted up at the sight of Gemma. He did not really like her and indeed was secretly a little afraid of her; but he realized that without her his drawing room would lack a great attraction. He had risen high in his profession, and now that he was rich and well known his chief ambition was to make of his house a centre of liberal and intellectual society. He was painfully conscious that the insignificant38, overdressed little woman whom in his youth he had made the mistake of marrying was not fit, with her vapid39 talk and faded prettiness, to be the mistress of a great literary salon40. When he could prevail upon Gemma to come he always felt that the evening would be a success. Her quiet graciousness of manner set the guests at their ease, and her very presence seemed to lay the spectre of vulgarity which always, in his imagination, haunted the house.
Signora Grassini greeted Gemma affectionately, exclaiming in a loud whisper: "How charming you look to-night!" and examining the white cashmere with viciously critical eyes. She hated her visitor rancourously, for the very things for which Martini loved her; for her quiet strength of character; for her grave, sincere directness; for the steady balance of her mind; for the very expression of her face. And when Signora Grassini hated a woman, she showed it by effusive41 tenderness. Gemma took the compliments and endearments42 for what they were worth, and troubled her head no more about them. What is called "going into society" was in her eyes one of the wearisome and rather unpleasant tasks which a conspirator who wishes not to attract the notice of spies must conscientiously43 fulfil. She classed it together with the laborious44 work of writing in cipher45; and, knowing how valuable a practical safeguard against suspicion is the reputation of being a well-dressed woman, studied the fashion-plates as carefully as she did the keys of her ciphers46.
The bored and melancholy47 literary lions brightened up a little at the sound of Gemma's name; she was very popular among them; and the radical48 journalists, especially, gravitated at once to her end of the long room. But she was far too practised a conspirator to let them monopolize49 her. Radicals50 could be had any day; and now, when they came crowding round her, she gently sent them about their business, reminding them with a smile that they need not waste their time on converting her when there were so many tourists in need of instruction. For her part, she devoted herself to an English M. P. whose sympathies the republican party was anxious to gain; and, knowing him to be a specialist on finance, she first won his attention by asking his opinion on a technical point concerning the Austrian currency, and then deftly51 turned the conversation to the condition of the Lombardo-Venetian revenue. The Englishman, who had expected to be bored with small-talk, looked askance at her, evidently fearing that he had fallen into the clutches of a blue-stocking; but finding that she was both pleasant to look at and interesting to talk to, surrendered completely and plunged52 into as grave a discussion of Italian finance as if she had been Metternich. When Grassini brought up a Frenchman "who wishes to ask Signora Bolla something about the history of Young Italy," the M. P. rose with a bewildered sense that perhaps there was more ground for Italian discontent than he had supposed.
Later in the evening Gemma slipped out on to the terrace under the drawing-room windows to sit alone for a few moments among the great camellias and oleanders. The close air and continually shifting crowd in the rooms were beginning to give her a headache. At the further end of the terrace stood a row of palms and tree-ferns, planted in large tubs which were hidden by a bank of lilies and other flowering plants. The whole formed a complete screen, behind which was a little nook commanding a beautiful view out across the valley. The branches of a pomegranate tree, clustered with late blossoms, hung beside the narrow opening between the plants.
In this nook Gemma took refuge, hoping that no one would guess her whereabouts until she had secured herself against the threatening headache by a little rest and silence. The night was warm and beautifully still; but coming out from the hot, close rooms she felt it cool, and drew her lace scarf about her head.
Presently the sounds of voices and footsteps approaching along the terrace roused her from the dreamy state into which she had fallen. She drew back into the shadow, hoping to escape notice and get a few more precious minutes of silence before again having to rack her tired brain for conversation. To her great annoyance53 the footsteps paused near to the screen; then Signora Grassini's thin, piping little voice broke off for a moment in its stream of chatter54.
The other voice, a man's, was remarkably55 soft and musical; but its sweetness of tone was marred56 by a peculiar57, purring drawl, perhaps mere affectation, more probably the result of a habitual58 effort to conquer some impediment of speech, but in any case very unpleasant.
"English, did you say?" it asked. "But surely the name is quite Italian. What was it-- Bolla?"
"Yes; she is the widow of poor Giovanni Bolla, who died in England about four years ago,-- don't you remember? Ah, I forgot--you lead such a wandering life; we can't expect you to know of all our unhappy country's martyrs--they are so many!"
Signora Grassini sighed. She always talked in this style to strangers; the role of a patriotic59 mourner for the sorrows of Italy formed an effective combination with her boarding-school manner and pretty infantine pout60.
"Died in England!" repeated the other voice. "Was he a refugee, then? I seem to recognize the name, somehow; was he not connected with Young Italy in its early days?"
"Yes; he was one of the unfortunate young men who were arrested in '33--you remember that sad affair? He was released in a few months; then, two or three years later, when there was a warrant out against him again, he escaped to England. The next we heard was that he was married there. It was a most romantic affair altogether, but poor Bolla always was romantic."
"And then he died in England, you say?"
"Yes, of consumption; he could not stand that terrible English climate. And she lost her only child just before his death; it caught scarlet61 fever. Very sad, is it not? And we are all so fond of dear Gemma! She is a little stiff, poor thing; the English always are, you know; but I think her troubles have made her melancholy, and----"
Gemma stood up and pushed back the boughs62 of the pomegranate tree. This retailing63 of her private sorrows for purposes of small-talk was almost unbearable64 to her, and there was visible annoyance in her face as she stepped into the light.
