Sophia still possessed1 about a hundred pounds, and had she chosen to leave Paris and France, there was nothing to prevent her from doing so. Perhaps if she had chanced to visit the Gare St. Lazare or the Gare du Nord, the sight of tens of thousands of people flying seawards might have stirred in her the desire to flee also from the vague coming danger. But she did not visit those termini; she was too busy looking after M. Niepce, her grocer. Moreover, she would not quit her furniture, which seemed to her to be a sort of rock. With a flat full of furniture she considered that she ought to be able to devise a livelihood2; the enterprise of becoming independent was already indeed begun. She ardently3 wished to be independent, to utilize4 in her own behalf the gifts of organization, foresight5, commonsense6 and tenacity7 which she knew she possessed and which had lain idle. And she hated the idea of flight.
Chirac returned as unexpectedly as he had gone; an expedition for his paper had occupied him. With his lips he urged her to go, but his eyes spoke8 differently. He had, one afternoon, a mood of candid9 despair, such as he would have dared to show only to one in whom he felt great confidence. "They will come to Paris," he said; "nothing can stop them. And ... then ...!" He gave a cynical10 laugh. But when he urged her to go she said:
"And what about my furniture? And I've promised M. Niepce to look after him."
Then Chirac informed her that he was without a lodging11, and that he would like to rent one of her rooms. She agreed.
Shortly afterwards he introduced a middle-aged12 acquaintance namer Carlier, the secretary-general of his newspaper, who wished to rent a bedroom. Thus by good fortune Sophia let all her rooms immediately, and was sure of over two hundred francs a month, apart from the profit on meals supplied. On this latter occasion Chirac (and his companion too) was quite optimistic, reiterating13 an absolute certitude that Paris could never be invested. Briefly14, Sophia did not believe him. She believed the candidly15 despairing Chirac. She had no information, no wide theory, to justify16 her pessimism17; nothing but the inward conviction that the race capable of behaving as she had seen it behave in the Place de la Concorde, was bound to be defeated. She loved the French race; but all the practical Teutonic sagacity in her wanted to take care of it in its difficulties, and was rather angry with it for being so unfitted to take care of itself.
She let the men talk, and with careless disdain19 of their discussions and their certainties she went about her business of preparation. At this period, overworked and harassed20 by novel responsibilities and risks, she was happier, for days together, than she had ever been, simply because she had a purpose in life and was depending upon herself. Her ignorance of the military and political situation was complete; the situation did not interest her. What interested her was that she had three men to feed wholly or partially21, and that the price of eatables was rising. She bought eatables. She bought fifty pecks of potatoes at a franc a peck, and another fifty pecks at a franc and a quarter--double the normal price; ten hams at two and a half francs a pound; a large quantity of tinned vegetables and fruits, a sack of flour, rice, biscuits, coffee, Lyons sausage, dried prunes22, dried figs23, and much wood and charcoal24. But the chief of her purchases was cheese, of which her mother used to say that bread and cheese and water made a complete diet. Many of these articles she obtained from her grocer. All of them, except the flour and the biscuits, she stored in the cellar belonging to the flat; after several days' delay, for the Parisian workmen were too elated by the advent25 of a republic to stoop to labour, she caused a new lock to be fixed26 on the cellar-door. Her activities were the sensation of the house. Everybody admired, but no one imitated.
One morning, on going to do her marketing27, she found a notice across the shuttered windows of her creamery in the Rue28 Notre Dame29 de Lorette: "Closed for want of milk." The siege had begun. It was in the closing of the creamery that the siege was figured for her; in this, and in eggs at five sous a piece. She went elsewhere for her milk and paid a franc a litre for it. That evening she told her lodgers30 that the price of meals would be doubled, and that if any gentleman thought that he could get equally good meals elsewhere, he was at liberty to get them elsewhere. Her position was strengthened by the appearance of another candidate for a room, a friend of Niepce. She at once offered him her own room, at a hundred and fifty francs a month.
"You see," she said, "there is a piano in it."
"But I don't play the piano," the man protested, shocked at the price.
"That is not my fault," she said.
He agreed to pay the price demanded for the room because of the opportunity of getting good meals much cheaper than in the restaurants. Like M. Niepce, he was a 'siege-widower,' his wife having been put under shelter in Brittany. Sophia took to the servant's bedroom on the sixth floor. It measured nine feet by seven, and had no window save a skylight; but Sophia was in a fair way to realize a profit of at least four pounds a week, after paying for everything.
On the night when she installed herself in that chamber31, amid a world of domestics and poor people, she worked very late, and the rays of her candles shot up intermittently32 through the skylight into a black heaven; at intervals33 she flitted up and down the stairs with a candle. Unknown to her a crowd gradually formed opposite the house in the street, and at about one o'clock in the morning a file of soldiers woke the concierge34 and invaded the courtyard, and every window was suddenly populated with heads. Sophia was called upon to prove that she was not a spy signalling to the Prussians. Three quarters of an hour passed before her innocence35 was established and the staircases cleared of uniforms and dishevelled curiosity. The childish, impossible unreason of the suspicion against her completed in Sophia's mind the ruin of the reputation of the French people as a sensible race. She was extremely caustic36 the next day to her boarders. Except for this episode, the frequency of military uniforms in the streets, the price of food, and the fact that at least one house in four was flying either the ambulance flag or the flag of a foreign embassy (in an absurd hope of immunity37 from the impending38 bombardment) the siege did not exist for Sophia. The men often talked about their guard-duty, and disappeared for a day or two to the ramparts, but she was too busy to listen to them. She thought of nothing but her enterprise, which absorbed all her powers. She arose at six a.m., in the dark, and by seven-thirty M. Niepce and his friend had been served with breakfast, and much general work was already done. At eight o'clock she went out to market. When asked why she continued to buy at a high price, articles of which she had a store, she would reply: "I am keeping all that till things are much dearer." This was regarded as astounding39 astuteness40.
On the fifteenth of October she paid the quarter's rent of the flat, four hundred francs, and was accepted as tenant41. Her ears were soon quite accustomed to the sound of cannon42, and she felt that she had always been a citizeness of Paris, and that Paris had always been besieged43. She did not speculate about the end of the siege; she lived from day to day. Occasionally she had a qualm of fear, when the firing grew momentarily louder, or when she heard that battles had been fought in such and such a suburb. But then she said it was absurd to be afraid when you were with a couple of million people, all in the same plight44 as yourself. She grew reconciled to everything. She even began to like her tiny bedroom, partly because it was so easy to keep warm (the question of artificial heat was growing acute in Paris), and partly because it ensured her privacy. Down in the flat, whatever was done or said in one room could be more or less heard in all the others, owing to the prevalence of doors.
Her existence, in the first half of November, had become regular with a monotony almost absolute. Only the number of meals served to her boarders varied45 slightly from day to day. All these repasts, save now and then one in the evening, were carried into the bedrooms by the charwoman. Sophia did not allow herself to be seen much, except in the afternoons. Though Sophia continued to increase her prices, and was now selling her stores at an immense profit, she never approached the prices current outside. She was very indignant against the exploitation of Paris by its shopkeepers, who had vast supplies of provender47, and were hoarding48 for the rise. But the force of their example was too great for her to ignore it entirely49; she contented50 herself with about half their gains. Only to M. Niepce did she charge more than to the others, because he was a shopkeeper. The four men appreciated their paradise. In them developed that agreeable feeling of security which solitary51 males find only under the roof of a landlady52 who is at once prompt, honest, and a votary53 of cleanliness. Sophia hung a slate54 near the frontdoor, and on this slate they wrote their requests for meals, for being called, for laundry-work, etc. Sophia never made a mistake, and never forgot. The perfection of the domestic machine amazed these men, who had been accustomed to something quite different, and who every day heard harrowing stories of discomfort55 and swindling from their acquaintances. They even admired Sophia for making them pay, if not too high, still high. They thought it wonderful that she should tell them the price of all things in advance, and even show them how to avoid expense, particularly in the matter of warmth. She arranged rugs for each of them, so that they could sit comfortably in their rooms with nothing but a small charcoal heater for the hands. Quite naturally they came to regard her as the paragon56 and miracle of women. They endowed her with every fine quality. According to them there had never been such a woman in the history of mankind; there could not have been! She became legendary57 among their friends: a young and elegant creature, surpassingly beautiful, proud, queenly, unapproachable, scarcely visible, a marvellous manager, a fine cook and artificer of strange English dishes, utterly58 reliable, utterly exact and with habits of order ...! They adored the slight English accent which gave a touch of the exotic to her very correct and freely idiomatic59 French. In short, Sophia was perfect for them, an impossible woman. Whatever she did was right.
And she went up to her room every night with limbs exhausted60, but with head clear enough to balance her accounts and go through her money. She did this in bed with thick gloves on. If often she did not sleep well, it was not because of the distant guns, but because of her preoccupation with the subject of finance. She was making money, and she wanted to make more. She was always inventing ways of economy. She was so anxious to achieve independence that money was always in her mind. She began to love gold, to love hoarding it, and to hate paying it away.
One morning her charwoman, who by good fortune was nearly as precise as Sophia herself, failed to appear. When the moment came for serving M. Niepce's breakfast, Sophia hesitated, and then decided61 to look after the old man personally. She knocked at his door, and went boldly in with the tray and candle. He started at seeing her; she was wearing a blue apron62, as the charwoman did, but there could be no mistaking her for the charwoman. Niepce looked older in bed than when dressed. He had a rather ridiculous, undignified appearance, common among old men before their morning toilette is achieved; and a nightcap did not improve it. His rotund paunch lifted the bedclothes, upon which, for the sake of extra warmth, he had spread unmajestic garments. Sophia smiled to herself; but the contempt implied by that secret smile was softened64 by the thought: "Poor old man!" She told him briefly that she supposed the charwoman to be ill. He coughed and moved nervously65. His benevolent66 and simple face beamed on her paternally67 as she fixed the tray by the bed.
"I really must open the window for one little second," she said, and did so. The chill air of the street came through the closed shutters68, and the old man made a noise as of shivering. She pushed back the shutters, and closed the window, and then did the same with the other two windows. It was almost day in the room.
"You will no longer need the candle," she said, and came back to the bedside to extinguish it.
The benign69 and fatherly old man put his arm round her waist. Fresh from the tonic18 of pure air, and with the notion of his ridiculousness still in her mind, she was staggered for an instant by this gesture. She had never given a thought to the temperament70 of the old grocer, the husband of a young wife. She could not always imaginatively keep in mind the effect of her own radiance, especially under such circumstances. But after an instant her precocious71 cynicism, which had slept, sprang up. "Naturally! I might have expected it!" she thought with blasting scorn.
"Take away your hand!" she said bitterly to the amiable72 old fool. She did not stir.
He obeyed, sheepishly.
"Do you wish to remain with me?" she asked, and as he did not immediately answer, she said in a most commanding tone: "Answer, then!"
"Yes," he said feebly.
"Well, behave properly."
She went towards the door.
"I wished only--" he stammered73.
"I do not wish to know what you wished," she said.
Afterwards she wondered how much of the incident had been overheard. The other breakfasts she left outside the respective doors; and in future Niepce's also.
The charwoman never came again. She had caught smallpox75 and she died of it, thus losing a good situation. Strange to say, Sophia did not replace her; the temptation to save her wages and food was too strong. She could not, however, stand waiting for hours at the door of the official baker76 and the official butcher, one of a long line of frozen women, for the daily rations77 of bread and tri- weekly rations of meat. She employed the concierge's boy, at two sous an hour, to do this. Sometimes he would come in with his hands so blue and cold that he could scarcely hold the precious cards which gave the right to the rations and which cost Chirac an hour or two of waiting at the mayoral offices each week. Sophia might have fed her flock without resorting to the official rations, but she would not sacrifice the economy which they represented. She demanded thick clothes for the concierge's boy, and received boots from Chirac, gloves from Carlier, and a great overcoat from Niepce. The weather increased in severity, and provisions in price. One day she sold to the wife of a chemist who lived on the first floor, for a hundred and ten francs, a ham for which she had paid less than thirty francs. She was conscious of a thrill of joy in receiving a beautiful banknote and a gold coin in exchange for a mere74 ham. By this time her total cash resources had grown to nearly five thousand francs. It was astounding. And the reserves in the cellar were still considerable, and the sack of flour that encumbered78 the kitchen was still more than half full. The death of the faithful charwoman, when she heard of it, produced but little effect on Sophia, who was so overworked and so completely absorbed in her own affairs that she had no nervous energy to spare for sentimental79 regrets. The charwoman, by whose side she had regularly passed many hours in the kitchen, so that she knew every crease46 in her face and fold of her dress, vanished out of Sophia's memory.
Sophia cleaned and arranged two of the bedrooms in the morning, and two in the afternoon. She had stayed in hotels where fifteen bedrooms were in charge of a single chambermaid, and she thought it would be hard if she could not manage four in the intervals of cooking and other work! This she said to herself by way of excuse for not engaging another charwoman. One afternoon she was rubbing the brass80 knobs of the numerous doors in M. Niepce's room, when the grocer unexpectedly came in.
She glanced at him sharply. There was a self-conscious look in his eye. He had entered the flat noiselessly. She remembered having told him, in response to a question, that she now did his room in the afternoon. Why should he have left his shop? He hung up his hat behind the door, with the meticulous81 care of an old man. Then he took off his overcoat and rubbed his hands.
"You do well to wear gloves, madame," he said. "It is dog's weather."
"I do not wear them for the cold," she replied. "I wear them so as not to spoil my hands."
"Ah! truly! Very well! Very well! May I demand some wood? Where shall I find it? I do not wish to derange82 you."
She refused his help, and brought wood from the kitchen, counting the logs audibly before him.
"Shall I light the fire now?" she asked.
"I will light it," he said.
"Give me a match, please."
As she was arranging the wood and paper, he said: "Madame, will you listen to me?"
"What is it?"
"Do not be angry," he said. "Have I not proved that I am capable of respecting you? I continue in that respect. It is with all that respect that I say to you that I love you, madame. ... No, remain calm, I implore83 you!" The fact was that Sophia showed no sign of not remaining calm. "It is true that I have a wife. But what do you wish ...? She is far away. I love you madly," he proceeded with dignified63 respect. "I know I am old; but I am rich. I understand your character. You are a lady, you are decided, direct, sincere, and a woman of business. I have the greatest respect for you. One can talk to you as one could not to another woman. You prefer directness and sincerity84. Madame, I will give you two thousand francs a month, and all you require from my shop, if you will be amiable to me. I am very solitary, I need the society of a charming creature who would be sympathetic. Two thousand francs a month. It is money."
He wiped his shiny head with his hand.
Sophia was bending over the fire. She turned her head towards him.
"Is that all?" she said quietly.
"You could count on my discretion," he said in a low voice. "I appreciate your scruples85. I would come, very late, to your room on the sixth. One could arrange ... You see, I am direct, like you."
She had an impulse to order him tempestuously86 out of the flat; but it was not a genuine impulse. He was an old fool. Why not treat him as such? To take him seriously would be absurd. Moreover, he was a very remunerative87 boarder.
"Do not be stupid," she said with cruel tranquillity88. "Do not be an old fool."
And the benign but fatuous89 middle-aged lecher saw the enchanting90 vision of Sophia, with her natty91 apron and her amusing gloves, sweep and fade from the room. He left the house, and the expensive fire warmed an empty room.
Sophia was angry with him. He had evidently planned the proposal. If capable of respect, he was evidently also capable of chicane. But she supposed these Frenchmen were all alike: disgusting; and decided that it was useless to worry over a universal fact. They had simply no shame, and she had been very prudent92 to establish herself far away on the sixth floor. She hoped that none of the other boarders had overheard Niepce's outrageous93 insolence94. She was not sure if Chirac was not writing in his room.
That night there was no sound of cannon in the distance, and Sophia for some time was unable to sleep. She woke up with a start, after a doze95, and struck a match to look at her watch. It had stopped. She had forgotten to wind it up, which omission96 indicated that the grocer had perturbed97 her more than she thought. She could not be sure how long she had slept. The hour might be two o'clock or it might be six o'clock. Impossible for her to rest! She got up and dressed (in case it should be as late as she feared) and crept down the interminable creaking stairs with the candle. As she descended98, the conviction that it was the middle of the night grew upon her, and she stepped more softly. There was no sound save that caused by her footfalls. With her latchkey she cautiously opened the front door of the flat and entered. She could then hear the noisy ticking of the small, cheap clock in the kitchen. At the same moment another door creaked, and Chirac, with hair all tousled, but fully99 dressed, appeared in the corridor.
"So you have decided to sell yourself to him!" Chirac whispered.
She drew away instinctively100, and she could feel herself blushing. She was at a loss. She saw that Chirac was in a furious rage, tremendously moved. He crept towards her, half crouching101. She had never seen anything so theatrical102 as his movement, and the twitching103 of his face. She felt that she too ought to be theatrical, that she ought nobly to scorn his infamous104 suggestion, his unwarrantable attack. Even supposing that she had decided to sell herself to the old pasha, did that concern him? A dignified silence, an annihilating105 glance, were all that he deserved. But she was not capable of this heroic behaviour.
"What time is it?" she added weakly.
"Three o'clock," Chirac sneered106.
"I forgot to wind up my watch," she said. "And so I came down to see."
"In effect!" He spoke sarcastically107, as if saying: "I've waited for you, and here you are."
She said to herself that she owed him nothing, but all the time she felt that he and she were the only young people in that flat, and that she did owe to him the proof that she was guiltless of the supreme108 dishonour109 of youth. She collected her forces and looked at him.
"You should be ashamed," she said. "You will wake the others."
"And M. Niepce--will he need to be wakened?"
"M. Niepce is not here," she said.
Niepce's door was unlatched. She pushed it open, and went into the room, which was empty and bore no sign of having been used.
"Come and satisfy yourself!" she insisted.
Chirac did so. His face fell.
She took her watch from her pocket.
"And now wind my watch, and set it, please."
She saw that he was in anguish110. He could not take the watch. Tears came into his eyes. Then he hid his face, and dashed away. She heard a sob-impeded murmur111 that sounded like, "Forgive me!" and the banging of a door. And in the stillness she heard the regular snoring of M. Carlier. She too cried. Her vision was blurred112 by a mist, and she stumbled into the kitchen and seized the clock, and carried it with her upstairs, and shivered in the intense cold of the night. She wept gently for a very long time. "What a shame! What a shame!" she said to herself. Yet she did not quite blame Chirac. The frost drove her into bed, but not to sleep. She continued to cry. At dawn her eyes were inflamed113 with weeping. She was back in the kitchen then. Chirac's door was wide open. He had left the flat. On the slate was written, "I shall not take meals to-day."
收听单词发音 |
1
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
livelihood
|
|
| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
utilize
|
|
| vt.使用，利用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
foresight
|
|
| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
commonsense
|
|
| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
tenacity
|
|
| n.坚韧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
candid
|
|
| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
reiterating
|
|
| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
candidly
|
|
| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
pessimism
|
|
| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
tonic
|
|
| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
harassed
|
|
| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
prunes
|
|
| n.西梅脯，西梅干( prune的名词复数 )v.修剪（树木等）( prune的第三人称单数 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
figs
|
|
| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
charcoal
|
|
| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
marketing
|
|
| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lodgers
|
|
| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
intermittently
|
|
| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
intervals
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
concierge
|
|
| n.管理员；门房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
caustic
|
|
| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
immunity
|
|
| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
impending
|
|
| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
astounding
|
|
| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
astuteness
|
|
| n.敏锐；精明；机敏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
cannon
|
|
| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
besieged
|
|
| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
plight
|
|
| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
crease
|
|
| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
provender
|
|
| n.刍草；秣料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
hoarding
|
|
| n.贮藏；积蓄；临时围墙；囤积v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
landlady
|
|
| n.女房东，女地主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
votary
|
|
| n.崇拜者；爱好者；adj.誓约的，立誓任圣职的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
slate
|
|
| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
paragon
|
|
| n.模范，典型 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
legendary
|
|
| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
idiomatic
|
|
| adj.成语的，符合语言习惯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
paternally
|
|
| adv.父亲似地；父亲一般地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
benign
|
|
| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
precocious
|
|
| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
smallpox
|
|
| n.天花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
baker
|
|
| n.面包师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
rations
|
|
| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
encumbered
|
|
| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
meticulous
|
|
| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
derange
|
|
| v.使精神错乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
implore
|
|
| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
tempestuously
|
|
| adv.剧烈地，暴风雨似地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
remunerative
|
|
| adj.有报酬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
tranquillity
|
|
| n. 平静, 安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
fatuous
|
|
| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
enchanting
|
|
| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
natty
|
|
| adj.整洁的，漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
outrageous
|
|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
insolence
|
|
| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
doze
|
|
| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
omission
|
|
| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
perturbed
|
|
| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
crouching
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
theatrical
|
|
| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
twitching
|
|
| n.颤搐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
infamous
|
|
| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
annihilating
|
|
| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
sneered
|
|
| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
sarcastically
|
|
| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
dishonour
|
|
| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
inflamed
|
|
| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |