Mr. Beebe was right. Lucy never knew her desires so clearly as after music. She had not really appreciated the clergyman's wit, nor the suggestive twitterings of Miss Alan. Conversation was tedious; she wanted something big, and she believed that it would have come to her on the wind-swept platform of an electric tram. This she might not attempt. It was unladylike. Why? Why were most big things unladylike? Charlotte had once explained to her why. It was not that ladies were inferior to men; it was that they were different. Their mission was to inspire others to achievement rather than to achieve themselves. Indirectly1, by means of tact2 and a spotless name, a lady could accomplish much. But if she rushed into the fray3 herself she would be first censured4, then despised, and finally ignored. Poems had been written to illustrate5 this point.
There is much that is immortal6 in this medieval lady. The dragons have gone, and so have the knights8, but still she lingers in our midst. She reigned9 in many an early Victorian castle, and was Queen of much early Victorian song. It is sweet to protect her in the intervals10 of business, sweet to pay her honour when she has cooked our dinner well. But alas11! the creature grows degenerate12. In her heart also there are springing up strange desires. She too is enamoured of heavy winds, and vast panoramas13, and green expanses of the sea. She has marked the kingdom of this world, how full it is of wealth, and beauty, and war--a radiant crust, built around the central fires, spinning towards the receding14 heavens. Men, declaring that she inspires them to it, move joyfully15 over the surface, having the most delightful16 meetings with other men, happy, not because they are masculine, but because they are alive. Before the show breaks up she would like to drop the august title of the Eternal Woman, and go there as her transitory self.
Lucy does not stand for the medieval lady, who was rather an ideal to which she was bidden to lift her eyes when feeling serious. Nor has she any system of revolt. Here and there a restriction17 annoyed her particularly, and she would transgress18 it, and perhaps be sorry that she had done so. This afternoon she was peculiarly restive19. She would really like to do something of which her well-wishers disapproved20. As she might not go on the electric tram, she went to Alinari's shop.
There she bought a photograph of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus." Venus, being a pity, spoilt the picture, otherwise so charming, and Miss Bartlett had persuaded her to do without it. (A pity in art of course signified the nude21.) Giorgione's "Tempesta," the "Idolino," some of the Sistine frescoes22 and the Apoxyomenos, were added to it. She felt a little calmer then, and bought Fra Angelico's "Coronation," Giotto's "Ascension of St. John," some Della Robbia babies, and some Guido Reni Madonnas. For her taste was catholic, and she extended uncritical approval to every well-known name.
But though she spent nearly seven lire, the gates of liberty seemed still unopened. She was conscious of her discontent; it was new to her to be conscious of it. "The world," she thought, "is certainly full of beautiful things, if only I could come across them." It was not surprising that Mrs. Honeychurch disapproved of music, declaring that it always left her daughter peevish23, unpractical, and touchy24.
"Nothing ever happens to me," she reflected, as she entered the Piazza25 Signoria and looked nonchalantly at its marvels26, now fairly familiar to her. The great square was in shadow; the sunshine had come too late to strike it. Neptune27 was already unsubstantial in the twilight28, half god, half ghost, and his fountain plashed dreamily to the men and satyrs who idled together on its marge. The Loggia showed as the triple entrance of a cave, wherein many a deity29, shadowy, but immortal, looking forth30 upon the arrivals and departures of mankind. It was the hour of unreality--the hour, that is, when unfamiliar31 things are real. An older person at such an hour and in such a place might think that sufficient was happening to him, and rest content. Lucy desired more.
She fixed32 her eyes wistfully on the tower of the palace, which rose out of the lower darkness like a pillar of roughened gold. It seemed no longer a tower, no longer supported by earth, but some unattainable treasure throbbing33 in the tranquil34 sky. Its brightness mesmerized35 her, still dancing before her eyes when she bent36 them to the ground and started towards home.
Then something did happen.
Two Italians by the Loggia had been bickering37 about a debt. "Cinque lire," they had cried, "cinque lire!" They sparred at each other, and one of them was hit lightly upon the chest. He frowned; he bent towards Lucy with a look of interest, as if he had an important message for her. He opened his lips to deliver it, and a stream of red came out between them and trickled38 down his unshaven chin.
That was all. A crowd rose out of the dusk. It hid this extraordinary man from her, and bore him away to the fountain. Mr. George Emerson happened to be a few paces away, looking at her across the spot where the man had been. How very odd! Across something. Even as she caught sight of him he grew dim; the palace itself grew dim, swayed above her, fell on to her softly, slowly, noiselessly, and the sky fell with it.
She thought: "Oh, what have I done?"
"Oh, what have I done?" she murmured, and opened her eyes.
George Emerson still looked at her, but not across anything. She had complained of dullness, and lo! one man was stabbed, and another held her in his arms.
They were sitting on some steps in the Uffizi Arcade39. He must have carried her. He rose when she spoke40, and began to dust his knees. She repeated:
"Oh, what have I done?"
"You fainted."
"I--I am very sorry."
"How are you now?"
"Perfectly41 well--absolutely well." And she began to nod and smile.
"Then let us come home. There's no point in our stopping."
He held out his hand to pull her up. She pretended not to see it. The cries from the fountain--they had never ceased--rang emptily. The whole world seemed pale and void of its original meaning.
"How very kind you have been! I might have hurt myself falling. But now I am well. I can go alone, thank you."
His hand was still extended.
"Oh, my photographs!" she exclaimed suddenly.
"What photographs?"
"I bought some photographs at Alinari's. I must have dropped them out there in the square." She looked at him cautiously. "Would you add to your kindness by fetching them?"
He added to his kindness. As soon as he had turned his back, Lucy arose with the running of a maniac42 and stole down the arcade towards the Arno.
"Miss Honeychurch!"
She stopped with her hand on her heart.
"You sit still; you aren't fit to go home alone."
"Yes, I am, thank you so very much."
"No, you aren't. You'd go openly if you were."
"But I had rather--"
"Then I don't fetch your photographs."
"I had rather be alone."
He said imperiously: "The man is dead--the man is probably dead; sit down till you are rested." She was bewildered, and obeyed him. "And don't move till I come back."
In the distance she saw creatures with black hoods43, such as appear in dreams. The palace tower had lost the reflection of the declining day, and joined itself to earth. How should she talk to Mr. Emerson when he returned from the shadowy square? Again the thought occurred to her, "Oh, what have I done?"--the thought that she, as well as the dying man, had crossed some spiritual boundary.
He returned, and she talked of the murder. Oddly enough, it was an easy topic. She spoke of the Italian character; she became almost garrulous44 over the incident that had made her faint five minutes before. Being strong physically45, she soon overcame the horror of blood. She rose without his assistance, and though wings seemed to flutter inside her, she walked firmly enough towards the Arno. There a cabman signalled to them; they refused him.
"And the murderer tried to kiss him, you say--how very odd Italians are!--and gave himself up to the police! Mr. Beebe was saying that Italians know everything, but I think they are rather childish. When my cousin and I were at the Pitti yesterday--What was that?"
He had thrown something into the stream.
"What did you throw in?"
"Things I didn't want," he said crossly.
"Mr. Emerson!"
"Well?"
"Where are the photographs?"
He was silent.
"I believe it was my photographs that you threw away."
"I didn't know what to do with them," he cried. and his voice was that of an anxious boy. Her heart warmed towards him for the first time. "They were covered with blood. There! I'm glad I've told you; and all the time we were making conversation I was wondering what to do with them." He pointed46 down-stream. "They've gone." The river swirled47 under the bridge, "I did mind them so, and one is so foolish, it seemed better that they should go out to the sea--I don't know; I may just mean that they frightened me. Then the boy verged48 into a man. "For something tremendous has happened; I must face it without getting muddled49. It isn't exactly that a man has died."
Something warned Lucy that she must stop him.
"It has happened," he repeated, "and I mean to find out what it is."
"Mr. Emerson--"
He turned towards her frowning, as if she had disturbed him in some abstract quest.
"I want to ask you something before we go in."
They were close to their pension. She stopped and leant her elbows against the parapet of the embankment. He did likewise. There is at times a magic in identity of position; it is one of the things that have suggested to us eternal comradeship. She moved her elbows before saying:
"I have behaved ridiculously."
He was following his own thoughts.
"I was never so much ashamed of myself in my life; I cannot think what came over me."
"I nearly fainted myself," he said; but she felt that her attitude repelled50 him.
"Well, I owe you a thousand apologies."
"Oh, all right."
"And--this is the real point--you know how silly people are gossiping--ladies especially, I am afraid--you understand what I mean?"
"I'm afraid I don't."
"I mean, would you not mention it to any one, my foolish behaviour?"
"Your behaviour? Oh, yes, all right--all right."
"Thank you so much. And would you--"
She could not carry her request any further. The river was rushing below them, almost black in the advancing night. He had thrown her photographs into it, and then he had told her the reason. It struck her that it was hopeless to look for chivalry51 in such a man. He would do her no harm by idle gossip; he was trustworthy, intelligent, and even kind; he might even have a high opinion of her. But he lacked chivalry; his thoughts, like his behaviour, would not be modified by awe52. It was useless to say to him, "And would you--" and hope that he would complete the sentence for himself, averting53 his eyes from her nakedness like the knight7 in that beautiful picture. She had been in his arms, and he remembered it, just as he remembered the blood on the photographs that she had bought in Alinari's shop. It was not exactly that a man had died; something had happened to the living: they had come to a situation where character tells, and where childhood enters upon the branching paths of Youth.
"Well, thank you so much," she repeated, "How quickly these accidents do happen, and then one returns to the old life!"
"I don't."
Anxiety moved her to question him.
His answer was puzzling: "I shall probably want to live."
"But why, Mr. Emerson? What do you mean?"
"I shall want to live, I say."
Leaning her elbows on the parapet, she contemplated54 the River Arno, whose roar was suggesting some unexpected melody to her ears.
毕比先生说得不错，露西只有在弹奏音乐后才最清楚自己向往的是什么。她并没有真正领会这牧师的辞令的妙处，也没听出艾伦小姐嘁嘁喳喳的话中的暗示。谈话冗长乏味；她盼望的是出现什么不平凡的事情，她相信只要站在风吹雨打的电车平台上，就会遇到不平凡的事情。
可是她又不能这样做。这样做有失大家闺秀的身份。这是为什么？为什么大多数不平凡的事情都和大家闺秀的身份不相称呢？夏绿蒂有一次向她解释过其中的缘故。这并不是说女人不如男人，而是说女人跟男人不同。女人的使命是鼓励别人去取得成就，而不是自己去取得成就。一位女士，凭着机敏和洁白无瑕的名声，可以通过间接方式获得巨大的成功。但是如果她亲自去冲锋陷阵，那么她将首先受到指责，继而被人看不起，最后大家将不理睬她。前人曾写诗来阐明这一点。
在这位中世纪女士身上有许多永恒的东西。龙不存在了，骑士也不存在了，但是她仍然逗留在我们的中间。她曾在许多维多利亚时代早期的城堡中居于统治地位，也是许多维多利亚时代早期的歌曲中的女王。工余之暇，好好保护她是件乐事，她为我们准备了可口的晚餐，这时向她致敬也是件乐事。可是真是可惜！这个人堕落了。她心底里也涌现出各种奇怪的欲望。她也迷恋狂风，迷恋波澜壮阔的全景和一望无际的绿色大海。她注意到当今世界的这个王国，它多么美好，充满了财富和战争——四周是一层金光灿灿的外壳，中间是熊熊的火焰，旋转上升，向着渐渐远去的天空。男人们声明是她激励他们向它走去，在它的表面上兴冲冲地活动着，和其他男人万分愉快地相聚，他们非常快乐，倒不是因为他们具有男子汉气概，而是因为他们是活人。在这场戏结束以前，她很想放弃“永恒的女人”这一令人敬畏的尊号，作为一个生命短暂的人，也到那里去。
露西并不代表中世纪女士，那不如说是个理想人物，是别人教导她在心情严肃的时候抬头仰望的理想人物。她也没有系统地进行过反抗。时而会有一些约束使她特别恼火，这时她就要违犯这些约束，也许以后会为此感到后悔。这天下午，她感到特别烦躁。她真想做出一些使对她抱有良好祝愿的人不赞同的事情来。既然乘电车不行，她便到阿利纳里的商店①（译注：①阿利纳里是意大利当时的一位艺术图书和复制画片的出版商，其零售店离贝尔托利尼公寓约四分之三英里。）去。
在那里她买了一帧波提切利的《维纳斯的诞生》（译注：波提切利(1445 -1510)，意大利文艺复兴时期画家。这是他的代表作。）的画片。维纳斯的形象使人感到遗憾，它破坏了整幅画，其他方面则真是十分动人，而巴特利特小姐曾劝她不要买它。（在艺术作品中，使人感到遗憾当然指的是裸体。）还有乔尔乔内①(译注：①乔尔乔内( 1477-1511)．意大利文艺复兴时期威尼斯派画家，《暴风雨》是他的代表作。)的《暴风雨》、无名氏的《小神像》。加上西斯廷教堂的几幅壁画和那座格斗士在擦汗的青铜雕像。这时她觉得心情平静些了，就又买了安哲利科②（译注：安哲利科（1387-1455）．意大利文艺复兴时期僧侣画家。）的《圣母加冕》、乔托的《圣约翰升天》、一些德拉·罗比亚的婴孩陶雕以及几幅基多-雷尼③（译注：雷尼（1575-1642）．意大利画家。）画的圣母像。因为她的审美情趣是正统的，因此对所有的名家都不加批判地全盘接受下来。
她虽然已花了将近七里拉，但是自由的大门似乎仍然尚未打开。她意识到自己的不满；意识到不满对她说来是件新鲜事。她想，“世界上美好的东西确实很多，要是我能碰上就好了。”这样看来，霍尼彻奇太太不赞成音乐，说她女儿弹过琴后总是火气很大、不切实际、性情暴躁，这就没有什么奇怪的了。
“我什么也没有遇上，”她思量道，一面走上主权广场，冷漠地朝她现在已相当熟悉的那些美妙的雕像看看。这片大广场正笼罩在阴影中；当天太阳出来得太晚，未能驱散阴暗。在苍茫的暮色中，那尊海神像好像已成为一个幻影，一半是神，一半是鬼，他坐镇的喷泉梦幻般地溅落到在它边缘徘徊的男人与风流哥儿们的身上。那洞穴有三个入口，就在那条凉廊上，里面安放着许多神像，阴森森的，永远留在那里，望着人们进进出出。这是梦幻的时刻——那就是说，在这个时刻，一切不熟悉的东西都成为真的了。换了一个年岁稍大的人，在此时此地很可能会认为他的见识和经历已够丰富了，因而感到满足。可是露西希望发现更多的东西。
她的目光若有所思地望着那座王宫的塔楼，它像一根毛糙的金色柱子，从下面的黑暗中升起。它看上去不再像是一座塔楼，不再由土地支撑着，而是某种高得可望而不可即的珍宝，在平静的天空中颤动着。它的光辉使她像是中了催眠术一样，当她把眼光朝地下看并开始往回走时，这些光仍然在她的眼前跳动。
接着真的发生了一件事。
在凉廊前有两个意大利人为了一笔债款在争吵。“五里拉，”他们嚷道，“五里拉！”接着便动起武来，其中一人的胸脯上轻轻地挨了一拳。他皱了皱眉，朝露西瞟了一眼，似乎感到兴趣，有什么重要的信息要告诉她。他刚张嘴要说，一股鲜红的血水从他嘴唇间流出来，从没剃胡须的下巴上淌下。
就这么回事。有一帮人从苍茫的暮色中拥出来，挡住了她和这一离奇人物之间的视线，把他抬到喷泉边。乔治·艾默森先生正巧就站在几步路以外，目光越过那个人刚才站立的地方注视着她。真是怪啊！越过某样东西看人。就在她发现他时，他已变得模糊了；那宫殿本身也变得模糊了，在她的头顶上不断摇晃，轻轻地、慢慢地倒在她的身上，没有发出一点声响，随之天空也倒塌下来。
她思忖着：“哎呀，我怎么啦？”
“哎呀，我怎么啦？”她喃喃自语，接着张开了眼睛。
乔治·艾默森仍旧在看着她，但是这次眼光没有越过任何东西。她曾埋怨生活太枯燥无味了，现在瞧啊！有个人被捅了一刀，而另一个人把她抱在怀里。
他们正坐在乌菲齐美术馆拱廊的石级上。一定是他把她抱过来的。她说话时他站了起来，动手拂拭膝盖上的尘土。她又一次重复说：
“哎呀，我怎么啦？”
“你晕过去了。”
“我——我很抱歉。”
“你现在觉得怎么样？”
“非常好一完全好了。”她开始点头微笑。
“那我们回去吧。留在这里没有什么意思了。”
他伸出手去想拉她起来。她装作没有看见。喷泉边传来的叫喊声空荡荡地回响着，一直没有停过。整个世界显得一片苍白，失去了原有的意义。
“你实在太好了！我跌下去很可能会受伤的。不过我现在好了。我能一个人回去了，谢谢你。”
他的手没有缩回去。
“哎呀，我的照片！”她突然叫了起来。
“什么照片？”
“我在阿利纳里商店买了几张照片。我一定把照片失落在那边广场上了。”她小心翼翼地看着他。“你能否再做件好事，替我把照片捡回来？”
他又去做好事了。可是他刚一转身，露西就带着疯子所具有的狡猾站了起来，偷偷地顺着拱廊向阿诺河方向跑去。
“霍尼彻奇小姐！”
她停了步，一手按在胸口。
“你坐着不要动；你一个人回家还不行。”
“不，我行的，非常感谢你。”
“不，你还不行。如果你行的话，你就不会偷偷摸摸地走了。”
“不过我宁愿——”
“那我就不替你去捡照片了。”
“我宁愿一个人待着。”
他用命令的口气说：“那个人死了——那个人很可能已经死了；你坐下来，休息够了再走吧。”她有点不知所措，就听从了他的吩咐。“我回来以前你不要走动。”
她看到远处有一些人戴着黑色兜帽①（译注：①这是宗教团体“善行兄弟会”的成员。），就像梦中看到的那样。那王富的塔楼不再映着落日的余晖，已把自己与大地溶合在一起了。等艾默森先生从阴暗的广场上回来时，她将对他说些什么呢？“哎呀，我怎么啦？”她又一次想起了这个念头——想起那个奄奄一息的人和她都跨越了某种精神界线。
他回来了，她就谈起这起谋杀事件。真怪，这倒是个容易谈论的话题。她谈到意大利人的性格；她渐渐几乎喋喋不休地谈论这个五分钟以前使她晕过去的事件了。她的体质原是很强健的，因此很快就克服了对流血的恐惧。她不需要他帮助，自己站了起来，尽管心里好像有鸟翅在拍击，但是向阿诺河走去的脚步仍相当稳健。有个马车夫向他们打招呼，被他们拒绝了。
“你说，那个杀人凶手还企图吻他—一意大利人真是怪啊！——还有，他竟去警察局自首！毕比先生说过意大利人什么都懂，可是我看他们都顶幼稚。昨天我和表姐在皮蒂美术馆—一那是什么？”
他把一些东西扔到河里去了。
“你把什么东西扔下去了？”
“我不要的东西，”他没好气地说。
“艾默森先生！”
“嗯？”
“那些照片在哪里？”
他不做声。
“我相信你扔掉的正是我的那些照片。”
“我刚才不知道该拿这些东西怎么办，”他大声说，嗓音像是一个发急的男孩。她的心对他第一次感到热乎乎的。“照片上都是血。你看！我很高兴我把这些都告诉你了；而刚才我们交谈的时候，我一直在想该怎么处理这些照片。”他指着河的下游。“照片给带走了。”流水在桥下卷起了漩涡。“我确实对这些照片很介意，而一个人有时候真傻，我看也许还是让它们冲到海里去的好一我也说不好；也许我只是想说这些照片使我感到害怕。”接着这少年几乎逐渐成了一名男子汉。“因为一件十分重大的事情发生了；我必须正视它，头脑可千万不能糊涂。这倒不完全是死了一个人的事。”
露西有一种感觉，警告她必须不让他说下去。
“这件事已经发生了，”他重复一遍，“而我决心追根问底，要弄清楚是怎么回事。”
“艾默森先生——”
他把身子转向她，皱着眉，似乎正在寻求某种抽象的东西，而她打扰了他。
“我们进去以前，我想求你一件事。”
他们已走近膳宿公寓。她停下步来，把双肘搁在堤岸的护墙上。他也这样做。有时候两个人的姿势完全雷同，实在是奇妙；这也是向我们揭示永恒的友谊的一种方式。她移动了一下双肘，然后说：
“我的行为非常可笑。”
他却在想自己的心事。
“我一辈子也没有这样感到羞愧过；我简直想象不出我怎么会这样的。”
“我也几乎晕倒，”他说；但她觉察到她的态度使他反感。
“哦，我该向你表示万分抱歉。”
“啊，那没什么。”
“还有——这是我真正想说的——你知道人们说三道四起来有多无聊——尤其是太太小姐们，我怕——你懂我的意思？”
“很抱歉，我不懂。”
“我是说，你能不对任何人说起这件事，说起我这愚蠢行为吗？”
“你的行为？哦，我懂了，好的——好的。”
“非常感谢。还有，你能——”
她没法进一步说明她的请求了。他们下面的河水流得很急，在降临的夜幕中，几乎变成了黑色。他把那些照片扔进了河里，然后告诉她为什么这样做。她突然感到要这样一个人表现出骑士风度是毫无指望的。他不会散布流言来伤害她；他是可靠的，很聪明，甚至有一片好心肠；他心里甚至可能对她有很高的评价。不过他缺乏骑士风度；他的种种想法，和他的行为一样，不会由于畏惧而有丝毫改变。对他说“还有，你能——”，并希望他自己把这句话讲完，像那幅美丽的画片①（译注：①该是指英国拉斐尔前派画家约翰·米莱司（1829-1896）的名作《游侠骑士》，画上的女子遭到强盔抢劫，被赤裸裸地绑在树上。骑士路过，正动手救她。）上的骑士那样，避开目光，不去看赤裸裸的她，是完全徒劳的。她曾经躺在他的怀里，他记得这件事，就像他记得她在阿利纳里商店里买的那些照片上有血迹一样。这不完全是死了一个人的事；活人也受到了影响：他们已进入这样一种处境——性格起着巨大的作用，还有，童年已进入充满岔道的青春年华。
“好吧，非常感谢你，”她又说了一遍。“这些事情发生得好快，随后人们又回去过原来的生活！”
“我才不这样呢！”
焦急不安的心情促使她向他发问。
他的回答使入迷惑不解：“我很可能想生活下去。”
“但是为什么呢，艾默森先生？你这是什么意思？”
“我说我想生活下去。”
她双肘搁在护墙上，继续凝视着阿诺河，滔滔的流水声送入她的耳中，似乎具有某种意想不到的美妙旋律。
收听单词发音 |
1
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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censured
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| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的过去式 ) | |
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illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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panoramas
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| 全景画( panorama的名词复数 )； 全景照片； 一连串景象或事 | |
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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transgress
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| vt.违反，逾越 | |
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restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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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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nude
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| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
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frescoes
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| n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 )；温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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touchy
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| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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Neptune
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| n.海王星 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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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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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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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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mesmerized
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| v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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bickering
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| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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43
hoods
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| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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verged
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| 接近，逼近（verge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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49
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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50
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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51
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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52
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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53
averting
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| 防止，避免( avert的现在分词 )； 转移 | |
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54
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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