"Ah! here she is!" exclaimed the hostess, with admirable coolness. "Gemma, dear, I was wondering where you could have disappeared to. Signor Felice Rivarez wishes to make your acquaintance."
"So it's the Gadfly," thought Gemma, looking at him with some curiosity. He bowed to her decorously enough, but his eyes glanced over her face and figure with a look which seemed to her insolently65 keen and inquisitorial.
"You have found a d-d-delightful66 little nook here," he remarked, looking at the thick screen; "and w-w-what a charming view!"
"Yes; it's a pretty corner. I came out here to get some air."
"It seems almost ungrateful to the good God to stay indoors on such a lovely night," said the hostess, raising her eyes to the stars. (She had good eyelashes and liked to show them.) "Look, signore! Would not our sweet Italy be heaven on earth if only she were free? To think that she should be a bond-slave, with such flowers and such skies!"
"And such patriotic women!" the Gadfly murmured in his soft, languid drawl.
Gemma glanced round at him in some trepidation68; his impudence69 was too glaring, surely, to deceive anyone. But she had underrated Signora Grassini's appetite for compliments; the poor woman cast down her lashes67 with a sigh.
"Ah, signore, it is so little that a woman can do! Perhaps some day I may prove my right to the name of an Italian--who knows? And now I must go back to my social duties; the French ambassador has begged me to introduce his ward5 to all the notabilities; you must come in presently and see her. She is a most charming girl. Gemma, dear, I brought Signor Rivarez out to show him our beautiful view; I must leave him under your care. I know you will look after him and introduce him to everyone. Ah! there is that delightful Russian prince! Have you met him? They say he is a great favourite of the Emperor Nicholas. He is military commander of some Polish town with a name that nobody can pronounce. Quelle nuit magnifique! N'est-ce-pas, mon prince?"
She fluttered away, chattering70 volubly to a bull-necked man with a heavy jaw71 and a coat glittering with orders; and her plaintive72 dirges73 for "notre malheureuse patrie," interpolated with "charmant" and "mon prince," died away along the terrace.
Gemma stood quite still beside the pomegranate tree. She was sorry for the poor, silly little woman, and annoyed at the Gadfly's languid insolence74. He was watching the retreating figures with an expression of face that angered her; it seemed ungenerous to mock at such pitiable creatures.
"There go Italian and--Russian patriotism75," he said, turning to her with a smile; "arm in arm and mightily76 pleased with each other's company. Which do you prefer?"
She frowned slightly and made no answer.
"Of c-course," he went on; "it's all a question of p-personal taste; but I think, of the two, I like the Russian variety best--it's so thorough. If Russia had to depend on flowers and skies for her supremacy77 instead of on powder and shot, how long do you think 'mon prince' would k-keep that Polish fortress78?"
"I think," she answered coldly, "that we can hold our personal opinions without ridiculing79 a woman whose guests we are."
"Ah, yes! I f-forgot the obligations of hospitality here in Italy; they are a wonderfully hospitable80 people, these Italians. I'm sure the Austrians find them so. Won't you sit down?"
He limped across the terrace to fetch a chair for her, and placed himself opposite to her, leaning against the balustrade. The light from a window was shining full on his face; and she was able to study it at her leisure.
She was disappointed. She had expected to see a striking and powerful, if not pleasant face; but the most salient points of his appearance were a tendency to foppishness in dress and rather more than a tendency to a certain veiled insolence of expression and manner. For the rest, he was as swarthy as a mulatto, and, notwithstanding his lameness81, as agile83 as a cat. His whole personality was oddly suggestive of a black jaguar84. The forehead and left cheek were terribly disfigured by the long crooked85 scar of the old sabre-cut; and she had already noticed that, when he began to stammer86 in speaking, that side of his face was affected87 with a nervous twitch88. But for these defects he would have been, in a certain restless and uncomfortable way, rather handsome; but it was not an attractive face.
Presently he began again in his soft, murmuring purr ("Just the voice a jaguar would talk in, if it could speak and were in a good humour," Gemma said to herself with rising irritation).
"I hear," he said, "that you are interested in the radical press, and write for the papers."
"I write a little; I have not time to do much."
"Ah, of course! I understood from Signora Grassini that you undertake other important work as well."
Gemma raised her eyebrows89 slightly. Signora Grassini, like the silly little woman she was, had evidently been chattering imprudently to this slippery creature, whom Gemma, for her part, was beginning actually to dislike.
"My time is a good deal taken up," she said rather stiffly; "but Signora Grassini overrates the importance of my occupations. They are mostly of a very trivial character."
"Well, the world would be in a bad way if we ALL of us spent our time in chanting dirges for Italy. I should think the neighbourhood of our host of this evening and his wife would make anybody frivolous90, in self-defence. Oh, yes, I know what you're going to say; you are perfectly right, but they are both so deliciously funny with their patriotism.--Are you going in already? It is so nice out here!"
"I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf? Thank you."
He had picked it up, and now stood looking at her with wide eyes as blue and innocent as forget-me-nots in a brook91.
"I know you are offended with me," he said penitently92, "for fooling that painted-up wax doll; but what can a fellow do?"
