THE charms of Monte Carlo are many. Our first morning there, to the sound of a horn blowing reveille in the distance, I was up betimes enjoying the wonderful spectacles from my balcony. The sun was just peeping up over the surface of an indigo1 sea, shooting sharp golden glances in every direction. Up on the mountains, which rise sharp and clear like great unornamented cathedrals back of the jeweled villages of this coast, it was picking out shepherd’s hut and fallen mementoes of the glory that was Rome. A sailboat or two was already making its way out to sea, and below me on that long point of land which is Cap Martin, stretching like a thin green spear into the sea, was the splendid olive orchard2 which I noted3 the day before, its gleaming leaves showing a different shade of green from what it had then. I did not know it until the subject came up that olive trees live to be a thousand years old and that they do as well here on this little strip of coast, protected by the high mountains at their back, as they do anywhere in Italy. In fact, as I think of it, this lovely projection4 of land, no wider than to permit of a few small villages and cities crowding between the sea and the mountains, is a true projection of Italy itself, its palms, olive trees, cypresses6, umbrella trees and its peasants and architecture. I understand that a bastard7 French—half French, half Italian—is spoken here and that only here are the hill cities truly the same as they are in Italy.
While I was gazing at the morning sun and the blue276 sea and marveling how quickly the comfortable Riviera Express had whirled us out of the cold winds of Paris into this sun-kissed land, Barfleur must have been up and shaving, for presently he appeared, pink and clean in his brown dressing-gown, to sit out on my lovely balcony with me.
“You know,” he said, after he had commented on the wonder of the morning and the delicious soothing9 quality of the cool air, “Scorp is certainly an old fuss-button. There he lies in there now, ready to pounce10 on us. Of course he isn’t very strong physically11 and that makes him irritable12. He does so love to be contrary.”
“I think he is a good running-mate for you,” I observed. “If he leans to asceticism13 in the matter of food, you certainly run to the other extreme. Sybaritic is a mild expression for your character.”
“You don’t mean it?”
“I certainly do.”
“In what way have I shown myself sybaritic?”
I charged him with various crimes. My amicable16 lecture was interrupted by the arrival of rolls and coffee and we decided17 to take breakfast in the company of Scorp. We knocked at his door.
“Entrez!”
There he was, propped18 up in bed, his ascetic14 face crowned by his brownish black hair and set with those burning dark eyes—a figure of almost classic significance.
“Ah!” he exclaimed grimly, “here he comes. The gourmet’s guide to Europe!”
“Now, do be cheerful this morning, Scorp, do be,” cooed Barfleur. “Remember it is a lovely morning. You are on the Riviera. We are going to have a charming time.”
277
“You are, anyway!” commented Scorp.
“I am the most sacrificial of men, I assure you,” commented Barfleur. “I would do anything to make you happy. We will go up to La Turbie to-day, if you say, and order a charming lunch. After that we will go to Eze, if you say, and on to Nice for dinner, if you think fit. We will go into the Casino there for a little while and then return. Isn’t that a simple and satisfactory program? Dreiser and I will walk up to La Turbie. You can join us at one for lunch. You think he ought to see Eze, don’t you?”
“Yes, if there isn’t some Café de Paris hidden away up there somewhere where you can gormandize again. If we can just manage to get you past the restaurants!”
So it was agreed: Barfleur and I would walk; Sir Scorp was to follow by train. As the day was balmy and perfect, all those special articles of adornment19 purchased in London for this trip were extracted from our luggage and duly put on—light weight suits, straw hats and ties of delicate tints20; and then we set forth21. The road lay in easy swinging S’s, up and up past terraced vineyards and garden patches and old stone cottages and ambling22 muleteers with their patient little donkeys heavily burdened. Automobiles23, I noticed, even at this height came grumbling24 up or tearing down—and always the cypress5 tree with its whispering black-green needles and the graceful25 umbrella tree made artistic26 architectural frames for the vistas27 of the sea.
Here and now I should like to pay my tribute to the cypress tree. I saw it later in all its perfection at Pisa, Rome, Florence, Spello, Assisi and elsewhere in Italy, but here at Monte Carlo, or rather outside of it, I saw it first. I never saw it connected with anything tawdry or commonplace and wherever it grows there is dignity and beauty. It is not to be seen anywhere in immediate278 contact with this feverish28 Casino world of Monte Carlo. It is as proud as beauty itself, as haughty29 as achievement. By old ruins, in sacred burial grounds, by worn gates and forgotten palaces it sways and sighs. It is as mournful as death—as somber30 in its mien31 as great age and experience—a tree of the elders. Where Rome grew it grew, and to Greek and Roman temples in their prime and pride it added its sacred company.
