It was a family saying that "you never knew which way Charlotte Bartlett would turn." She was perfectly1 pleasant and sensible over Lucy's adventure, found the abridged2 account of it quite adequate, and paid suitable tribute to the courtesy of Mr. George Emerson. She and Miss Lavish3 had had an adventure also. They had been stopped at the Dazio coming back, and the young officials there, who seemed impudent4 and desoeuvre, had tried to search their reticules for provisions. It might have been most unpleasant. Fortunately Miss Lavish was a match for any one.
For good or for evil, Lucy was left to face her problem alone. None of her friends had seen her, either in the Piazza5 or, later on, by the embankment. Mr. Beebe, indeed, noticing her startled eyes at dinner-time, had again passed to himself the remark of "Too much Beethoven." But he only supposed that she was ready for an adventure, not that she had encountered it. This solitude6 oppressed her; she was accustomed to have her thoughts confirmed by others or, at all events, contradicted; it was too dreadful not to know whether she was thinking right or wrong.
At breakfast next morning she took decisive action. There were two plans between which she had to choose. Mr. Beebe was walking up to the Torre del Gallo with the Emersons and some American ladies. Would Miss Bartlett and Miss Honeychurch join the party? Charlotte declined for herself; she had been there in the rain the previous afternoon. But she thought it an admirable idea for Lucy, who hated shopping, changing money, fetching letters, and other irksome duties--all of which Miss Bartlett must accomplish this morning and could easily accomplish alone.
"No, Charlotte!" cried the girl, with real warmth. "It's very kind of Mr. Beebe, but I am certainly coming with you. I had much rather."
"Very well, dear," said Miss Bartlett, with a faint flush of pleasure that called forth7 a deep flush of shame on the cheeks of Lucy. How abominably8 she behaved to Charlotte, now as always! But now she should alter. All morning she would be really nice to her.
She slipped her arm into her cousin's, and they started off along the Lung' Arno. The river was a lion that morning in strength, voice, and colour. Miss Bartlett insisted on leaning over the parapet to look at it. She then made her usual remark, which was "How I do wish Freddy and your mother could see this, too!"
Lucy fidgeted; it was tiresome9 of Charlotte to have stopped exactly where she did.
"Look, Lucia! Oh, you are watching for the Torre del Gallo party. I feared you would repent10 you of your choice."
Serious as the choice had been, Lucy did not repent. Yesterday had been a muddle--queer and odd, the kind of thing one could not write down easily on paper--but she had a feeling that Charlotte and her shopping were preferable to George Emerson and the summit of the Torre del Gallo. Since she could not unravel11 the tangle12, she must take care not to re-enter it. She could protest sincerely against Miss Bartlett's insinuations.
But though she had avoided the chief actor, the scenery unfortunately remained. Charlotte, with the complacency of fate, led her from the river to the Piazza Signoria. She could not have believed that stones, a Loggia, a fountain, a palace tower, would have such significance. For a moment she understood the nature of ghosts.
The exact site of the murder was occupied, not by a ghost, but by Miss Lavish, who had the morning newspaper in her hand. She hailed them briskly. The dreadful catastrophe13 of the previous day had given her an idea which she thought would work up into a book.
"Oh, let me congratulate you!" said Miss Bartlett. "After your despair of yesterday! What a fortunate thing!"
"Aha! Miss Honeychurch, come you here I am in luck. Now, you are to tell me absolutely everything that you saw from the beginning." Lucy poked14 at the ground with her parasol.
"But perhaps you would rather not?"
"I'm sorry--if you could manage without it, I think I would rather not."
The elder ladies exchanged glances, not of disapproval15; it is suitable that a girl should feel deeply.
"It is I who am sorry," said Miss Lavish. "literary hacks16 are shameless creatures. I believe there's no secret of the human heart into which we wouldn't pry17."
She marched cheerfully to the fountain and back, and did a few calculations in realism. Then she said that she had been in the Piazza since eight o'clock collecting material. A good deal of it was unsuitable, but of course one always had to adapt. The two men had quarrelled over a five-franc note. For the five-franc note she should substitute a young lady, which would raise the tone of the tragedy, and at the same time furnish an excellent plot.
"What is the heroine's name?" asked Miss Bartlett.
"Leonora," said Miss Lavish; her own name was Eleanor.
"I do hope she's nice."
That desideratum would not be omitted.
"And what is the plot?"
Love, murder, abduction, revenge, was the plot. But it all came while the fountain plashed to the satyrs in the morning sun.
"I hope you will excuse me for boring on like this," Miss Lavish concluded. "It is so tempting18 to talk to really sympathetic people. Of course, this is the barest outline. There will be a deal of local colouring, descriptions of Florence and the neighbourhood, and I shall also introduce some humorous characters. And let me give you all fair warning: I intend to be unmerciful to the British tourist."
"Oh, you wicked woman," cried Miss Bartlett. "I am sure you are thinking of the Emersons."
Miss Lavish gave a Machiavellian19 smile.
"I confess that in Italy my sympathies are not with my own countrymen. It is the neglected Italians who attract me, and whose lives I am going to paint so far as I can. For I repeat and I insist, and I have always held most strongly, that a tragedy such as yesterday's is not the less tragic20 because it happened in humble21 life."
There was a fitting silence when Miss Lavish had concluded. Then the cousins wished success to her labours, and walked slowly away across the square.
"She is my idea of a really clever woman," said Miss Bartlett. "That last remark struck me as so particularly true. It should be a most pathetic novel."
Lucy assented22. At present her great aim was not to get put into it. Her perceptions this morning were curiously23 keen, and she believed that Miss Lavish had her on trial for an ingenue.
"She is emancipated24, but only in the very best sense of the word," continued Miss Bartlett slowly. "None but the superficial would be shocked at her. We had a long talk yesterday. She believes in justice and truth and human interest. She told me also that she has a high opinion of the destiny of woman--Mr. Eager! Why, how nice! What a pleasant surprise!"
"Ah, not for me," said the chaplain blandly25, "for I have been watching you and Miss Honeychurch for quite a little time."
"We were chatting to Miss Lavish."
His brow contracted.
"So I saw. Were you indeed? Andate via! sono occupato!" The last remark was made to a vender26 of panoramic27 photographs who was approaching with a courteous28 smile. "I am about to venture a suggestion. Would you and Miss Honeychurch be disposed to join me in a drive some day this week--a drive in the hills? We might go up by Fiesole and back by Settignano. There is a point on that road where we could get down and have an hour's ramble29 on the hillside. The view thence of Florence is most beautiful--far better than the hackneyed view of Fiesole. It is the view that Alessio Baldovinetti is fond of introducing into his pictures. That man had a decided30 feeling for landscape. Decidedly. But who looks at it to-day? Ah, the world is too much for us."
Miss Bartlett had not heard of Alessio Baldovinetti, but she knew that Mr. Eager was no commonplace chaplain. He was a member of the residential31 colony who had made Florence their home. He knew the people who never walked about with Baedekers, who had learnt to take a siesta32 after lunch, who took drives the pension tourists had never heard of, and saw by private influence galleries which were closed to them. Living in delicate seclusion33, some in furnished flats, others in Renaissance34 villas36 on Fiesole's slope, they read, wrote, studied, and exchanged ideas, thus attaining37 to that intimate knowledge, or rather perception, of Florence which is denied to all who carry in their pockets the coupons38 of Cook.
Therefore an invitation from the chaplain was something to be proud of. Between the two sections of his flock he was often the only link, and it was his avowed39 custom to select those of his migratory40 sheep who seemed worthy41, and give them a few hours in the pastures of the permanent. Tea at a Renaissance villa35? Nothing had been said about it yet. But if it did come to that-- how Lucy would enjoy it!
A few days ago and Lucy would have felt the same. But the joys of life were grouping themselves anew. A drive in the hills with Mr. Eager and Miss Bartlett--even if culminating in a residential tea-party--was no longer the greatest of them. She echoed the raptures42 of Charlotte somewhat faintly. Only when she heard that Mr. Beebe was also coming did her thanks become more sincere.
"So we shall be a partie carree," said the chaplain. "In these days of toil43 and tumult44 one has great needs of the country and its message of purity. Andate via! andate presto45, presto! Ah, the town! Beautiful as it is, it is the town."
They assented.
"This very square--so I am told--witnessed yesterday the most sordid46 of tragedies. To one who loves the Florence of Dante and Savonarola there is something portentous47 in such desecration-- portentous and humiliating."
"Humiliating indeed," said Miss Bartlett. "Miss Honeychurch happened to be passing through as it happened. She can hardly bear to speak of it." She glanced at Lucy proudly.
"And how came we to have you here?" asked the chaplain paternally48.
Miss Bartlett's recent liberalism oozed49 away at the question. "Do not blame her, please, Mr. Eager. The fault is mine: I left her unchaperoned."
"So you were here alone, Miss Honeychurch?" His voice suggested sympathetic reproof50 but at the same time indicated that a few harrowing details would not be unacceptable. His dark, handsome face drooped51 mournfully towards her to catch her reply.
"Practically."
"One of our pension acquaintances kindly52 brought her home," said Miss Bartlett, adroitly53 concealing54 the sex of the preserver.
"For her also it must have been a terrible experience. I trust that neither of you was at all--that it was not in your immediate55 proximity56?"
Of the many things Lucy was noticing to-day, not the least remarkable57 was this: the ghoulish fashion in which respectable people will nibble58 after blood. George Emerson had kept the subject strangely pure.
"He died by the fountain, I believe," was her reply.
"And you and your friend--"
"Were over at the Loggia."
"That must have saved you much. You have not, of course, seen the disgraceful illustrations which the gutter59 Press-- This man is a public nuisance; he knows that I am a resident perfectly well, and yet he goes on worrying me to buy his vulgar views."
Surely the vendor60 of photographs was in league with Lucy--in the eternal league of Italy with youth. He had suddenly extended his book before Miss Bartlett and Mr. Eager, binding61 their hands together by a long glossy62 ribbon of churches, pictures, and views.
"This is too much!" cried the chaplain, striking petulantly63 at one of Fra Angelico's angels. She tore. A shrill64 cry rose from the vendor. The book it seemed, was more valuable than one would have supposed.
"Willingly would I purchase--" began Miss Bartlett.
"Ignore him," said Mr. Eager sharply, and they all walked rapidly away from the square.
But an Italian can never be ignored, least of all when he has a grievance65. His mysterious persecution66 of Mr. Eager became relentless67; the air rang with his threats and lamentations. He appealed to Lucy; would not she intercede69? He was poor--he sheltered a family--the tax on bread. He waited, he gibbered, he was recompensed, he was dissatisfied, he did not leave them until he had swept their minds clean of all thoughts whether pleasant or unpleasant.
Shopping was the topic that now ensued. Under the chaplain's guidance they selected many hideous70 presents and mementoes-- florid little picture-frames that seemed fashioned in gilded71 pastry72; other little frames, more severe, that stood on little easels, and were carven out of oak; a blotting73 book of vellum; a Dante of the same material; cheap mosaic74 brooches, which the maids, next Christmas, would never tell from real; pins, pots, heraldic saucers, brown art-photographs; Eros and Psyche75 in alabaster76; St. Peter to match--all of which would have cost less in London.
This successful morning left no pleasant impressions on Lucy. She had been a little frightened, both by Miss Lavish and by Mr. Eager, she knew not why. And as they frightened her, she had, strangely enough, ceased to respect them. She doubted that Miss Lavish was a great artist. She doubted that Mr. Eager was as full of spirituality and culture as she had been led to suppose. They were tried by some new test, and they were found wanting. As for Charlotte--as for Charlotte she was exactly the same. It might be possible to be nice to her; it was impossible to love her.
"The son of a labourer; I happen to know it for a fact. A mechanic of some sort himself when he was young; then he took to writing for the Socialistic Press. I came across him at Brixton."
They were talking about the Emersons.
"How wonderfully people rise in these days!" sighed Miss Bartlett, fingering a model of the leaning Tower of Pisa.
"Generally," replied Mr. Eager, "one has only sympathy for their success. The desire for education and for social advance--in these things there is something not wholly vile77. There are some working men whom one would be very willing to see out here in Florence--little as they would make of it."
"Is he a journalist now?" Miss Bartlett asked, "He is not; he made an advantageous78 marriage."
He uttered this remark with a voice full of meaning, and ended with a sigh.
"Oh, so he has a wife."
"Dead, Miss Bartlett, dead. I wonder--yes I wonder how he has the effrontery79 to look me in the face, to dare to claim acquaintance with me. He was in my London parish long ago. The other day in Santa Croce, when he was with Miss Honeychurch, I snubbed him. Let him beware that he does not get more than a snub."
"What?" cried Lucy, flushing.
"Exposure!" hissed80 Mr. Eager.
He tried to change the subject; but in scoring a dramatic point he had interested his audience more than he had intended. Miss Bartlett was full of very natural curiosity. Lucy, though she wished never to see the Emersons again, was not disposed to condemn81 them on a single word.
"Do you mean," she asked, "that he is an irreligious man? We know that already."
"Lucy, dear--" said Miss Bartlett, gently reproving her cousin's penetration82.
"I should be astonished if you knew all. The boy--an innocent child at the time--I will exclude. God knows what his education and his inherited qualities may have made him."
"Perhaps," said Miss Bartlett, "it is something that we had better not hear."
"To speak plainly," said Mr. Eager, "it is. I will say no more." For the first time Lucy's rebellious83 thoughts swept out in words--for the first time in her life.
"You have said very little."
"It was my intention to say very little," was his frigid84 reply.
He gazed indignantly at the girl, who met him with equal indignation. She turned towards him from the shop counter; her breast heaved quickly. He observed her brow, and the sudden strength of her lips. It was intolerable that she should disbelieve him.
"Murder, if you want to know," he cried angrily. "That man murdered his wife!"
"How?" she retorted.
"To all intents and purposes he murdered her. That day in Santa Croce--did they say anything against me?"
"Not a word, Mr. Eager--not a single word."
"Oh, I thought they had been libelling me to you. But I suppose it is only their personal charms that makes you defend them."
"I'm not defending them," said Lucy, losing her courage, and relapsing into the old chaotic85 methods. "They're nothing to me."
"How could you think she was defending them?" said Miss Bartlett, much discomfited86 by the unpleasant scene. The shopman was possibly listening.
"She will find it difficult. For that man has murdered his wife in the sight of God."
The addition of God was striking. But the chaplain was really trying to qualify a rash remark. A silence followed which might have been impressive, but was merely awkward. Then Miss Bartlett hastily purchased the Leaning Tower, and led the way into the street.
"I must be going," said he, shutting his eyes and taking out his watch.
Miss Bartlett thanked him for his kindness, and spoke87 with enthusiasm of the approaching drive.
"Drive? Oh, is our drive to come off?"
Lucy was recalled to her manners, and after a little exertion88 the complacency of Mr. Eager was restored.
"Bother the drive!" exclaimed the girl, as soon as he had departed. "It is just the drive we had arranged with Mr. Beebe without any fuss at all. Why should he invite us in that absurd manner? We might as well invite him. We are each paying for ourselves."
Miss Bartlett, who had intended to lament68 over the Emersons, was launched by this remark into unexpected thoughts.
"If that is so, dear--if the drive we and Mr. Beebe are going with Mr. Eager is really the same as the one we are going with Mr. Beebe, then I foresee a sad kettle of fish."
"How?"
"Because Mr. Beebe has asked Eleanor Lavish to come, too."
"That will mean another carriage."
"Far worse. Mr. Eager does not like Eleanor. She knows it herself. The truth must be told; she is too unconventional for him."
They were now in the newspaper-room at the English bank. Lucy stood by the central table, heedless of Punch and the Graphic89, trying to answer, or at all events to formulate90 the questions rioting in her brain. The well-known world had broken up, and there emerged Florence, a magic city where people thought and did the most extraordinary things. Murder, accusations91 of murder, A lady clinging to one man and being rude to another--were these the daily incidents of her streets? Was there more in her frank beauty than met the eye--the power, perhaps, to evoke92 passions, good and bad, and to bring them speedily to a fulfillment?
Happy Charlotte, who, though greatly troubled over things that did not matter, seemed oblivious93 to things that did; who could conjecture94 with admirable delicacy95 "where things might lead to," but apparently96 lost sight of the goal as she approached it. Now she was crouching97 in the corner trying to extract a circular note from a kind of linen98 nose-bag which hung in chaste99 concealment100 round her neck. She had been told that this was the only safe way to carry money in Italy; it must only be broached101 within the walls of the English bank. As she groped she murmured: "Whether it is Mr. Beebe who forgot to tell Mr. Eager, or Mr. Eager who forgot when he told us, or whether they have decided to leave Eleanor out altogether--which they could scarcely do--but in any case we must be prepared. It is you they really want; I am only asked for appearances. You shall go with the two gentlemen, and I and Eleanor will follow behind. A one-horse carriage would do for us. Yet how difficult it is!"
"It is indeed," replied the girl, with a gravity that sounded sympathetic.
"What do you think about it?" asked Miss Bartlett, flushed from the struggle, and buttoning up her dress.
"I don't know what I think, nor what I want."
"Oh, dear, Lucy! I do hope Florence isn't boring you. Speak the word, and, as you know, I would take you to the ends of the earth to-morrow."
"Thank you, Charlotte," said Lucy, and pondered over the offer.
There were letters for her at the bureau--one from her brother, full of athletics102 and biology; one from her mother, delightful103 as only her mother's letters could be. She had read in it of the crocuses which had been bought for yellow and were coming up puce, of the new parlour-maid, who had watered the ferns with essence of lemonade, of the semi-detached cottages which were ruining Summer Street, and breaking the heart of Sir Harry104 Otway. She recalled the free, pleasant life of her home, where she was allowed to do everything, and where nothing ever happened to her. The road up through the pine-woods, the clean drawing-room, the view over the Sussex Weald--all hung before her bright and distinct, but pathetic as the pictures in a gallery to which, after much experience, a traveller returns.
"And the news?" asked Miss Bartlett.
"Mrs. Vyse and her son have gone to Rome," said Lucy, giving the news that interested her least. "Do you know the Vyses?"
"Oh, not that way back. We can never have too much of the dear Piazza Signoria."
"They're nice people, the Vyses. So clever--my idea of what's really clever. Don't you long to be in Rome?"
"I die for it!"
The Piazza Signoria is too stony105 to be brilliant. It has no grass, no flowers, no frescoes106, no glittering walls of marble or comforting patches of ruddy brick. By an odd chance--unless we believe in a presiding genius of places--the statues that relieve its severity suggest, not the innocence107 of childhood, nor the glorious bewilderment of youth, but the conscious achievements of maturity108. Perseus and Judith, Hercules and Thusnelda, they have done or suffered something, and though they are immortal109, immortality110 has come to them after experience, not before. Here, not only in the solitude of Nature, might a hero meet a goddess, or a heroine a god.
"Charlotte!" cried the girl suddenly. "Here's an idea. What if we popped off to Rome to-morrow--straight to the Vyses' hotel? For I do know what I want. I'm sick of Florence. No, you said you'd go to the ends of the earth! Do! Do!"
Miss Bartlett, with equal vivacity111, replied:
"Oh, you droll112 person! Pray, what would become of your drive in the hills?"
They passed together through the gaunt beauty of the square, laughing over the unpractical suggestion.
家里的人常说“你无法捉摸夏绿蒂·巴特利特下一步会做什么”。她对露西出游的遭遇感到十分高兴，显得通情达理，认为露西简略地谈的经过已足够了，并恰如其分地赞扬了乔治·艾默森先生的好意。其实她和拉维希小姐也有一番奇遇。她们在回来的路上在税务所被拦住了，那里的年轻官员们显得很无理，而且百无聊赖，居然想搜查她们的网兜，看看有没有什么食品①（译注：①当时意大利多半城镇都设有关卡，对旅客所带的食品上税）。发生这样的事情原是十分扫兴的。幸亏拉维希小姐足智多谋，能应付各种人。
是福也罢，是祸也罢，现在只剩下露西一个人来对付她的难题了。无论在广场上，还是后来在堤岸边，她的朋友中没有一个人看到她。毕比先生在吃饭时确实注意到她的惊恐的眼神，又一次对自己说了一遍“贝多芬弹得太多了”这句话。不过他仅仅以为她准备去冒险，却没有想到她已经有了奇遇。这种孤独感使她感到压抑；她习惯于让自己的想法得到别人的肯定，或者不管怎么样，遭到反驳也好；现在却不知道自己想得对还是不对，这实在太可怕了。
第二天早晨吃早饭时，她采取了决定性的行动。一共有两种方案，她必须选择其中之一。毕比先生将陪同艾默森父子，还有几位美国太太小姐，步行去加卢塔。巴特利特小姐与霍尼彻奇小姐是否愿意参加？夏绿蒂为自己婉辞了；上一天下午她曾去过，还淋了雨。不过她认为这对露西倒是个绝妙的主意，因为露西最讨厌买东西、兑换钱币、取信件以及做其他令人厌烦的杂务——这一切巴特利特小姐今天上午必须完成，而她是能一个人很轻松地完成的。
“不，夏绿蒂！”姑娘大声说，真的动了感情。“毕比先生非常好心地邀请我们去，不过我当然要和你一起走啰。我倒更愿意这样。”
“很好，亲爱的，”巴特利特小姐说，高兴得脸色微微泛红，这下子倒使露西感到羞愧，双颊绯红。她对待夏绿蒂的态度，现在和往常一样，是多么恶劣啊！不过现在她要改变了。整个上午她将真心好好地待她。
她挽起表姐的手臂，两人顺着河滨大道走去。那天早晨，阿诺河的水势、声响与颜色完全像一头狮子。巴特利特小姐坚持要凭着护墙，俯身观看流水。接着她说了一句常说的话，那就是：
“我真希望弗雷迪和你妈妈也能看到这一切！”
露西感到局促不安；夏绿蒂真讨厌，她正好就停在她自己停留过的地方。
“瞧，露西亚②（译注：这是露西这女人名字的拉丁语原型。）！啊，你在盼着看到到加卢塔去的那帮人。我真怕你对作出的选择会感到后悔。”
虽然这一选择是严酷的，露西却并不后悔。昨天是一笔糊涂账——稀奇而古怪，这种事情不是轻易能用笔写下来的——即便如此，她有一种感觉，和夏绿蒂在一起，陪她买东西，比和乔治‘艾默森一起登上加卢塔顶来得可取。她既然解不开那个疑团，就必须小心不再介入，这样她就能真诚地对巴特利特小姐的话中之话表示异议了。
然而她虽然避开了那个主要演员，那场景却不幸地依然存在。夏绿蒂心安理得地听从着命运的安排，领着她从河边一直走到主权广场。她原来不可能相信那些石块、凉廊、喷泉、王宫的塔楼能具有这么多含义。在那一瞬间，她算是明白了魍魉的本性。
现在正好站在上次那人被害的地方的不是鬼，而是拉维希小姐，她手里拿着一份晨报。她活泼地向她们打招呼。上一天那场可怕的惨祸启发了她的思路，她想她可以根据这一思路构成一部小说。
“哦，让我来祝贺你吧！”巴特利特小姐说。“你经过了昨天的失望！真是太幸运啦！”
“啊哈！霍尼彻奇小姐，到这里来！我可走运啦！好吧，你现在得把看到的一切都告诉我，从头说起。”
露西用她的花阳伞戳戳地面。
“也许你不想说吧？”
“很抱歉——如果我不说你也能写的话，我想我还是不说吧！”
那两位年纪较长的女士交换了眼色，那可不是不赞许的眼色；一位姑娘对此感到很难受，这是很相宜的。
“抱歉的应该是我，”拉维希小姐说。“我们这些雇用文人都是恬不知耻的家伙。我相信隐藏在人们心底的秘密我们没有不想刺探的。”
她兴冲冲地大步走向喷泉，又走回来，实地计算了一番。接着她说她八点钟就到广场了，一直在收集资料。其中大部分都不适用，不过，当然哕，作家总得加以改写啊。那两个男人为了一张五法郎的钞票争吵起来。她将用一位年轻小姐来代替那张五法郎的钞票，这样就能将悲剧的格调升高，同时还能提供绝妙的情节。
“女主人公的名字叫什么？”巴特利特小姐问。
“利奥诺拉，”拉维希小姐说；她本人的名字是埃莉诺①。（译注：①利奥诺拉是埃莉诺（拉）的意大利文简称。）
“我非常希望她是个好人。”
这一迫切的愿望绝不会被忽略。
“情节是怎么样的？”
情节就是这样：恋爱、谋杀、诱拐、复仇。在朝阳的照耀下，喷泉水珠飞溅在狂徒们身上，这时事情便一下子发生了。
“我希望你能原谅我这样唠唠叨叨，”拉维希小姐结束她的话时说。“和具有真正同情心的人谈话真让人舍不得停止。当然哕，这只是个最简略的大纲。还需要添加大量的乡土色彩和有关佛罗伦萨及其周围地区的描写，此外，我还要穿插一些幽默角色。我还要好好警告你们，对于那英国游客，我可打算不客气呀！”
“嘿，你这个坏心眼的女人！”巴特利特小姐叫道。“我肯定你在想的是艾默森父子俩。”
拉维希小姐狡猾地一笑。
“我承认在意大利我的同情并不在我同胞那一边。吸引我的是那些受到忽视的意大利人，我将尽我的能力来描绘他们的生活。我要重复并坚持，而且一向固执地认为：像昨天发生的那种悲剧，并不因为它发生在小人物身上而减弱它的悲剧性质。”
拉维希小姐讲完后是一阵恰当的沉默。然后这两位表姐妹祝愿她的努力获得成功，慢慢地穿过广场离去。
“她就是我心目中的那种绝顶聪明的女人，”巴特利特小姐说。“我感到她最后那句话特别确切。那部作品该是一部非常动人的小说。”
露西表示同意。当前她的最大目标便是不要被写进这部作品。她今天上午感觉特别灵敏，她相信拉维希小姐有心让她尝试扮演一位天真烂漫的少女的角色。
“她这个人很解放，不过只是从‘解放’这个词的最好意义来理解，”巴特利特小姐继续慢吞吞地说。“只有肤浅的人才会对她感到大惊小怪。我们昨天作了一次长谈。她相信正义、真理和人情味。她还告诉我她对妇女的命运有着崇高的评价——伊格先生！啊，太好了！没想到在这里遇见你，真使人高兴！”
“啊，对我说来可并不是没想到，”副牧师温和地说，“因为我观察你和霍尼彻奇小姐已有好一会儿了。”
“我们刚才在和拉维希小姐说话。”
他的眉头皱了起来。
“我看到了。你们在说话吗？走开，我没有空！”最后那句意大利话是对一名兜售全景照片的小贩说的，此人正有礼貌地笑着走过来。“我正想冒昧地提一个建议。你和霍尼彻奇小姐是否有兴趣在本星期哪一天和我一起乘马车——到山里去兜兜？我们可以从菲耶索莱上山，然后打道塞蒂涅诺回来。那条路上有一个地方我们可以下来，在山坡上随便走走，逛上一小时。从那里看佛罗伦萨真是漂亮极了——比从菲耶索莱看到的那老一套风景漂亮多了。那正是阿莱西奥.巴尔多维内蒂①（译注：①阿莱西奥·巴尔多维内蒂（1425? -1499）．意大利文艺复兴时期的画家，对选择风景作画有独到之处。）喜欢在画里采用的景色。此人对山水有他自己的鲜明的感情。情况确是这样。可是今天还有谁看他的画呢？唔，对我们说来这世界实在太难以理解了。”
巴特利特小姐没有听说过阿莱西奥·巴尔多维内蒂这个名字，不过她知道伊格先生决不是一位普通的副牧师。他是定居在佛罗伦萨并且把佛罗伦萨当作自己的家乡的那群外来人中的一个。他认得那些从来不随身携带旅游指南的人，他们已学会午饭后要午睡，乘马车到膳宿公寓旅客从未听说过的地方去兜风，并通过私人关系参观一些对后者不开放的画廊。那些人有的租赁了带家具的套间，有的住在菲耶索莱山坡上的文艺复兴时期的别墅里，深居简出；他们读书报、写文章、调查研究、交流心得，从而对佛罗伦萨非常熟悉，可称得上了如指掌，这绝不是那些口袋里装着伦敦库克旅行社所发给的旅游券的人所能做到的。
因此，副牧师的邀请是件值得自豪的事情。他常常是唯一能把他羊群②（译注：②牧师把教区里的全体教徒当做他的羊群,自己则是照看羊群的牧羊人。）中的两部分人联系起来的人，曾公开声明他的一贯做法是在他那四处流动的羊群中选择一些他看得起的人，让他们在长期居留者的牧地上逗留几小时。在文艺复兴时期的别墅里喝茶？关于这一点现在还只字未提。不过要是真有那么回事——露西一定会非常欣赏的！
如果这件事发生在几天前，露西是会有这相同的感受的。可是生活中的乐事正在重新组合。同伊格先生和巴特利特小姐乘马车到山里兜风——即使有参加住宅中的茶会作为高潮——已不再是最大的赏心乐事了。夏绿蒂显得兴高采烈，她却仅仅淡淡地附和了一声。只是当她听说毕比先生也参加时，她的感谢才变得较为真诚。
“这么说我们将是四个档①（译注：①原文为法语partie carrée．尤指两男两女的四个档。）啰，”副牧师说。“在现今这种忙忙碌碌、动荡不安的日子里，人很需要乡村及乡村给人的启示：纯洁。走开！快走开，快走！啊，这个城市！它虽然很美，但毕竟是个城市。”
她们表示同意。
“我听说——就在这个广场上——昨天发生了一件十分恶劣的惨案。对于热爱但丁与萨沃纳罗拉②（译注：萨沃纳罗拉(1452-149B)，意大利修道士、宗教与政治改革家，1494年领导佛罗伦萨人民起义，被教皇判火刑处死。）的佛罗伦萨的人来说，这种亵渎行为带着些不祥的预兆——不祥而叫人感到耻辱。”
“确实叫人感到耻辱，”巴特利特小姐说。“这件惨案发生时，霍尼彻奇小姐刚巧打那里经过。对此她觉得惨不忍言。”她自豪地望着露西。
“你当时怎么会到这里来的？”副牧师像父亲那样关怀地问。
听到这句问话，巴特利特小姐最近表现的自由主义精神逐渐消失了。
“伊格先生，请不要责备她。这是我的过失，我没有陪伴她。”
“这么说你是一个人到这儿来的，霍尼彻奇小姐？”从他的语调可以听出既有责备的意思，又有同情，同时还表示听她讲述一些折磨人的细节也不是不可接受的。他黝黑英俊的脸悲哀地垂向她来听她回答。
“实际上是这样。”
“我们膳宿公寓的一位熟人好心地陪她回家，”巴特利特小姐说，巧妙地把这保护者的性别掩盖过去。
“这对她一定也是一场可怕的经历。我相信你们两位都根本没有——那惨案不会就发生在你们身旁吧。”
露西今天注意到的许多事情中，这一点并不是最不突出的：流血发生后，体面人士会像食尸鬼那样一点点地咀嚼回味。而乔治，艾默森当时却使这一话题显得特别纯洁。
她的回答是：“我想他死在喷泉旁边吧。”
“那你和你的朋友——”
“在凉廊那边。”
“这样你们该可以避免看到很多悲惨的情景。你们当然没有看到那些丑恶的图片吧！黄色报刊把它们——这个人是个社会公害；他明知道我是定居在这里的，还要纠缠不清，非要我买他的那些庸俗的风景照。”
这位出售照片的小贩必定与露西结成了联盟——意大利式的联盟永远是与青春结盟的。他突然把照相集送到巴特利特小姐与伊格先生的面前，用一长串亮光光的教堂照片、名画画片和风景照把他们的手缚在一起。
“这实在太过分了！”副牧师喊叫起来，怒冲冲地拍打安哲利科画的一位天使。照片撕破了。小贩发出一声尖叫。看来这本集子比人们想象的要值钱。
“我愿意买下——”巴特利特小姐开口说。
“不要睬他，”伊格先生厉声说，他们大家便加快步伐离开广场。
然而意大利人从来不是不理睬所能打发的，尤其当他感到受了委屈的时候。他对伊格先生的折磨变得简直不可思议、毫不留情；他的恫吓声和恸哭声在空气中回响。他向露西请求，她不能为他说说情吗？他是个穷人——要维持一家人的生活——面包都要上税呢。他等在那里，叽里咕噜地说了一通，得到了赔偿，可是并不满足，直到把他们脑袋里的各种想法，不管是愉快的还是不愉快的，统统一扫而空后，才离他们而去。
接着而来的话胚是购物。在副牧师的引导下，她们选购了许多难看的礼物与纪念品——像是用金光灿灿的面点制作成的华丽的小镜框；另外有些用栎木雕成、安放在小画架上的比较肃穆的小画框；一本犊皮纸制成的吸墨水纸；一幅用同样材料制成的但丁像；一些廉价的镶嵌别针，女仆们在下次圣诞节拿到时是根本分不清它们是真货还是赝品的；徽章、小器皿、有纹章的碟子、棕色的艺术画片；厄洛斯①（译注：厄洛斯，希腊神话中的爱神。）与普赛克②（译注：普赛克，希腊神话中以少女形象出现的人类灵魂的化身，与厄洛斯相恋。）的石膏像；圣·彼得③（译注：圣·彼得为渔夫的守护神。）像用来配对——所有这一切，如在伦敦购买，可以少花一些钱。
这个大有收获的上午并没有留给露西什么愉快的印象。不知道为什么，拉维希小姐和伊格先生都使她感到有点害怕。说也奇怪，正因为他们使她感到害怕，她也不再尊敬他们了。她对拉维希小姐是位伟大的艺术家感到怀疑。她曾认为伊格先生是一位非常神圣、极有修养的人，现在也感到怀疑了。他们遇到了新的考验，结果她发现他们都不够格。至于夏绿蒂一至于夏绿蒂，她可还是老样子。你可能会待她很好，但是你绝不可能爱她。
“一个劳工的儿子；说来也巧，我知道这确是事实。他年轻时做过技工这类工作；后来着手为社会主义者的报刊写稿。我是在布里克斯顿结识他的。”
他们在谈论艾默森父子。
“在当今的日子里，人们上升得好快呀！”巴特利特小姐叹了一口气，一面用手指摸弄一座比萨斜塔的模型。
“一般说来，”伊格先生应道，“人们对他们取得成功只有同情的份儿。至于受教育和提高社会地位的愿望——其中也有些并不完全是见不得人的东西。有一些工人，人们很愿意看到他们在这儿佛罗伦萨——尽管他们不会有什么大出息。”
“他现在是新闻记者吗？”巴特利特小姐问。
“不是；他结了一门很有利的亲事。”
他说这句话的音调意味深长，说罢叹了口气。
“噢，原来他有妻子。”
“死了，巴特利特小姐，死了。我弄不懂——是的，我弄不懂他怎么会脸皮厚得居然敢拿正眼看我，胆敢和我攀交情。好久以前，他住在我管辖的伦敦教区。那天在圣克罗彻教堂，他和霍尼彻奇小姐在一起，我故意冷落他。这样让他知道他只配受冷落。”
“什么？”露西嚷道，脸红起来。
“揭露他！”伊格先生发出嘘声。
他试图改变话题；但在取得戏剧性的效果因而获得一分的同时，他引起了他的听众的莫大兴趣，这是他始所未料的。巴特利特小姐充满了天然的好奇心。露西虽然希望永远不再见到艾默森父子，但是也不想为了一句话去谴责他们。
“你是说，”她问，“他是个没有宗教信仰的人？这个我们可早知道了。”
“露西，亲爱的——”巴特利特小姐说，温和地指摘她表妹不该插嘴。
“要是你真的知道全部情况，我倒要大吃一惊呢！那个年轻人——那时候他还是个天真的孩子——我就不谈了。他的教育以及他从父亲身上继承的品性会使他发展成为什么样的人，只有上帝才知道。”
“也许，”巴特利特小姐说，“这件事我们还是不听的好。”
“坦白地说，”伊格先生说，“正是这样，我不讲了。”
露西的叛逆思想第一次通过言辞冲出口来——她这样做还是生平第一次。
“你其实只讲了一点点。”
“我本来就不打算多讲，”他冷冷地应道。
他愤慨地注视着姑娘，姑娘也以同样愤慨的目光回望他。她从柜台旁转身向着他，胸部迅猛地起伏着。他望着她的前额以及突然使劲抿紧的嘴唇。她竟然不相信他，这可使他受不了。
“杀人，如果你想知道的话，”他愤怒地嚷道。“那个人杀害了自己的妻子！”
“怎样杀害的？”她反问。
“不管怎么样，他杀害了她。那天，在圣克罗彻教堂的那天——他们讲了我的坏话了吗？”
“一句也没有讲，伊格先生—一一个字也没有讲。”
“哦，我还以为他们对你诽谤过我呢！不过我想你为他们辩护完全是由于他们的个人魅力吧。”
“我没有为他们辩护，”露西说，她的勇气消失了，重新陷入了老一套的混乱的思想方法中去。“他们和我没有任何关系。”
“你怎么能以为她在为他们辩护呢？”巴特利特小姐说，被这个不愉快的场面弄得狼狈不堪。售货员很可能在听他们的谈话呢。
“她将会发现为他们辩护是十分困难的，因为在上帝的眼里那个人杀害』，自己的妻子。”
把上帝也包括进去，这可非同寻常。不过副牧师实在是用来修饰他那句唐突的话的。接着是一阵沉默，这原来很可能给人深刻印象，却只弄得很尴尬。于是巴特利特小姐连忙把那座斜塔买下，率先向大街走去。
“我必须走了，”他说，闭上眼睛，掏出怀表。
巴特利特小姐感谢他的美意，对不久将乘马车去游览的安排说了些热情的话。
“乘马车去游览？噢，那么我们这次游览去定了？”
这使露西恢复了常态，而经过几分努力后，伊格先生也回复到先前的踌躇满志的心态。
“什么游览不游览，真讨厌！”他刚离开，姑娘便嚷起来。“这就是我们同毕比先生一起商定的那次游览，我们可没有大惊小怪。为什么他邀请我们要用这样可笑的态度呢？倒不如我们开口邀请他的好。我们每个人都出自己的那份钱嘛。”
巴特利特小姐本来想说几句同情艾默森父子的话，听了露西这么说，倒引发了一些她原先没有想到的念头。
“如果真是这样，亲爱的——如果我们和毕比先生并带上伊格先生一起去游览与我们和毕比先生去游览真就是同一次的话，我可以预言，结果必定是一团糟。”
“怎么会呢？”
“因为毕比先生还请了埃莉诺·拉维希一起去。”
“这意味着需要另一辆马车。”
“还有更糟糕的呢！伊格先生不喜欢埃莉诺。这一点她本人也知道。必须把真实的情况讲清楚：对他说来，她太不符习俗了。”
她们现在来到了那家英国银行的报刊室。露西站在屋中央的那张桌子边，根本没有注意《笨拙》和《写真》，却试图解答在脑海里翻腾着的那些问题，或者，不管怎样，至少设法把它们系统地阐述一番。那个熟悉的世界已经四分五裂，却冒出了佛罗伦萨这个具有魔力的城市，在那里，人们想的和做的事情都十分离奇。谋杀、指控谋杀、一位女士紧紧缠住一个男子，却对另一个男子十分粗暴——这些都是这城市大街上司空见惯的现象吗？佛罗伦萨显著的美点，除了让人能看到的——一种也许能唤起不管是美好的还是邪恶的热情、并且能使这种热情很快便开花结果的魔力——还有什么吗？
快活的夏绿蒂虽然常常被无关紧要的琐事所困扰，但是对至关重要的事情却似乎不太在意；她能巧妙地推测“事情会发展到什么地步”，巧妙得令人叫绝，可是当她接近目标时，却又显得视而不见！现在她蜷缩在角落里，试图从挂在脖子上隐藏得十分严密的一只布袋（像是系在马脖子上的草料袋）里取出一张流通证①（译注： ①这是今日流行的旅行支票的前身，是由伦敦的银行签发的信用证，持有者可以在旅行期间到外国的银行兑现）。人家告诉她这是在意大利携带钱款的唯一的安全办法；只有在英国银行四壁之内才能启用。她一面摸索、一面低声说：“到底是毕比先生忘了告诉伊格先生，还是伊格先生告诉我们时忘了，还是他们俩都决定干脆不请埃莉诺—一那是他们几乎不可能做到的——不过，不管怎样，我们必须做好准备。他们真心想请的是你；他们请我只是为了面子。你和两位先生一起走，我和埃莉诺跟在后面。我们乘一辆一匹马拉的马车就可以了。然而这一切多难啊！”
“的确是难，”姑娘回答，口气严肃得听起来充满了同情。
“你认为怎样？”巴特利特小姐问，刚才使了劲，脸都涨红了，她把衣服扣好。
“我不知道自己到底是怎么想的，也不知道到底想要什么。”
“天哪，露西！我真希望佛罗伦萨没有使你厌倦。只要你开一声口，你知道，我明天就陪你走遍天涯海角。”
“谢谢你，夏绿蒂，”露西说，对这个建议进行了一番思考。
写字台上有她的信——一封是她弟弟写来的，内容尽谈的是体育运动与生物学；一封是她母亲写来的，很有趣，只有她母亲的信才能写得这么有趣。信里谈到番红花，原以为买的是黄色的，谁想却开出紫褐色的花朵；谈到新来的客厅女仆，她竟用柠檬香精浇灌蕨类植物；还谈到那些一侧相连的小屋破坏了夏街的风貌，使哈里-奥特韦爵士十分伤心。她回想起家里的那种自由自在的愉快生活，在那里她可以爱怎么干就怎么干，而且从来也没有出过什么事。通过松林的那条路、明净的客厅、苏克塞斯郡威尔德地区的景色——这一切都清楚明亮地出现在她眼前，但像画廊里的一幅幅画，带有伤感的情调，好像一位游子，浪迹江湖后，重游故地，再次观赏那些名画时的心情。
“有什么消息吗？”巴特利特小姐问。
“维斯太太和她儿子到罗马去了，”露西说，把她最不感兴趣的那条消息说了。“你认识维斯一家吗？”
“哦，时间不那么长。可爱的主权广场我们怎么也不会玩够的。”
“他们人都很好，我说的是维斯一家。非常聪明——是我认为的那种真正的聪明。你不想到罗马去吗？”
“想死了！”
主权广场完全由石块铺成，因此不可能灿烂夺目。广场上没有草，没有花，没有壁画，没有闪闪发亮的大理石墙，也没有赏心悦目的一片片红砖墙。由于奇突的巧合——除非我们相信每个地方都有主宰它的守护神——那些使广场显得不那么肃穆的雕像给人的感觉不是童年的天真，也不是青春引以为豪的迷惘，而是壮年的自觉的成就。柏修斯（译注：柏修斯，希腊神话中主神宙斯与达那厄所生的儿子，他杀死了蛇发女怪美杜莎。）与朱迪思（译注：朱迪思，天主教徒使用的《圣经》中的一位犹太妇女，她具有舍己教人的高贵品质。），海格立斯（译注：海格立斯，罗马神话中主神宙斯的儿子，力大无比，曾完成十二项英雄事迹，又称大力神。）与瑟斯纳尔德（译注：瑟斯纳尔德，在该广场上，是个在悲悼的妇女的雕像，形象异常生动。），他们都有所作为，也尝过艰辛，他们虽然都是神，但都是历尽苦难以后，而不是以前成神的。在这里，不仅仅是在与世隔绝的大自然中，一位英雄可能遇到一位女神，或者一位女英雄可能遇到一位男神。
“夏绿蒂！”姑娘突然嚷了起来。“我有个想法。明天我们就离开这里去罗马——直奔维斯他们住的旅馆，怎么样？因为我确实知道自己想要什么了。我在佛罗伦萨已经待腻了。刚才你说你要去天涯海角！那就去吧！去吧！”
巴特利特小姐和露西同样兴奋，应道：
“嘿，你这个促狭鬼！那么请问，乘马车去山间兜风怎么办？”
她们穿过具有萧瑟之美的广场，笑着谈论这一不切实际的建议。
收听单词发音 |
1
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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abridged
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| 削减的，删节的 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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hacks
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| 黑客 | |
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pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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19
machiavellian
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| adj.权谋的，狡诈的 | |
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20
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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24
emancipated
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| adj.被解放的，不受约束的v.解放某人（尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚）( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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26
vender
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| n.小贩 | |
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27
panoramic
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| adj. 全景的 | |
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28
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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29
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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30
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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31
residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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32
siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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33
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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34
renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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35
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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37
attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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38
coupons
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| n.礼券( coupon的名词复数 )；优惠券；订货单；参赛表 | |
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39
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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40
migratory
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| n.候鸟，迁移 | |
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41
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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42
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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presto
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| adv.急速地；n.急板乐段；adj.急板的 | |
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46
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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47
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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48
paternally
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| adv.父亲似地；父亲一般地 | |
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49
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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50
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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51
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
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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53
adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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54
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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55
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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56
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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57
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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58
nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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59
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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60
vendor
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| n.卖主；小贩 | |
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61
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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62
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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63
petulantly
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64
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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65
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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66
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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67
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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68
lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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69
intercede
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| vi.仲裁，说情 | |
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70
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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71
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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72
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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73
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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74
mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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75
psyche
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| n.精神；灵魂 | |
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76
alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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77
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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78
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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79
effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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80
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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81
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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82
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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83
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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84
frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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85
chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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86
discomfited
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| v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词)；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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87
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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88
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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89
graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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90
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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91
accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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92
evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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93
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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94
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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95
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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96
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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97
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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98
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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99
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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100
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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101
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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102
athletics
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| n.运动，体育，田径运动 | |
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103
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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104
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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105
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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106
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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107
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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108
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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109
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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110
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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111
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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112
droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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