"Since you ask me, I do think it an ungenerous and--well--cowardly thing to hold one's intellectual inferiors up to ridicule93 in that way; it is like laughing at a cripple, or------"
He caught his breath suddenly, painfully; and shrank back, glancing at his lame82 foot and mutilated hand. In another instant he recovered his self-possession and burst out laughing.
"That's hardly a fair comparison, signora; we cripples don't flaunt94 our deformities in people's faces as she does her stupidity. At least give us credit for recognizing that crooked backs are no pleasanter than crooked ways. There is a step here; will you take my arm?"
She re-entered the house in embarrassed silence; his unexpected sensitiveness had completely disconcerted her.
Directly he opened the door of the great reception room she realized that something unusual had happened in her absence. Most of the gentlemen looked both angry and uncomfortable; the ladies, with hot cheeks and carefully feigned95 unconsciousness, were all collected at one end of the room; the host was fingering his eye-glasses with suppressed but unmistakable fury, and a little group of tourists stood in a corner casting amused glances at the further end of the room. Evidently something was going on there which appeared to them in the light of a joke, and to most of the guests in that of an insult. Signora Grassini alone did not appear to have noticed anything; she was fluttering her fan coquettishly and chattering to the secretary of the Dutch embassy, who listened with a broad grin on his face.
Gemma paused an instant in the doorway96, turning to see if the Gadfly, too, had noticed the disturbed appearance of the company. There was no mistaking the malicious97 triumph in his eyes as he glanced from the face of the blissfully unconscious hostess to a sofa at the end of the room. She understood at once; he had brought his mistress here under some false colour, which had deceived no one but Signora Grassini.
The gipsy-girl was leaning back on the sofa, surrounded by a group of simpering dandies and blandly98 ironical99 cavalry100 officers. She was gorgeously dressed in amber101 and scarlet, with an Oriental brilliancy of tint102 and profusion103 of ornament104 as startling in a Florentine literary salon as if she had been some tropical bird among sparrows and starlings. She herself seemed to feel out of place, and looked at the offended ladies with a fiercely contemptuous scowl105. Catching106 sight of the Gadfly as he crossed the room with Gemma, she sprang up and came towards him, with a voluble flood of painfully incorrect French.
"M. Rivarez, I have been looking for you everywhere! Count Saltykov wants to know whether you can go to his villa107 to-morrow night. There will be dancing."
"I am sorry I can't go; but then I couldn't dance if I did. Signora Bolla, allow me to introduce to you Mme. Zita Reni."
The gipsy glanced round at Gemma with a half defiant108 air and bowed stiffly. She was certainly handsome enough, as Martini had said, with a vivid, animal, unintelligent beauty; and the perfect harmony and freedom of her movements were delightful to see; but her forehead was low and narrow, and the line of her delicate nostrils109 was unsympathetic, almost cruel. The sense of oppression which Gemma had felt in the Gadfly's society was intensified110 by the gypsy's presence; and when, a moment later, the host came up to beg Signora Bolla to help him entertain some tourists in the other room, she consented with an odd feeling of relief.
. . . . .
"Well, Madonna, and what do you think of the Gadfly?" Martini asked as they drove back to Florence late at night. "Did you ever see anything quite so shameless as the way he fooled that poor little Grassini woman?"
"About the ballet-girl, you mean?"
"Yes, he persuaded her the girl was going to be the lion of the season. Signora Grassini would do anything for a celebrity111."
"I thought it an unfair and unkind thing to do; it put the Grassinis into a false position; and it was nothing less than cruel to the girl herself. I am sure she felt ill at ease."
"You had a talk with him, didn't you? What did you think of him?"
"Oh, Cesare, I didn't think anything except how glad I was to see the last of him. I never met anyone so fearfully tiring. He gave me a headache in ten minutes. He is like an incarnate112 demon113 of unrest."
"I thought you wouldn't like him; and, to tell the truth, no more do I. The man's as slippery as an eel17; I don't trust him."
“凯蒂，女主人在家吗？”
“在的，先生。她在穿衣。您请去客厅等吧，她一会儿就下楼。”
凯蒂带着德文郡姑娘那种欢快友好的态度把客人迎了进来。她特别喜欢马尔蒂尼。他会说英语，当然说起话来像个外国人，但是仍然十分得体。在女主人疲倦的时候，他从来不会坐在那里扯着嗓门大谈政治，一直能折腾到清晨一点。有些客人则不然。此外他曾到过德文郡，帮助过女主人排忧解难。当时她的小孩死了，丈夫也在那里生命垂危。打那时起，凯蒂就把这位身材高大、笨手笨脚、沉默寡言的人差不多当作是这个家里的成员，就跟现在蜷伏在他膝上的那只懒洋洋的黑猫一样。帕希特则把马尔蒂尼当作是一件有用的家具。这位客人从来都不踩它的尾巴，也不把烟往它的眼里吹，而且也不和它过不去。他的一举一动就像个绅士：让它躺在舒服的膝上打着呼噜，上桌吃饭的时候，从来不会忘记人类吃鱼的时候，猫在一旁观望会觉得没意思的。他们之间的友谊由来已久。当帕希特还是一只小猫时，有一次女主人病得厉害，没有心思想到它。还是马尔蒂尼照顾了它，把它塞在篮子里，从英国带了过来。从那以后，漫长的经历使它相信，这个像熊一样笨拙的人不是一个只能同甘不能共苦的朋友。
“你们俩看上去倒挺惬意，”琼玛走进屋子说道，“人家会以为你们这样安顿下来，是要消磨这个晚上呢。”
马尔蒂尼小心翼翼地把猫从膝上抱了下来。“我来早了一点，”他说，“希望我们在动身之前，你能让我喝点茶。那边的人可能多得要命，格拉西尼不会给我们准备像样的晚餐——身居豪华府第的人们从来都不会的。”
“来吧！”她笑着说道，“你说起话来就像加利一样刻薄！可怜的格拉西尼，就是不算他的妻子不善持家，他也是罪孽深重啊。茶一会儿就好。凯蒂还特意为你做了一些德文郡的小饼。”
“凯蒂是个好人，帕希特，对吗？噢，你还是穿上了这件漂亮的裙子。我担心你会忘了。”
“我答应过要穿的，尽管今晚这么热，穿上不大舒服。”
“到了菲耶索尔，天气会凉下来的。没有什么比白羊绒衫这样适合你了。我给你带来了一些鲜花，你可以戴上。”
“噢，多么可爱的玫瑰啊。太让我喜欢了！最好还是把它们放进水里。我讨厌戴花。”
“这是你迷信，想入非非。”
“不，不是。只是我认为整个晚上，陪伴我这么一个沉闷的人，它们会觉得乏味的。”
“恐怕我们今晚都会觉得乏味的。这次晚会一定乏味得让人受不了。”
“为什么？”
“部分原因是格拉西尼碰到的东西就会变得像他那样乏味。”
“别这样说话不饶人。我们是到他家去做客，这样说他就有欠公平了。”
“你总是对的，夫人。那好，之所以乏味是因为有趣的人有一半不去。”
“这是怎么回事？”
“我不知道。到别的地方去啦，生病啦，或是出于别的什么原因。反正会有两三位大使和一些德国学者，照例还有一群难以名状的游客和俄国王子及文学俱乐部的人士，还有几位法国军官。我谁也不认识——当然了，除了那位新来的讽刺作家以外。他会是今晚众人瞩目的中心。”
“那位新来的讽刺作家？是里瓦雷兹吗？在我看来，格拉西尼对他可是很不赞成。”
“那是。但是一旦那个人到了这里，人们肯定会谈起他来。所以格拉西尼当然想让他的家成为那头新来的狮子露面的第一个场所。你放心好了，里瓦雷兹肯定还没有听到格拉西尼不赞成的话。他也许已经猜到了，他可是一个精明的人。”
“我甚至都不知道他已经到了。”
“他是昨天才到的。茶来了。别，别起来了。让我去拿茶壶吧。”
在这间小书房里，他总是那样快乐。琼玛的友谊，她在不知不觉之间对他流露出来的魅力，她那直率而又纯朴的同志之情，这些对他来说都是并不壮丽的一生中最壮丽的东西。
每当他感到异乎平常的郁闷时，他就会在工作之余来到这里，坐在她的身边。通常他是一句话也不说，望着她低头做着针线活或者斟茶。她从来都不问他遇上了什么麻烦，也不用言语表示她的同情。但是在他离去时，他总是觉得更加坚强，更加平静，就像他常对自己说的那样，觉得他能“十分体面地熬过另外两个星期”。她并不知道她具备一种体恤他人的罕见才能。两年以前，他那帮好友在卡拉布里亚被人出卖了，并像屠杀野狼一样被枪杀了。也许就是她那种坚定的信念才把他从绝望之中挽救出来。
在星期天的早晨，有时他会进来“谈谈正事”。这个说法代表了与玛志尼党的实际工作有关的一切事情，他们都是积极忠诚的党员。那时她就变成一个截然不同的人：敏锐，冷静，思维缜密，一丝不苟，完全是置之度外。那些仅仅看到她从事政治工作的人把她看成是一位训练有素、纪律严明的革命党人，可靠、勇敢，不管从哪个方面来说都是一位难得的党员。“她天生就是一位革命党人，顶得上我们十几个人。别的她什么也不是。”加利曾经这么评价她。马尔蒂尼所认识的“琼玛夫人”，别人是很难理解的。
“呃，你们那位‘新来的讽刺作家’是什么模样？”她在打开食品柜时回过头来问道。“你瞧，塞萨雷，这是给你的麦芽糖和蜜饯当归。我只是顺便说一句，我就纳闷为什么干革命的男人都那么喜欢吃糖。”
“其他的男人也喜欢吃糖，只是他们觉得承认这一点有失尊严。那位新来的讽刺作家吗？噢，他是那种会让寻常的女人着迷的人，你不会喜欢他的。他这个人尤其擅长讲出刻薄的话来，装出一副懒洋洋的样子满世界游荡，后面还紧跟着一位跳芭蕾舞的漂亮姑娘。”
“真有一位跳芭蕾舞姑娘吗？你不是因为生气，也想模仿刻薄的话吧？”
“我的天啊！不。确实有个跳芭蕾舞的姑娘。有人喜欢泼辣大方的美女，对于他们来说，她长得确实相当出众。可我却不喜欢。她是个匈牙利吉卜赛人，或者是诸如此类的一个人吧。里卡尔多是这么说的。来自加利西亚的某个外省剧院。他显得非常坦然，总是把她介绍给别人，好像是他的一个未出嫁的小姑。”
“嗨，如果是他们她从家里带出来的，那么这样才叫公平嘛。”
“你可以这么看，亲爱的夫人，但是社会上可并不这么看。我想，在他把她介绍给别人时，大多数人会感到心里不痛快的，他们知道她是他的情妇。”
“除非他告诉了他们，否则他们怎么能知道呢？”
“事情明摆着，你见了她以后就明白了。可我还是认为他没有那么大的胆子，竟会把她带到格拉西尼的家中。”
“他们不会接待她的。格拉西尼夫人这样的人不会做出违背礼俗的事件。但是我想了解的是作为讽刺作家的里瓦雷兹，而不是这个人本身。法布里齐告诉我，他在接到信以后表示同意过来，并且开展对耶稣会派教士的斗争。我听到的就是这些情况。这个星期工作太多，忙得不可开交。”
“我不知道我能告诉你多少情况。在钱的问题上似乎没有什么困难，我们原先还担心这一点呢。他很有钱，看来是这么回事。他愿意不计报酬地工作。”
“那么他有一笔私人财产了？”
“他显然是有的，尽管似乎有些奇怪——那天晚上在法布里齐家里，你听到过杜普雷兹探险队发现他时他的境况。但是他持有巴西某个矿山的股票，而且身为一名专栏作家，他在巴黎、维也纳和伦敦都是非常成功的。他看来能够熟练地运用十几种语言，就是在这里也无法阻止他跟别处的报纸联系。抨击耶稣会教士不会占用他的所有时间。”
“那当然。该动身了，塞萨雷。对了，我还是戴上玫瑰吧。等我一下。”
她跑上楼去，回来的时候已在裙子的前襟别上了玫瑰，头上还围着一条镶有西班牙式黑边的长围巾。马尔蒂尼打量着她，像个艺术家似的表示赞许。
“你看上去就像是一位女王，我亲爱的女士，就像是那位伟大而聪明的示巴女王。”
“这话说得也太不客气了！”她笑着反驳道，“你可知道让我打扮成像模像样的社交女士对我来说有多难！谁想让一个革命党人看上去像示巴女王一样？想要摆脱暗探，这也是一个办法。”
“就是你刻意去模仿，你也永远学不了那些愚昧至极的社交女流。但是话说回来，这也没有什么关系。你看起来那么漂亮，暗探也猜不出你的观点如何。即便如此，你也不会一个劲儿地傻笑，并用扇子掩住自己，就像格拉西尼夫人那样。”
“好了，塞萨雷，别去说那个可怜的女人了！哎，吃些麦芽糖，好让你的脾气变得甜起来。准备好了吗？那么我们最好还是动身吧。”
马尔蒂尼说得十分正确，晚会确实拥挤而又乏味。那些文人彬彬有礼地聊着天儿，看起来实在没意思。“那群难以名状的游客和俄国王子”在屋里走来走去，相互打听谁是名人，并且试图大谈阳春白雪。格拉西尼正在接待他的客人，态度非常矜持，就像他那双擦得锃亮的靴子一样。但是看见琼玛以后，他的脸上顿时有了神采。他并不真的喜欢她，私下还有点怕她。但是他认识到没有了她，他的客厅就会黯然失色。
他在事业上已经爬到了很高的地步，现在他已经富了，有了名声。他主要的雄心就是让他的家成为开明人士和知识分子聚集的中心。他在年轻的时候犯了一个错误，娶了这么一个不足挂齿、穿着花哨的女人，她说起话来平淡无味，而且已经人老珠黄。她并不适合担当一个伟大的文学沙龙的女主人，这使得他感到非常痛苦。当他可以说服琼玛前来的话，他就觉得晚会将会取得成功。她那种娴静文雅的风度会让客人无拘无束。在他的想象之中，她来了以后，就能一扫屋子里的这种俗不可耐的氛围。
格拉西尼夫人热情欢迎琼玛，大声地对她耳语道：“你今晚看上去真迷人！”同时她还不怀好意，带着挑剔的目光打量那件白羊绒衫。她极其憎恨这位客人，憎恨她那坚强的个性、她那庄重而又真诚的直率、她那沉稳的心态和她脸上的表情。
而马尔蒂尼正是因为这些才爱她。当格拉西尼夫人憎恨一个女人时，她是用溢于言表的温情表现出来的。琼玛对这套恭维和亲昵抱着姑且听之的态度。所谓的“社交活动”在她看来是一件腻烦而不愉快的任务，可是如果不想引起暗探注意，一名革命党人却又必须有意识地完成这样的任务。她把这看作是和用密码书写的繁重工作同类的事情。她知道穿着得体所赢得的名声难能可贵，这会使她基本不受怀疑。因此她就仔细地研究时装画片，就像她研究密码一样。
听到有人提到琼玛的名字，那些百无聊赖、郁郁寡欢的文学名流马上就来了精神。他们非常愿意和她交往。特别是那些激进的记者，他们马上就从屋子的那头聚集过来，拥到了她的跟前。但是她是一位练达的革命党人，不会任由他们摆布。什么时候都能遇到激进分子。这会儿他们聚集在她周围，而她则委婉地劝说他们去各忙各的，微笑着提醒他们不必浪费时间拉拢她了，还有那么多的游客等着聆听他们的训导呢。她专心致志地陪着一位英国议员，共和党正急着争取他的同情。她知道他是一位金融方面的专家。她先是提出了一个涉及奥地利货币的技术性问题，因而赢得了他的注意。然后她又巧妙地将话题转到伦巴第与威尼斯政府财政收支的状况上来。那位英国人原本以为会被闲谈搅得百无聊赖，所以他斜着眼睛看着她，害怕自己落到一个女学者的手里。但是她落落大方，谈吐不俗，所以他完全心悦诚服，并且和她认真地讨论起了意大利的金融问题。格拉西尼领来一位法国人，那人“希望打听一下意大利青年党历史的某些情况”。那位议员惶恐不安地站了起来，他感到意大利人之所以不满，个中的理由也许比他所想的更多。
那天傍晚的晚些时候，琼玛溜到了客厅窗外的阳台上，想在高大的山茶花和夹竹桃中间独自坐上几分钟。屋里密不透风，老是有人来回走动，所以她开始感到头痛。在阳台的另一端立着一行棕榈树和凤尾蕉，全都种在隐藏在一排百合花及别的植物旁边的大缸里。所有的花木组成了一道屏风，后面是一个可以俯瞰对面山谷美景的角落。石榴树的枝干结着迟开的花蕾，垂挂在植物之间狭窄的缝隙边。
琼玛待在这个角落里，希望没有人会猜到她在什么地方，并且希望在她打起精神去应付那种要命的头痛事情之前，她能休息一会儿，清静一会儿。和暖的夜晚静悄悄的，美丽极了。但是走出闷热的房间，她感到有些凉意，于是就把那条镶边的围巾裹在头上。
很快就从阳台上传来说话声和脚步声，将她从矇眬的睡意中吵醒过来。她退缩到阴影之中，希望不会引起别人的注意，并在再次劳累她那疲惫的大脑和人说话之前，她还能争取宝贵的几分钟清静一下。脚步声停在那道屏风附近，这使她感到很恼火。随后格拉西尼夫人打住了她那尖细的声音，不再喋喋不休地鼓噪。
另一个是男人的声音，极其柔和悦耳。但是甜美的音调有些美中不足，因为说起话来很是独特，含混不清地拖腔拖调。也许只是装成这样，更有可能是为了纠正口吃而养成的习惯，但是不管怎样听着都不舒服。
“你说她是英国人吗？”那个声音问道，“可这是一个地道的意大利名字。什么来着——波拉？”
“对。她是可怜的乔万尼·波拉的遗孀，波拉约在四年前死在英国——你不记得吗？噢，我忘了——你过着这样一种漂流四方的生活，我们不能指望你知道我们这个不幸的国家所有的烈士——这样的人也太多了！”
格拉西尼夫人叹息了一声。她在和陌生人说话时总是这样。就像是为意大利而忧伤不已的仁人志士，那副神情还带着寄宿学校女生的派头和小孩子的撒娇。
“死在英国！”那个声音重复道，“那么他是避难去了？我好像有点熟悉这个名字。他和早期的青年意大利党有关系吗？”
“对。三三年不幸被捕的那批青年当中，他就是其中之一——你还记得那起悲惨的事件吗？他在几个月后被释放出来，过了两三年以后又对他下了逮捕令，于是他就逃到了英国。后来我听说他们在那里结了婚。一段非常浪漫的恋情，但是可怜的波拉一贯都很浪漫。”
“你是说然后他就死在英国？”
“对，是死于肺病。他受不了英国那种可怕的气候。在他临死之前，她失去了她唯一的孩子。小孩得了猩红热。很惨，是吗？我们都很喜欢亲爱的琼玛！她有点冷漠，可怜的人。你知道英国人总是这样。但是我认为是她的那些麻烦事才使她变得郁郁寡欢，而且——”
琼玛站了起来，推开石榴树的枝头。为了闲聊竟然散布她那不幸的遭遇，这对她来说是不可忍受的。当她走进亮处时，她的脸上露出了恼怒的神色。
“啊！她在这儿呢！”女主人大声叫道，带着令人钦佩的镇静。“琼玛，亲爱的，我还在纳闷你躲到哪儿去了呢。费利斯·里瓦雷兹先生希望认识你。”
“这位说来就是牛虻了。”琼玛想道，她带有一丝好奇看着他。他很有礼貌地朝她鞠了一躬，但是他的眼睛却在盯着她的脸庞和身段。那种目空一切的眼神在她看来锐利无比，他正在上下打量着她。
“你在这里找到了一个其、其乐陶陶的角落。”他看着那道屏风感慨地说道，“景色真、真美啊！”
“对，确实是个美丽的地方。我出来就是为了吸点新鲜的空气。”
“这么一个美妙的夜晚，待在屋里好像有点辜负仁慈的上帝了。”女主人抬眼望着星星说道，（她长着好看的睫毛，所以喜欢让人看到。）“看，先生！如果意大利成了一个自由的国度，那么她不就是人间天堂吗？她有着这样的花朵，这样的天空，可是竟然沦为奴隶！”
“而且还有这样爱国的女士！”牛虻喃喃地说道，拖着柔和而又懒散的声音。
琼玛猛然一惊，回过头来看着他。他也太放肆了，这一点当然谁也骗不过去。但是她低估了格拉西尼夫人对赞誉的胃口。那位女人叹息一声，垂下了她的睫毛。
“哎，先生，一个女人不会有多大作为！也许有一天我会证明我不愧为一位意大利人——谁知道呢？可是现在我必须回去，履行我的社会职责。那位法国大使恳请我把他的养女介绍给所有的名流，过一会儿你一定要进去见见她。她是一个非常迷人的姑娘。琼玛，亲爱的，我把里瓦雷兹先生带出来欣赏我们这里的美景。我必须把他交给你了。我知道你会照顾他的，并把他介绍给大家。啊！那个讨人喜欢的俄国王子来了！你们见过他吗？他们说他深受尼古拉一世的宠爱。他在某个波兰城镇担任军事指挥官，那个地名谁也叫不出来。Quellenuitmagnifique！N’est－est－pas，monprince？”［法语：多么美好的夜晚！不是么，我的王子？］她飘然而去，滔滔不绝地对着一个粗脖子的男人说着话儿。那人的下巴堆满了肉，外套缀满了闪亮的勋章。她那悲悼“notremal－heureusepatrie”［法语：我们不幸的祖国］的哀哀其声夹杂着“charmant”［法语：魅力］和“monprince”［法语：我的王子］，渐渐消失在阳台的那头。
琼玛静静地站在石榴树的旁边。她为那位可怜而又愚蠢的小个女人感到于心不忍，并对牛虻那种懒散的傲慢感到恼怒。他正在观察着她走去的身影，脸上流露的表情使她很生气。嘲笑这样的人显得太不大度了。
“意大利和俄国的爱国主义走了，”他说，随即转过头来微微一笑，“手挽着手，因为有了对方相伴而感到大喜过望。你喜欢哪一个？”
她略微皱起了眉头，没有回答。
“当然了，”他接着说道，“这是个、个人喜好的问题。但是我认为在他们两个中间，我还是更喜欢俄国那种爱国主义——彻底。如果俄国必须依靠花朵和天空取得霸权，而不是火药和子弹，你认为‘monprince’能把波兰的要塞守住多久呢？”
“我认为，”她冷冷地答道，“我们坚持我们的意见，可是不必取笑一位招待我们这些客人的女人。”
“噢，对！我忘、忘了在意大利这个地方，还有好客的义务。他们是一个非常好客的民族，这些意大利人。我相信澳大利亚人会发现他们的这个特点。你不坐下吗？”
他一瘸一拐地走到阳台那头，为她取过一把椅子，然后站在她的对面，靠在栏杆上。从窗户里照出的灯光映在他的脸上，因而她能漫不经心地端详起这张脸来。
她感到很失望。她原本以为即使他的脸不讨人喜欢，那么她也能看到一张异乎寻常而又坚定有力的脸。但是他的外表突出之处是他倾向于身穿华丽的衣服，而且表情和态度隐含的某种傲慢决非是一种倾向。撇开这些东西，他就像是一个黑白种的混血儿，皮肤黝黑。尽管他是个瘸子，但他就像猫一样敏捷。不知为了什么，他的整个性格让人想起了一只黑色的美洲豹。因为曾被马刀砍过而留下了长长的一道弯曲的伤疤，所以他的前额和左颊已经破了相。她已经注意到在他说话开始结巴时，他的脸部神经就会痉挛。要不是有了这些缺陷，尽管他显得有点浮躁，并且让人觉得有点不大自在。
他长得还是相当漂亮的。但是那绝不是一张吸引人的脸。
他很快就又开口说话，声音轻而含混。（“要是美洲豹能够说话，并且来了兴致，那么声音就像这样。”琼玛暗自说道，越来越生气。）
“我听说，”他说，“你对激进派的报纸挺有兴趣，并为报纸撰写文章。”
“我写得不多，我没工夫多写。”
“噢，那是！我从格拉西尼夫人那里了解到你还担当别的重要工作。”
琼玛微微扬起了眉毛。格拉西尼夫人这个傻乎乎的小个女人显然口没遮拦，对这个滑头的家伙讲了不少的话。就她自己来说，琼玛真的开始讨厌起他来。
“我确实很忙，”她说，态度很生硬，“但是格拉西尼夫人过高地评价了我那份工作的重要性。大多无非是些无足挂齿的小事。”
“呃，如果我们大家都把时间用于哀悼意大利，那么这个世界就会乱成一团。我倒是认为要是和今晚的主人及其妻子接近，每一个人都会出于自卫而把自己说得一无是处。噢，对了，我知道你要说什么。你完全正确，但是他们那种爱国主义实在让人感到好笑——你这就要进去吗？这儿多好！”
“我看我现在要进去了。那是我的围巾吗？谢谢。”
他把它拾了起来，现在就站在她的身边，睁大了眼睛。那双眼睛碧蓝而纯真，就像小溪里的勿忘我一样。
“我知道你在生我的气，”他自怨自艾地说道，“因为我愚弄了彩绘的蜡像娃娃。可是这又有什么办法呢？”
“既然你这么问我，那么我就要说一句。我认为那样嘲笑智力低下的人不够大度，而且——呃——这是怯懦之举，就像嘲笑一个瘸子或者——”
他突然屏住了呼吸，很痛苦。他的身子直往后缩，并且看了一眼他的跛脚和残手。但他很快就又镇静了下来，哈哈大笑。
“这样比较有失公正，夫人。我们这些瘸子并不当着别人的面来炫耀我们的缺陷，可她却炫耀她的愚昧。至少我们可以相信畸形的腰部要比畸形的行为更让人觉得不快。这儿有个台阶，挽住我的胳膊好吗？”
她感到有些窘迫，默不做声，重又走进了屋里。她没有想到他是那么敏感，因而完全不知所措。
他直接打开了那间宽敞的接待室的门，她意识到自己离开以后这里发生了某种不同寻常的事情。看上去大多数的男士都在生气，有些人坐卧不安。他们全都聚在屋子的一头。主人肯定也在生气，但却引而不发，坐在那儿调整着他的眼镜。
有一小部分来客站在屋子一角，饶有兴趣地看着屋子的另一头。显然是出了什么事情，他们似乎把它当成是一个笑话。对于大多数客人来说，他们觉得是受到了侮辱。格拉西尼夫人本人却好像什么也没有注意到。她正在搔首弄姿，一边摇着她的扇子，一边在和荷兰使馆的秘书聊天。那位秘书眉开眼笑，坐在那里听着。
琼玛站在门口停顿了片刻，随即转过身来，看看牛虻是否也注意到了众人的不安表情。他扫了一眼幸而没有觉察的女主人，然后又看了一眼房间另一头的沙发。他的眼里明白无误地流露出一种恶毒的得意神情。她立刻就明白了是怎么回事，他打着一个虚假的旗号带来了他的情妇，除了格拉西尼夫人谁也没有骗过。
那位吉卜赛姑娘靠在沙发上，周围是一帮嬉皮笑脸的花花公子和滑稽可笑的骑兵军官。她打扮得花枝招展，穿着琥珀色和绯红色相间的衣服，有着东方的艳丽。她的身上还佩带着众多的饰物。她在佛罗伦萨这间文学沙龙里格外引人注目，就像是一只热带的小鸟，混在麻雀和椋鸟中间。她自己也好像觉得格格不入，于是便带着一种鄙夷的神情傲然怒视那些生气的女士。她看到牛虻伴同琼玛走进屋里，随即跳了起来朝他走去，说起话来滔滔不绝。让人感到痛苦的是她的法语错误百出。
“里瓦雷兹先生，我一直都在到处找你呢！萨利季科夫伯爵想要知道你在明天晚上能否去他的别墅。那儿有个舞会。”
“对不起，我不能去。就是我去了，我也跳不了舞。波拉夫人，请容许我给你介绍一下绮达·莱尼小姐。”
那位吉卜赛姑娘带着一丝傲慢的神态看了琼玛一眼，生硬地鞠了一躬。她确实是够漂亮的，就像马尔蒂尼所说的那样，带着一种动人、野性和愚鲁的美丽。她的姿态十分和谐自如，让人看了赏心悦目。但是她的前额又低又窄，小巧的鼻子线条显得缺乏同情心，几乎有些残酷。跟牛虻在一起，琼玛有一种压抑的感觉。这位吉卜赛女郎来到跟前以后，她的这种感觉就变得更加强烈。过了一会儿，主人走了过来。他请求波拉夫人帮他招待另外一间屋里的一些来客，她随即表示同意，奇怪的是竟然觉得如释重负。
“呃，夫人，你对牛虻有什么看法？”深夜乘车返回佛罗伦萨时，马尔蒂尼问道。“他竟然愚弄格拉西尼那位可怜的小个女人，你见过如此无耻的行径吗？”
“你是说那位跳芭蕾舞的姑娘吗？”
“他骗她说那位姑娘将会名噪一时，为了一位名人，格拉西尼夫人什么事儿都会愿意做的。”
“我认为这样做有欠公平，不仁不义。这样就使得格拉西尼夫妇处境尴尬，而且就是对于那位姑娘来说也是残忍的。我相信她也感到不大痛快。”
“你和他谈过话，是吗？你认为他怎么样？”
“噢，塞萨雷，我没有什么想法，只是我从来没有见过一个如此令人厌倦的人，简直可怕极了。一起待了十分钟，他就让我感到头疼。他就像是一个焦躁不安的魔鬼化身。”
“我原来就认为你不会喜欢他的。说句实话，我也不喜欢他。这人就像鳗鱼一样滑，我信不过他。”
收听单词发音 |
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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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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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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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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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obtruded
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| v.强行向前，强行，强迫( obtrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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satirist
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| n.讽刺诗作者，讽刺家，爱挖苦别人的人 | |
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disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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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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trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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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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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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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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conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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lackadaisical
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| adj.无精打采的，无兴趣的；adv.无精打采地，不决断地 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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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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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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effusive
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| adj.热情洋溢的；感情(过多)流露的 | |
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endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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ciphers
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| n.密码( cipher的名词复数 )；零；不重要的人；无价值的东西 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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monopolize
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| v.垄断，独占，专营 | |
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radicals
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| n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 )；根基；基本原理；[数学]根数 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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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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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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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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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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retailing
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| n.零售业v.零售(retail的现在分词) | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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dirges
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| n.挽歌( dirge的名词复数 )；忧伤的歌，哀歌 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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ridiculing
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的现在分词 ) | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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jaguar
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| n.美洲虎 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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penitently
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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flaunt
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| vt.夸耀，夸饰 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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100
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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