Plant a cypress tree near my grave when I am dead. To think of its tall spearlike body towering like a stately monument over me would be all that I could artistically32 ask. If some of this illusory substance which seems to be that which is I, physically, here on this earth, should mingle33 with its fretted34 roots and be builded into the noble shaft35 of its body I should be glad. It would be a graceful and artistic way to disappear into the unknown.
Our climb to La Turbie was in every respect delightful36. We stopped often to comment on the cathedral-like character of the peaks, to speculate as to the age of the stone huts.
About half way up we came to a little inn called the Corniche, which really hangs on the cornice of this great range, commanding the wide, blue sweep of the Mediterranean37 below; and here, under the shade of umbrella trees and cypresses and with the mimosa in full bloom and with some blossom which Barfleur called “cherry-pie” blowing everywhere, we took seats at a little green table to have a pot of tea. It is an American inn—this Corniche—with an American flag fluttering high on a white pole, and an American atmosphere not unlike that of a country farmhouse38 in Indiana. There were some chickens scratching about the door; and at least three canaries in separate bright brass39 cages hung in the branches of the surrounding trees. They sang279 with tremendous energy. With the passing of a muleteer, whose spotted40 cotton shirt and earth-colored trousers and dusty skin bespoke41 the lean, narrow life of the peasant, we discussed wealth and poverty, lavish42 expenditure43 and meager44 subsistence, the locust-like quality of the women of fashion and of pleasure, who eat and eat and gorge45 and glut46 themselves of the showy things of life without aim or even thought; the peasant on this mountainside, with perhaps no more than ten cents a day to set his beggar board, while below the idle company in the Casino, shining like a white temple from where we sat, were wasting thousands upon thousands of dollars hourly. Barfleur agreed most solemnly with it all. He was quite sympathetic. The tables there, he said, even while we looked, were glutted47 with gold, and the Prince of Monaco was building, with his surplus earnings48, useless marine49 museums which no one visited.
I was constantly forgetting in our peregrinations about the neighborhood how small the Principality of Monaco is. I am sure it would fit nicely into ten city blocks. A large portion of Monte Carlo encroaches on French territory—only the Casino, the terrace, the heights of Monaco belong to the Principality. One-half of a well-known restaurant there, I believe, is in Monaco and the other half in France. La Turbie, on the heights here, the long road we had come, almost everything in fact, was in France. We went into the French post-office to mail cards and then on to the French restaurant commanding the heights. This particular restaurant commands a magnificent view. A circle about which the automobiles turned in front of its door was supported by a stone wall resting on the sharp slope of the mountain below. All the windows of its principal dining-room looked out over the sea, and of the wonderful view I was never weary. The room had an oriental touch,280 and the white tables and black-coated waiters accorded ill with this. Still it offered that smartness of service which only the French restaurants possess.
Barfleur was for waiting for Scorp who had not arrived. I was for eating, as I was hungry. Finally we sat down to luncheon50 and we were consuming the sweet when in he came. His brownish-black eyes burned with their usual critical fire. If Sir Scorp had been born with a religious, reforming spirit instead of a penchant51 for art he would have been a St. Francis of Assisi. As it was, without anything to base it on, except Barfleur’s gormandizing propensities52, he had already established moral censorship over our actions.
“Ah, here you are, eating as usual,” he observed with that touch of lofty sarcasm53 which at once amused and irritated me. “No excursion without a meal as its object.”
“Sit down, El Greco,” I commented, “and note the beautiful view. This should delight your esthetic54 soul.”
“It might delight mine, but I am not so sure about yours. Barfleur would certainly see nothing in it if there were not a restaurant here—ha!”
“I found a waiter here who used to serve me in the Café Royal in London,” observed Barfleur cheerfully.
“Now we can die content,” sighed Scorp. “We have been recognized by a French waiter on the Riviera. Ha! Never happy,” he added, turning to me, “unless he is being recognized by waiters somewhere—his one claim to glory.”
We went out to see the ruined monument to Augustus Cæsar, crumbling55 on this high mountain and commanding the great blue sweep of the Mediterranean below. There were a number of things in connection with this monument which were exceedingly interesting. It illustrated56 so well the Roman method of construction: a vast281 core of rubble57 and brick, faced with marble. Barfleur informed me that only recently the French government had issued an order preventing the removal of any more of the marble, much of which had already been stolen, carted away or cut up here into other forms. Immense marble drums of pure white stone were still lying about, fallen from their places; and in the surrounding huts of the peasant residents of La Turbie could be seen parts of once noble pillars set into the fabric58 of their shabby doorways59 or used as corner-stones to support their pathetic little shelters. I recall seeing several of these immense drums of stone set at queer angles under the paper walls of the huts, the native peasants having built on them as a base, quite as a spider might attach its gossamer60 net to a substantial bush or stone. I reflected at length on the fate of greatness and how little the treasures of one age may be entrusted61 to another. Time and chance, dullness and wasteful62 ignorance, lie in wait for them all.
The village of La Turbie, although in France, gave me my first real taste of the Italian village. High up on this mountain above Monte Carlo, in touch really with the quintessence of showy expenditure—clothes, jewels, architecture, food—here it stood, quite as it must have been standing63 for the last three or four hundred years—its narrow streets clambering up and down between houses of gray stone or brick, covered with gray lichens64. I thought of Benvenuto Cellini—how he always turned the corners of the dark, narrow streets of Rome in as wide a circle as possible in order to save himself from any lurking66 assassin—that he might draw his own knife quickly. Dirt and age and quaintness67 and romance: it was in these terms that La Turbie spoke8 to us. Although anxious to proceed to Eze, not so very far away, which they both assured me was so much more picturesque282 and characteristic, yet we lingered, looking lovingly up and down narrow passages where stairs clambered gracefully68, where arches curved picturesquely69 over streets, and where plants bloomed bravely in spotted, crumbling windows. Age! age! And with it men, women and children of the usual poverty-stricken Italian type—not French, but Italians. Women with bunchy blue or purple skirts, white or colored kerchiefs, black hair, wrinkled, yellow or blackish-brown faces, glittering dark eyes and claw-like hands.
Not far from the center of this moldy70 scene, flourishing like a great lichen65 at the foot of Augustus, his magnificent column, was a public fountain, of what date I do not know. The housewives of the community were hard at their washing, piling the wet clothes in soapy masses on the stone rim15 of the basin. They were pattering and chattering71, their skirts looped up at their hips72, their heads wound about with cloths of various colors. It brought back to my mind, by way of contrast, the gloomy wash- and bath-house in Bethnal Green, which I have previously73 commented on. Despite poverty and ignorance, the scene here was so much more inviting—even inspiring. Under a blue sky, in the rays of a bright afternoon sun, beside a moldering but none the less lovely fountain, they seemed a very different kind of mortal—far more fortunate than those I had seen in Bethnal Green and Stepney. What can governments do toward supplying blue skies, broken fountains and humanly stirring and delightful atmosphere? Would Socialism provide these things?
With many backward glances, we departed, conveyed hence in an inadequate74 little vehicle drawn75 by one of the boniest horses it has ever been my lot to ride behind. The cheerful driver was as fat as his horse was lean, and as dusty as the road itself. We were wedged tightly283 in the single green cloth seat, Scorp on one side, I on the other, Barfleur in the middle, expatiating76 as usual on the charm of life and enduring cheerfully all the cares and difficulties of his exalted77 and self-constituted office of guide, mentor78 and friend.
Deep green valleys, dizzy precipices79 along which the narrow road skirted nervously80, tall tops of hills that rose about you craggily or pastorally—so runs the road to Eze and we followed it jestingly, Sir Scorp so dizzy contemplating81 the depths that we had to hold him in. Barfleur was gay and ebullient82. I never knew a man who could become so easily intoxicated83 with life.
“There you have it,” said Sir Scorp, pointing far down a green slope to where a shepherd was watching his sheep, a cape84 coat over his arm, a crooked85 staff in his hand; “there is your pastoral, lineally descended86 from the ancient Greeks. Barfleur pretends to love nature, but that would not bring him out here. There is no canard87 à la presse attached to it—no sole walewski.”
“And see the goose-girl!” I exclaimed, as a maiden88 in bare feet, her skirt falling half way below her knees, crossed the road.
“All provided, my dear boy,” assured Barfleur, beaming on me through his monocle. “Everything as it should be for you. You see how I do. Goose-girls, shepherds, public fountains, old monuments to Cæsar, anything you like. I will show you Eze now. Nothing finer in Europe.”
We were nearing Eze around the green edge of a mountain—its top—and there I saw it, my first hill-city. Not unlike La Turbie, it was old and gray, but with that spectacular dignity which anything set on a hill possesses. Barfleur carefully explained to me that in the olden days—some few hundred years before—the inhabitants of the seashore and plain were compelled284 to take to the hills to protect themselves against marauding pirates—that the hill-city dates from the earliest times in Italy and was common to the Latins before the dawn of history. Eze towered up, completely surrounded by a wall, the only road leading to it being the one on which we were traveling. By a bridge we crossed a narrow gully, dividing one mountain height from another, and then, discharging our fat cabman and his bony horse, mounted to the open gate or arched door, now quite unguarded. Some of the village children were selling the common flowers of the field, and a native in tight dusty trousers and soft hat was entering.
I think I devoured89 the strangeness and glamour90 of Eze as one very hungry would eat a meal. I examined all the peculiarities91 of this outer entrance and noted how like a hole in a snail92 shell it was, giving not directly into the old city, or village, but into a path that skirted the outer wall. Above were holes through which defenders93 could shower arrows and boiling oil upon those who might have penetrated94 this outer defense95. There was a blind passage at one point, luring96 the invaders97 into a devilish pocket where their fate was sealed. If one gained this first gate and the second, which gave into a narrow, winding98, upward-climbing street, the fighting would be hand to hand and always upward against men on a higher level. The citadel99, as we found at last, was now a red and gray brick ruin, only some arches and angles of which were left, crowning the summit, from which the streets descended like the whorls of a snail-shell. Gray cobble-stone, and long narrow bricks set on their sides, form the streets or passages. The squat100 houses of brick and gray stone followed closely the convolutions of the street. It was a silent, sleepy little city. Few people were about. The small shops were guarded by old women or children. The men were285 sheep-herders, muleteers, gardeners and farmers on the slopes below. Anything that is sold in this high-placed city is brought up to it on the backs of slow-climbing, recalcitrant101 donkeys. One blessed thing, the sewage problem of these older Italian-French cities, because of their situation on the hillside, solves itself—otherwise, God help the cities. Barfleur insisted that there was leprosy hereabouts—a depressing thought.
Climbing up and around these various streets, peering in at the meager little windows where tobacco, fruit, cheese and modest staples102 were sold, we reached finally the summit of Eze, where for the first time in Italy—I count the Riviera Italian—the guide nuisance began. An old woman, in patois103 French, insisted on chanting about the ruins. Sir Scorp kept repeating, “No, no, my good woman, go away,” and I said in English, “Run, tell it to Barfleur. He is the bell-wether of this flock.”
Barfleur clambered to safety up a cracked wall of the ruin and from his dizzy height eyed her calmly and bade her “Run along, now.” But it was like King Canute bidding the sea to retreat, till she had successfully taken toll104 of us. Meanwhile we stared in delight at the Mediterranean, at the olive groves105, the distant shepherds, at the lovely blue vistas and the pale threads of roads.
We were so anxious to get to Nice in time for dinner, and so opposed to making our way by the long dusty road which lay down the mountain, that we decided to make a short cut of it and go down the rocky side of the hill by a foot-wide path which was pointed106 out to us by the village priest, a haggard specimen107 of a man who, in thin cassock and beggarly shoes and hat, paraded before his crumbling little church door. We were a noble company, if somewhat out of the picture, as we piled down this narrow mountaineer’s track—Barfleur in a brilliant checked suit and white hat, and Sir Scorp286 in very smart black. My best yellow shoes (ninety francs in Paris) lent a pleasing note to my otherwise inconspicuous attire108, and gave me some concern, for the going was most rough and uncertain.
We passed shepherds tending sheep on sharp slopes, a donkey-driver making his way upward with three donkeys all heavily laden109, an umbrella-tree sheltering a peasant so ancient that he must have endured from Grecian days, and olive groves whose shadows were as rich as that bronze which time has favored with its patina110. It seemed impossible that half way between Monte Carlo and Nice—those twin worlds of spendthrift fashion and pampered111 vice—should endure a scene so idyllic112. The Vale of Arcady is here; all that art could suggest or fancy desire, a world of simple things. Such scenes as this, remarked Sir Scorp, were favored by his great artistic admiration—Daubigny.
We found a railway station somewhere, and then we got to Nice for dinner. Once more a soul-stirring argument between Barfleur and Sir Scorp. We would take tea at Rumpelmeyer’s—we would not take tea at Rumpelmeyer’s. We would dine at The Regence; we would not dine at The Regence. We would pay I-forget-how-many louis and enter the baccarat chambers113 of the Casino; we would not do anything of the sort. It was desired by Barfleur that I should see the wonders of the sea-walk with the waves spraying the protecting wall. It was desired by Scorp that I should look in all the jewelry114 shop windows with him and hear him instruct in the jeweler’s art. How these matters were finally adjusted is lost in the haze115 of succeeding impressions. We did have tea at Rumpelmeyer’s, however—a very commonplace but bright affair—and then we loitered in front of shop windows where Sir Scorp pointed out really astounding116 jewels offered to the public for fabulous287 sums. One great diamond he knew to have been in the possession of the Sultan of Turkey, and you may well trust his word and his understanding. A certain necklace here displayed had once been in his possession and was now offered at exactly ten times what he had originally sold it for. A certain cut steel brooch—very large and very handsome—was designed by himself, and was first given as a remembrance to a friend. Result—endless imitation by the best shops. He dallied117 over rubies118 and emeralds, suggesting charming uses for them. And then finally we came to the Casino—the Casino Municipale—with its baccarat chambers, its great dining-rooms, its public lounging-room with such a world of green wicker chairs and tables as I have never seen. The great piers119 at Atlantic City are not so large. Being the height of the season, it was of course filled to overflowing120 by a brilliant throng—cocottes and gamblers drawn here from all parts of Europe; and tourists of all nationalities.
Sir Scorp, as usual, in his gentle but decided way, raised an argument concerning what we should have for dinner. The mere121 suggestion that it should be canard à la presse and champagne122 threw him into a dyspeptic chill. “I will not pay for it. You can spend your money showing off if you choose; but I will eat a simple meal somewhere else.”
“Oh, no,” protested Barfleur. “We are here for a pleasant evening. I think it important that Dreiser should see this. It need not be canard à la presse. We can have sole and a light Burgundy.”
So sole it was, and a light Burgundy, and a bottle of water for Sir Scorp.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
indigo
|
|
| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
orchard
|
|
| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
projection
|
|
| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
cypress
|
|
| n.柏树 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
cypresses
|
|
| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bastard
|
|
| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
pounce
|
|
| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
irritable
|
|
| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
asceticism
|
|
| n.禁欲主义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
ascetic
|
|
| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
rim
|
|
| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
amicable
|
|
| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
propped
|
|
| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
adornment
|
|
| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
ambling
|
|
| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
automobiles
|
|
| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
grumbling
|
|
| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
vistas
|
|
| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
somber
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
mien
|
|
| n.风采；态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
artistically
|
|
| adv.艺术性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
fretted
|
|
| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
shaft
|
|
| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
Mediterranean
|
|
| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
farmhouse
|
|
| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
spotted
|
|
| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
bespoke
|
|
| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
lavish
|
|
| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
meager
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
gorge
|
|
| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
glut
|
|
| n.存货过多，供过于求；v.狼吞虎咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
glutted
|
|
| v.吃得过多( glut的过去式和过去分词 )；（对胃口、欲望等）纵情满足；使厌腻；塞满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
earnings
|
|
| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
marine
|
|
| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
penchant
|
|
| n.爱好，嗜好；（强烈的）倾向 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
propensities
|
|
| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
sarcasm
|
|
| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
esthetic
|
|
| adj.美学的，审美的；悦目的，雅致的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
crumbling
|
|
| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
rubble
|
|
| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
fabric
|
|
| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
doorways
|
|
| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
gossamer
|
|
| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
wasteful
|
|
| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
lichens
|
|
| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
lichen
|
|
| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
lurking
|
|
| 潜在 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
quaintness
|
|
| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
gracefully
|
|
| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
picturesquely
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
moldy
|
|
| adj.发霉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
chattering
|
|
| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
hips
|
|
| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
expatiating
|
|
| v.详述，细说( expatiate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
exalted
|
|
| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
mentor
|
|
| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
precipices
|
|
| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
ebullient
|
|
| adj.兴高采烈的，奔放的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
intoxicated
|
|
| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
cape
|
|
| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
canard
|
|
| n.虚报；谣言；v.流传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
devoured
|
|
| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
glamour
|
|
| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
peculiarities
|
|
| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
snail
|
|
| n.蜗牛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
defenders
|
|
| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
defense
|
|
| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
luring
|
|
| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
invaders
|
|
| 入侵者，侵略者，侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
citadel
|
|
| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
squat
|
|
| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
recalcitrant
|
|
| adj.倔强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
staples
|
|
| n.（某国的）主要产品( staple的名词复数 )；钉书钉；U 形钉；主要部份v.用钉书钉钉住( staple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
patois
|
|
| n.方言；混合语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
toll
|
|
| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
groves
|
|
| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
patina
|
|
| n.铜器上的绿锈，年久而产生的光泽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
pampered
|
|
| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
idyllic
|
|
| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
jewelry
|
|
| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
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： |
|
|
|
|
117
dallied
|
|
| v.随随便便地对待( dally的过去式和过去分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
rubies
|
|
| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
piers
|
|
| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
overflowing
|
|
| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
champagne
|
|
| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |