Mr. Barnstaple spent a large part of the night sitting upon his bed and brooding over the incalculable elements of the situation in which he found himself.
What could he do? What ought he to do? Where did his loyalty1 lie? The dark traditions and infections of the earth had turned this wonderful encounter into an ugly and dangerous antagonism2 far too swiftly for him to adjust his mind to the new situation. Before him now only two possibilities seemed open. Either the Utopians would prove themselves altogether the stronger and the wiser and he and all his fellow pirates would be crushed and killed like vermin, or the desperate ambitions of Mr. Catskill would be realized and they would become a spreading sore in the fair body of this noble civilization, a band of robbers and destroyers, dragging Utopia year by year and age by age back to terrestrial conditions. There seemed only one escape from the dilemma3; to get away from this fastness to the Utopians, to reveal the whole scheme of the Earthlings to them, and to throw himself and his associates upon their mercy. But this must be done soon, before the hostages were seized and bloodshed began.
But in the first place it might be very difficult now to get away from the Earthling band. Mr. Catskill would already have organized watchers and sentinels, and the peculiar4 position of the crag exposed every avenue of escape. And in the next place Mr. Barnstaple had a life-long habit of mind which predisposed him against tale-bearing and dissentient action. His school training had moulded him into subservience5 to any group or gang in which he found himself; his form, his side, his house, his school, his club, his party and so forth6. Yet his intelligence and his limitless curiosities had always been opposed to these narrow conspiracies7 against the world at large. His spirit had made him an uncomfortable rebel throughout his whole earthly existence. He loathed8 political parties and political leaders, he despised and rejected nationalism and imperialism9 and all the tawdry loyalties10 associated with them; the aggressive conqueror11, the grabbing financier, the shoving business man, he hated as he hated wasps12, rats, hyenas13, sharks, fleas14, nettles15 and the like: all his life he had been a citizen of Utopia exiled upon earth. After his fashion he had sought to serve Utopia. Why should he not serve Utopia now? Because his band was a little and desperate band, that was no reason why he should serve the things he hated. If they were a desperate crew, the fact remained that they were also, as a whole, an evil crew. There is no reason why liberalism should degenerate16 into a morbid17 passion for minorities. . . .
Only two persons among the Earthlings, Lady Stella and Mr. Burleigh, held any of his sympathy. And he had his doubts about Mr. Burleigh. Mr. Burleigh was one of those strange people who seem to understand everything and feel nothing. He impressed Mr. Barnstaple as being intelligently irresponsible. Wasn’t that really more evil than being unintelligently adventurous18 like Hunker or Barralonga?
Mr. Barnstaple’s mind returned from a long excursion in ethics19 to the realities about him. To-morrow he would survey the position and make his plans, and perhaps in the twilight20 he would slip away.
It was entirely21 in his character to defer22 action in this way for the better part of the day. His life had been one of deferred23 action almost from the beginning.
Section 2
But events could not wait for Mr. Barnstaple.
He was called at dawn by Penk, who told him that henceforth the garrison24 would be aroused every morning by an electric hooter he and Ridley had contrived25. As Penk spoke26 a devastating27 howl from this contrivance inaugurated the new era. He handed Mr. Barnstaple a slip of paper torn from a note-book on which Mr. Catskill had written:—
“Non-comb. Barnaby. To assist Ridley prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner, times and menu on mess-room wall, clear away and wash up smartly and at other times to be at disposal of Lt. Hunker, in chemical laboratory for experimenting and bomb-making. Keep laboratory clean.”
“That’s your job,” said Penk. “Ridley’s waitin’ for you.”
“Well,” said Mr. Barnstaple, and got up. It was no use precipitating28 a quarrel if he was to escape. So he went to the scarred and bandaged Ridley, and they produced a very good imitation of a British military kitchen in that great raw year, 1914.
Everyone was turned out to breakfast at half-past six by a second solo on the hooter. The men were paraded and inspected by Mr. Catskill, with M. Dupont standing29 beside him; Mr. Hunker stood parallel with these two and a few yards away; all the other men fell in except Mr. Burleigh, who was to be civil commander in Utopia, and was, in that capacity, in bed, and Mr. Barnstaple the non-combatant. Miss Greeta Grey and Lady Stella sat in a sunny corner of the courtyard sewing at a flag. It was to be a blue flag with a white star, a design sufficiently30 unlike any existing national flag to avoid wounding the patriotic31 susceptibilities of any of the party. It was to represent the Earthling League of Nations.
After the parade the little garrison dispersed32 to its various posts and duties, M. Dupont assumed the chief command, and Mr. Catskill, who had watched all night, went to lie down. He had the Napoleonic quality of going off to sleep for an hour or so at any time in the day.
Mr. Penk went up to the top of the castle, where the hooter was installed, to keep a look out.
There were some moments to be snatched between the time when Mr. Barnstaple had finished with Ridley and the time when Hunker would discover his help was available, and this time he devoted33 to an inspection34 of the castle wall on the side of the slopes. While he was standing on the old rampart weighing his chances of slipping away that evening in the twilight, an aeroplane appeared above the crag and came down upon the nearer slope. Two Utopians descended35, talked with their aviator36 for a time, and then turned their faces towards the fastness of the Earthlings.
A single note of the hooter brought out Mr. Catskill upon the rampart beside Mr. Barnstaple. He produced a field-glass and surveyed the approaching figures.
“Serpentine37 and Cedar38,” he said, lowering his field-glass. “And they come alone. Good.”
He turned round and signalled with his hand to Penk, who responded with two short whoops39 of his instrument. This was the signal for a general assembly.
Down below in the courtyard appeared the rest of the Allied40 force and Mr. Hunker and fell in with a reasonable imitation of discipline.
Mr. Catskill passed Mr. Barnstaple without taking any notice of him, joined M. Dupont, Mr. Hunker and their subordinates below and proceeded to instruct them in his plans for the forthcoming crisis. Mr. Barnstaple could not hear what was said. He noted41 with sardonic42 disapproval43 that each man, as Mr. Catskill finished with him, clicked his heels together and saluted44. Then at a word of command they dispersed to their posts.
There was a partly ruined flight of steps leading down from the general level of the courtyard through this great archway in the wall that gave access to and from the slopes below. Ridley and Mush went down to the right of these steps and placed themselves below a projecting mass of masonry45 so as to be hidden from anyone approaching from below. Father Amerton and Mr. Hunker concealed46 themselves similarly to the left. Father Amerton, Mr. Barnstaple noted, had been given a coil of rope, and then his roving eye discovered Mr. Mush glancing at a pistol in his hand and then replacing it in his pocket. Lord Barralonga took up a position for himself some steps above Mr. Mush and produced a revolver which he held in his one efficient hand. Mr. Catskill remained at the head of the stairs. He also was holding a revolver. He turned to the citadel47, considered the case of Penk for a moment, and then motioned him down to join the others. M. Dupont, armed with a stout48 table leg, placed himself at Mr. Catskill’s right hand.
For a time Mr. Barnstaple watched these dispositions49 without any realization50 of their significance. Then his eyes went from the crouching51 figures within the castle to the two unsuspecting Utopians who were coming up towards them, and he realized that in a couple of minutes Serpentine and Cedar would be struggling in the grip of their captors. . . .
He perceived he had to act. And his had been a contemplative, critical life with no habit of decision.
He found himself trembling violently.
Section 3
He still desired some mediatory52 intervention53 even in these fatal last moments. He raised an arm and cried “Hi!” as much to the Earthlings below as to the Utopians without. No one noticed either his gesture or his feeble cry.
Then his will seemed to break through a tangle54 of obstacles to one simple idea. Serpentine and Cedar must not be seized. He was amazed and indignant at his own vacillation55. Of course they must not be seized! This foolery must be thwarted56 forthwith. In four strides he was on the wall above the archway and now he was shouting loud and clear. “Danger!” he shouted. “Danger!” and again “Danger!”
He heard Catskill’s cry of astonishment57 and then a pistol bullet whipped through the air close to him.
Serpentine stopped short and looked up, touched Cedar’s arm and pointed58.
“These Earthlings want to imprison59 you. Don’t come here! Danger!” yelled Mr. Barnstaple waving his arms and “pat, pat, pat,” Mr. Catskill experienced the disappointments of revolver shooting.
Serpentine and Cedar were turning back — but slowly and hesitatingly.
For a moment Mr. Catskill knew not what to do. Then he flung himself down the steps, crying, “After them! Stop them! Come on!”
“Go back!” cried Mr. Barnstaple to the Utopians. “Go back! Quickly! Quickly!”
Came a clatter60 of feet from below and then the eight men who constituted the combatant strength of the Earthling forces in Utopia emerged from under the archway running towards the two astonished Utopians. Mr. Mush led, with Ridley at his heels; he was pointing his revolver and shouting. Next came M. Dupont zealous61 and active. Father Amerton brought up the rear with the rope.
“Go back!” screamed Mr. Barnstaple, with his voice breaking.
Then he stopped shouting and watched — with his hands clenched62.
The aviator was running down the slope from his machine to the assistance of Serpentine and Cedar. And above out of the blue two other aeroplanes had appeared.
The two Utopians disdained63 to hurry and in a few seconds their pursuers had come up with them. Hunker, Ridley and Mush led the attack. M. Dupont, flourishing his stick, was abreast64 with them but running out to the right as though he intended to get between them and the aviator. Mr. Catskill and Penk were a little behind the leading three; the one-armed Barralonga was perhaps ten yards behind and Father Amerton had halted to re-coil his rope more conveniently.
There seemed to be a moment’s parley65 and then Serpentine had moved quickly as if to seize Hunker. A pistol cracked and then another went off rapidly three times. “Oh God!” cried Mr. Barnstaple. “Oh God!” as he saw Serpentine throw up his arms and fall backward, and then Cedar had grasped and lifted up Mush and hurled66 him at Mr. Catskill and Penk, bowling67 both of them over into one indistinguishable heap. With a wild cry M. Dupont closed in on Cedar but not quickly enough. His club shot into the air as Cedar parried his blow, and then the Utopian stooped, caught him by a leg, overthrew68 him, lifted him and whirled him round as one might whirl a rabbit, to inflict69 a stunning70 blow on Mr. Hunker.
Lord Barralonga ran back some paces and began shooting at the approaching aviator.
The confusion of legs and arms on the ground became three separate people again. Mr. Catskill shouting directions, made for Cedar, followed by Penk and Mush and, a moment after by Hunker and Dupont. They clung to Cedar as hounds will cling to a boar. Time after time he flung them off him. Father Amerton hovered71 unhelpfully with his rope.
For some moments Mr. Barnstaple’s attention was concentrated upon this swaying and staggering attempt to overpower Cedar, and then he became aware of other Utopians running down the slope to join the fray72. . . . The other two aeroplanes had landed.
Mr. Catskill realized the coming of these reinforcements almost as soon as Mr. Barnstaple. His shouts of “Back! Back to the castle!” reached Mr. Barnstaple’s ears. The Earthlings scattered73 away from the tall dishevelled figure, hesitated, and began walk and then run back towards the castle.
And then Ridley turned and very deliberately74 shot Cedar, who clutched at his breast and fell into a sitting position.
The Earthlings retreated to the foot of the steps that led up through the archway into the castle, and stood there in a panting, bruised75 and ruffled76 group. Fifty yards away Serpentine lay still, the aviator whom Barralonga had shot writhed77 and moaned, and Cedar sat up with blood upon his chest trying to feel his back. Five other Utopians came hurrying to their assistance.
“What is all this firing?” said Lady Stella, suddenly at Mr. Barnstaple’s elbow.
“Have they caught their hostages?” asked Miss Greeta Grey.
“For the life of me!” said Mr. Burleigh, who had come out upon the wall a yard or so away, “this ought never to have happened. How did this get — muffed, Lady Stella?”
“I called out to them,” said Mr. Barnstaple.
“You — called — out to them!” said Mr. Burleigh incredulous.
“Treason I did not calculate upon,” came the wrathful voice of Mr. Catskill ascending79 out of the archway.
Section 4
For some moments Mr. Barnstaple made no attempt to escape the danger that closed in upon him. He had always lived a life of very great security and with him, as with so many highly civilized80 types, the power of apprehending81 personal danger was very largely atrophied82. He was a spectator by temperament83 and training alike. He stood now as if he looked at himself, the central figure of a great and hopeless tragedy. The idea of flight came belatedly, in a reluctant and apologetic manner into his mind.
“Shot as a traitor84,” he said aloud. “Shot as a traitor.”
There was that bridge over the narrow gorge85. He might still get over that, if he went for it at once. If he was quick — quicker than they were. He was too intelligent to dash off for it; that would certainly have set the others running. He walked along the wall in a leisurely86 fashion past Mr. Burleigh, himself too civilized to intervene. In a quickening stroll he gained the steps that led to the citadel. Then he stood still for a moment to survey the situation. Catskill was busy setting sentinels at the gate. Perhaps he had not thought yet of the little bridge and imagined that Mr. Barnstaple was at his disposal at any time that suited him. Up the slope the Utopians were carrying off the dead or wounded men.
Mr. Barnstaple ascended87 the steps as if buried in thought and stood on the citadel for some seconds, his hands in his trouser pockets, as if he surveyed the view. Then he turned to the winding88 staircase that went down to a sort of guard-room below. As soon as he was surely out of sight he began to think and move very quickly.
The guard-room was perplexing. It had five doors, any one of which except the one by which he had just entered the room, might lead down to the staircase. Against one, however, stood a pile of neat packing-cases. That left three to choose from, He ran from one to the other leaving each door open. In each case stone steps ran down to a landing and a turning place. He stood hesitating at the third and noted that a cold draught89 came blowing up from it. Surely that meant that this went down to the cliff face, or whence came the air? Surely this was it!
Should he shut the doors he had opened? No! Leave them all open.
He heard a clatter coming down the staircase from the citadel. Softly and swiftly he ran down the steps and halted for a second at the corner landing. He was compelled to stop and listen to the movements of his pursuers. “This is the door to the bridge, Sir!” he heard Ridley cry, and then he heard Catskill say, “The Tarpeian Rock,” and Barralonga, “Exactly! Why should we waste a cartridge90? Are you sure this goes to the bridge, Ridley?”
The footsteps pattered across the guard-room and passed — down one of the other staircases.
“A reprieve91!” whispered Mr. Barnstaple and then stopped aghast.
He was trapped! The staircase they were on was the staircase to the bridge!
They would go down as far as the bridge and as soon as they got to it they would see that he was neither on it nor on the steps on the opposite side of the gorge and that therefore he could not possibly have escaped. They would certainly bar that way either by closing and fastening any door there might be or, failing such a barrier, by setting a sentinel, and then they would come back and hunt for him at their leisure.
What was it Catskill had been saying? The Tarpeian Rock? . . .
Horrible!
They mustn’t take him alive. . . .
He must fight like a rat in a corner and oblige them to shoot him. . . .
He went on down the staircase. It became very dark and then grew light again. It ended in an ordinary big cellar, which may once have been a gun-pit or magazine. It was fairly well lit by two unglazed windows cut in the rock. It now contained a store of provisions. Along one side stood an array of the flask92-like bottles that were used for wine in Utopia; along the other was a miscellany of packing-cases and cubes wrapped in gold-leaf. He lifted one of the glass flasks93 by its neck. It would make an effective club. Suppose he made a sort of barrier of the packing-cases across the entrance and stood beside it and clubbed the pursuers as they came in! Glass and wine would smash over their skulls94. . . . It would take time to make the barrier. . . . He chose and carried three of the larger flasks to the doorway95 where they would be handy for him. Then he had an inspiration and looked at the window.
He listened at the door of the staircase for a time. Not a sound came from above. He went to the window and lay down in the deep embrasure and wriggled96 forward until he could see out and up and down. The cliff below fell sheer; he could have spat97 on to the brawling98 torrent99 fifteen hundred feet perhaps below. The crag here was made up of almost vertical100 strata101 which projected and receded102; a big buttress103 hid almost all of the bridge except the far end which seemed to be about twenty or thirty yards lower than the opening from which Mr. Barnstaple was looking. Mr. Catskill appeared upon this bridge, very small and distant, scrutinizing104 the rocky stair-way beyond the bridge. Mr. Barnstaple withdrew his head hastily. Then very discreetly105 he peeped again. Mr. Catskill was no longer to be seen. He was coming back.
To business! There was not much time.
In his earlier days before the Great War had made travel dear and uncomfortable Mr. Barnstaple had done some rock climbing in Switzerland and he had also had some experience in Cumberland and Wales. He surveyed now the rocks close at hand with an intelligent expertness. They were cut by almost horizontal joint106 planes into which there had been a considerable infiltration107 chiefly of white crystalline material. This stuff, which he guessed was calcite, had weathered more rapidly than the general material of the rock, leaving a series of irregular horizontal grooves108. With luck it might be possible to work along the cliff face, turn the buttress and scramble109 to the bridge.
And then came an even more hopeful idea. He could easily get along the cliff face to the first recess110, flatten111 himself there and remain until the Earthlings had searched his cellar. After they had searched he might creep back to the cellar. Even if they looked out of the window they would not see him and even if he left finger marks and so forth in the embrasure, they would be likely to conclude that he had either jumped or fallen down the crag into the gorge below. But at first it might be slow work negotiating the cliff face. . . . And this would cut him off from his weapons, the flasks. . . .
But the idea of hiding in the recess had taken a strong hold upon his imagination. Very cautiously he got out of the window, found a handhold, got his feet on to his ledge112 and began to work his way along towards his niche113.
But there were unexpected difficulties, a gap of nearly five yards in the handhold — nothing. He had to flatten himself and trust to his feet and for a time he remained quite still in that position.
Further on was a rotten lump of the vein114 mineral and it broke away under him very disconcertingly, but happily his fingers had a grip and the other foot was firm. The detached crystals slithered down the rock face for a moment and then made no further sound. They had dropped into the void. For a time he was paralyzed.
“I’m not in good form,” whispered Mr. Barnstaple. “I’m not in good form.”
He clung motionless and prayed.
With an effort he resumed his traverse.
He was at the very corner of the recess when some faint noise drew his eyes to the window from which he had emerged. Ridley’s face was poked115 out slowly and cautiously, his eye red and fierce among his white bandages.
Section 5
He did not at first see Mr. Barnstaple. “Gawd!” he said when he did so and withdrew his head hastily.
Came a sound of voices saying indistinguishable things.
Some inappropriate instinct kept Mr. Barnstaple quite still, though he could have got into cover in the recess quite easily before Mr. Catskill looked out revolver in hand.
For some moments they stared at each other in silence.
“Come back or I shoot,” said Mr. Catskill unconvincingly.
“Shoot!” said Mr. Barnstaple after a moment’s reflection.
Mr. Catskill craned his head out and stared down into the shadowy blue depths of the canyon116. “It isn’t necessary,” he answered. “We have to save cartridges117.”
“You haven’t the guts,” said Mr. Barnstaple.
“It’s not quite that,” said Mr. Catskill.
“No,” said Mr. Barnstaple, “it isn’t. You are fundamentally a civilized man.”
Mr. Catskill scowled118 at him without hostility119.
“You have a very good imagination,” Mr. Barnstaple reflected. “The trouble is that you have been so damnably educated. What is the trouble with you? You are be-Kiplinged. Empire and Anglo–Saxon and boy-scout and sleuth are the stuff in your mind. If I had gone to Eton I might have been the same as you are, I suppose.”
“Harrow,” corrected Mr. Catskill.
“A perfectly120 beastly public school. Suburban121 place where the boys wear chignons and straw haloes. I might have guessed Harrow. But it’s queer I bear you no malice122. Given decent ideas you might have been very different from what you are. If I had been your schoolmaster — But it’s too late now.”
“It is,” said Mr. Rupert Catskill smiling genially123 and cocked his eye down into the canyon.
Mr. Barnstaple began to feel for his ledge round the corner with one foot.
“Don’t go for a minute,” said Mr. Catskill. “I’m not going to shoot.”
A voice from within, probably Lord Barralonga’s, said something about heaving a rock at Mr. Barnstaple. Someone else, probably Ridley, approved ferociously124.
“Not without due form of trial,” said Mr. Catskill over his shoulder. His face was inscrutable, but a fantastic idea began to run about in Mr. Barnstaple’s mind that Mr. Catskill did not want to have him killed. He had thought about things and he wanted him now to escape — to the Utopians and perhaps rig up some sort of settlement with them.
“We intend to try you, Sir,” said Mr. Catskill. “We intend to try you. We cite you to appear.”
Mr. Catskill moistened his lips and considered. “The court will sit almost at once.” His little bright brown eyes estimated the chances of Mr. Barnstaple’s position very rapidly. He craned towards the bridge. “We shall not waste time over our procedure,” he said. “And I have little doubt of our verdict. We shall condemn125 you to death. So — there you are, Sir. I doubt if we shall be more than a quarter of an hour before your fate is legally settled.”
He glanced up trying to see the crest126 of the crag. “We shall probably throw rocks,” he said.
“Moriturus te saluo,” said Mr. Barnstaple with an air of making a witty127 remark. “If you will forgive me I will go on now to find a more comfortable position.”
Mr. Catskill remained looking hard at him.
“I’ve never borne you any ill-will,” said Mr. Barnstaple. “Had I been your schoolmaster everything might have been different. Thanks for the quarter of an hour more you give me. And if by any chance —”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Catskill.
They understood one another.
When Mr. Barnstaple stepped round the bend into the recess Mr. Catskill was still looking out and Lord Barralonga was faintly audible advocating the immediate128 heaving of rocks.
Section 6
The ways of the human mind are past finding out. From desperation Mr. Barnstaple’s mood had passed to exhilaration. His first sick horror of climbing above this immense height had given place now to an almost boyish assurance. His sense of immediate death had gone. He was appreciating this adventure, indeed he was enjoying it, with an entire disregard now of how it was to end.
He made fairly good time until he got to the angle of the buttress, though his arms began to ache rather badly, and then he had a shock. He had now a full view of the bridge and up the narrow gorge. The ledge he was working along did not run to the bridge at all. It ran a good thirty feet below it. And what was worse, between himself and the bridge were two gullies and chimneys of uncertain depth. At this discovery he regretted for the first time that he had not stayed in the cellar and made a fight for it there.
He had some minutes of indecision — with the ache in his arms increasing.
He was roused from his inaction by what he thought at first was the shadow of a swift-flying bird on the rock. Presently it returned. He hoped he was not to be assailed129 by birds. He had read a story — but never mind that now.
Then came a loud crack overhead, and he glanced up to see a lump of rock which had just struck a little bulge130 above him fly to fragments. From which incident he gathered firstly that the court had delivered an adverse131 verdict rather in advance of Mr. Catskill’s time, and secondly132 that he was visible from above. He resumed his traverse towards the shelter of the gully with feverish133 energy.
The gully was better than he expected, a chimney; difficult, he thought, to ascend78, but quite practicable downward. It was completely overhung. And perhaps a hundred feet below there was a sort of step in it that gave a quite broad recess, sheltered from above and with room enough for a man to sprawl134 on it if he wanted to do so. There would be rest for Mr. Barnstaple’s arms, and without any needless delay he clambered down to it and abandoned himself to the delightful135 sensation of not holding on to anything. He was out of sight and out of reach of his Earthling pursuers.
In the back of the recess was a trickle136 of water. He drank and began to think of food and to regret that he had not brought some provision with him from the store in the cellar. He might have opened one of those gold-leaf-covered cubes or pocketed a small flask of wine. Wine would be very heartening just now. But it did not do to think of that. He stayed for a long time, as it seemed to him, on this precious shelf, scrutinizing the chimney below very carefully. It seemed quite practicable for a long way down. The sides became very smooth, but they seemed close enough together to get down with his back against one side and his feet against the other.
He looked at his wrist-watch. It was still not nine o’clock in the morning — it was about ten minutes to nine. He had been called by Ridley before half-past five. At half-past six he had been handing out breakfast in the courtyard. Serpentine and Cedar must have appeared about eight o’clock. In about ten minutes Serpentine had been murdered. Then the flight and the pursuit. How quickly things had happened! . . .
He had all day before him. He would resume his descent at half-past nine. Until then he would rest. . . . It was absurd to feel hungry yet. . . .
He was climbing again before half-past nine. For perhaps a hundred feet it was easy. Then by imperceptible degrees the gully broadened. He only realized it when he found himself slipping. He slipped, struggling furiously, for perhaps twenty feet, and then fell outright137 another ten and struck a rock and was held by a second shelf much broader than the one above. He came down on it with a jarring concussion138 and rolled — happily he rolled inward. He was bruised, but not seriously hurt. “My luck,” he said. “My luck holds good.”
He rested for a time, and then, confident that things would be all right, set himself to inspect the next stage of his descent. It was with a sort of incredulity that he discovered the chimney below his shelf was absolutely unclimbable. It was just a straight, smooth rock on either side for twenty yards at least and six feet wide. He might as well fling himself over at once as try to get down that. Then he saw that it was equally impossible to retrace139 his steps. He could not believe it; it seemed too silly. He laughed as one might laugh if one found one’s own mother refusing to recognize one after a day’s absence.
Then abruptly140 he stopped laughing.
He repeated every point in his examination. He fingered the smooth rocks about him. “But this is absurd,” he said breaking out into a cold perspiration141. There was no way out of this corner into which he had so painfully and laboriously142 got himself. He could neither go on nor go back. He was caught. His luck had given out.
Section 7
At midday by his wrist-watch Mr. Barnstaple was sitting in his recess as a weary invalid143 suffering from some incurable144 disease might sit up in an arm-chair during a temporary respite145 from pain, with nothing to do and no hope before him. There was not one chance in ten thousand that anything could happen to release him from this trap into which he had clambered. There was a trickle of water at the back but no food, not even a grass blade to nibble146. Unless he saw fit to pitch himself over into the gorge, he must starve to death. . . . It would perhaps be cold at nights but not cold enough to kill him.
To this end he had come then out of the worried journalism147 of London and the domesticities of Sydenham.
Queer journey it was that he and the Yellow Peril148 had made! — Camberwell, Victoria, Hounslow, Slough149, Utopia, the mountain paradise, a hundred fascinating and tantalizing150 glimpses of a world of real happiness and order, that long, long aeroplane flight half round a world. . . . And now — death.
The idea of abbreviating151 his sufferings by jumping over had no appeal for him. He would stay here and suffer such suffering as there might be before the end. And three hundred yards away or so were his fellow Earthlings, also awaiting their fate. . . . It was amazing. It was prosaic152. . . .
After all to this or something like this most humanity had to come.
Sooner or later people had to live and suffer, they had to think and then think feverishly153 and then weakly, and so fade to a final cessation of thought.
On the whole, he thought, it was preferable to die in this fashion, preferable to a sudden death, it was worth while to look death in the face for a time, have leisure to write finis in one’s mind, to think over life and such living as one had done and think it over with a detachment, an independence, that only an entire inability to alter one jot154 of it now could give.
At present his mind was clear and calm; a bleak155 serenity156 like a clear winter sky possessed157 him. There was suffering ahead, he knew, but he did not believe it would be intolerable suffering. If it proved intolerable the canyon yawned below. In that respect this shelf or rock was a better death bed than most, a more convenient death bed. Your sick bed presented pain with a wide margin158, set it up for your too complete examination. But to starve was not so very dreadful, he had read; hunger and pain there would be, most distressful159 about the third day, and after that one became feeble and did not feel so much. It would not be like the torture of many cancer cases or the agony of brain fever; it would not be one tithe160 as bad as that. Lonely it would be. But is one much less lonely on a death bed at home? They come and say, “There! there!” and do little serviceable things — but are there any other interchanges? . . . You go your solitary161 way, speech and movement and the desire to speak or move passing from you, and their voices fade. . . . Everywhere death is a very solitary act, a going apart. . . .
A younger man would probably have found this loneliness in the gorge very terrible, but Mr. Barnstaple had outlived the intenser delusions162 of companionship. He would have liked a last talk with his boys and to have put his wife into a good frame of mind, but even these desires were perhaps more sentimental163 than real. When it came to talks with his boys he was apt to feel shy. As they had come to have personalities164 of their own and to grow through adolescence165, he had felt more and more that talking intimately to them was an invasion of their right to grow up along their own lines. And they too he felt were shy with him, defensively shy. Perhaps later on sons came back to a man — that was a later on that he would never know now. But he wished he could have let them know what had happened to him. That troubled him. It would set him right in their eyes, it would perhaps be better for their characters, if they did not think — as they were almost bound to think — that he had run away from them or lapsed168 mentally or even fallen into bad company and been made away with. As it was they might be worried and ashamed, needlessly, or put to expense to find out where he was, and that would be a pity.
One had to die. Many men had died as he was going to die, fallen into strange places, lost in dark caverns169, marooned170 on desert islands, astray in the Australian bush, imprisoned171 and left to perish. It was good to die without great anguish172 or insult. He thought of the myriads173 of men who had been crucified by the Romans — was it eight thousand or was it ten thousand of the army of Spartacus that they killed in that fashion along the Appian Way? — of negroes hung in chains to starve, and of an endless variety of such deaths. Shocking to young imaginations such things were and more fearful in thought than in reality. It is all a matter of a little more pain or a little less pain — but God will not have any great waste of pain. Cross, wheel, electric chair or bed of suffering — the thing is, you die and have done.
It was pleasant to find that one could think stoutly174 of these things. It was good to be caught and to find that one was not frantic175. And Mr. Barnstaple was surprised to find how little he cared, now that he faced the issue closely, whether he was immortal176 or whether he was not. He was quite prepared to find himself immortal or at least not ending with death, in whole or in part. It was ridiculous to be dogmatic and say that a part, an impression, of his conscience and even of his willing life might not go on in some fashion. But he found it impossible to imagine how that could be. It was unimaginable. It was not to be anticipated. He had no fear of that continuation. He had no thought nor fear of the possibility of punishment or cruelty. The universe had at times seemed to him to be very carelessly put together, but he had never believed that it was the work of a malignant177 imbecile. It impressed him as immensely careless but not as dominatingly cruel. He had been what he had been, weak and limited and sometimes silly, but the punishment of these defects lay in the defects themselves.
He ceased to think about his own death. He began to think of life generally, its present lowliness, its valiant178 aspiration179. He found himself regretting bitterly that he was not to see more of this Utopian world, which was in so many respects so near an intimation of what our own world may become. It had been very heartening to see human dreams and human ideals vindicated180 by realization, but it was distressing181 to have had the vision snatched away while he was still only beginning to examine it. He found himself asking questions that had no answers for him, about economics, about love and struggle. Anyhow, he was glad to have seen as much as he had. It was good to have been purged182 by this vision and altogether lifted out of the dreary183 hopelessness of Mr. Peeve184, to have got life into perspective again.
The passions and conflicts and discomforts185 of A.D. 1921 were the discomforts of the fever of an uninoculated world. The Age of Confusion on the earth also would, in its own time, work itself out, thanks to a certain obscure and indomitable righteousness in the blood of the human type. Squatting186 in a hole in the cliff of the great crag, with unclimbable heights and depths above him and below, chilly187, hungry and uncomfortable, this thought was a profound comfort to the strangely constituted mind of Mr. Barnstaple.
But how miserably188 had he and his companions failed to rise to the great occasions of Utopia! No one had raised an effectual hand to restrain the puerile189 imaginations of Mr. Catskill and the mere190 brutal191 aggressiveness of his companions. How invincibly192 had Father Amerton headed for the role of the ranting193, hating, persecuting194, quarrel-making priest. How pitifully weak and dishonest Mr. Burleigh — and himself scarcely better! disapproving195 always and always in ineffective opposition196. What an unintelligent beauty-cow that woman Greeta Grey was, receptive, acquisitive, impenetrable to any idea but the idea of what was due to her as a yielding female! Lady Stella was of finer clay, but fired to no service. Women, he thought, had not been well represented in this chance expedition, just one waster and one ineffective. Was that a fair sample of earth’s womankind?
All the use these Earthlings had had for Utopia was to turn it back as speedily as possible to the aggressions, subjugations, cruelties and disorders198 of the Age of Confusion to which they belonged. Serpentine and Cedar, the man of scientific power and the man of healing, they had sought to make hostages to disorder197, and failing that they had killed or sought to kill them.
They had tried to bring back Utopia to the state of earth, and indeed but for the folly199, malice and weakness of men earth was now Utopia. Old Earth was Utopia now, a garden and a glory, the Earthly Paradise, except that it was trampled200 to dust and ruin by its Catskills, Hunkers, Barralongas, Ridleys, Duponts and their kind. Against their hasty trampling201 folly nothing was pitted, it seemed, in the whole wide world at present but the whinings of the Peeves202, the acquiescent203 disapproval of the Burleighs and such immeasurable ineffectiveness as his own protest. And a few writers and teachers who produced results at present untraceable.
Once more Mr. Barnstaple found himself thinking of his old friend, the school inspector204 and school-book writer, who had worked so steadfastly205 and broken down and died so pitifully. He had worked for Utopia all his days. Were there hundreds or thousands of such Utopians yet on earth? What magic upheld them?
“I wish I could get some message through to them,” said Mr. Barnstaple, “to hearten them.”
For it was true, though he himself had to starve and die like a beast fallen into a pit, nevertheless Utopia triumphed and would triumph. The grabbers and fighters, the persecutors and patriots206, the lynchers and boycotters and all the riff-raff of short-sighted human violence, crowded on to final defeat. Even in their lives they know no happiness, they drive from excitement to excitement and from gratification to exhaustion207. Their enterprises and successes, their wars and glories, flare208 and pass. Only the true thing grows, the truth, the clear idea, year by year and age by age, slowly and invincibly as a diamond grows amidst the darkness and pressures of the earth, or as the dawn grows amidst the guttering209 lights of some belated orgy.
What would be the end of those poor little people up above there? Their hold on life was even more precarious210 than his own, for he might lie and starve here slowly for weeks before his mind gave its last flicker211. But they had openly pitted themselves against the might and wisdom of Utopia, and even now the ordered power of that world must be closing in upon them. He still had a faint irrational212 remorse213 for his betrayal of Catskill’s ambush214. He smiled now at the passionate215 conviction he had felt at the time that if once Catskill could capture his hostages, earth might prevail over Utopia. That conviction had rushed him into action. His weak cries had seemed to be all that was left to avert216 this monstrous217 disaster. But suppose he had not been there at all, or suppose he had obeyed the lingering instinct of fellowship that urged him to fight with the others; what then?
When he recalled the sight of Cedar throwing Mush about as one might throw a lap-dog about, and the height and shape of Serpentine, he doubted whether even upon the stairs in the archway it would have been possible for the Earthlings to have overpowered these two. The revolvers would have come into use just as they had come into use upon the slope, and Catskill would have got no hostages but only two murdered men.
How unutterably silly the whole scheme of Catskill had been! But it was no sillier than the behaviour of Catskill, Burleigh and the rest of the world’s statesmen had been on earth, during the last few years. At times during the world agony of the Great War it had seemed that Utopia drew near to earth. The black clouds and smoke of these dark years had been shot with the light of strange hopes, with the promise of a world reborn. But the nationalists, financiers, priests and patriots had brought all those hopes to nothing. They had trusted to old poisons and infections and to the weak resistances of the civilized spirit. They had counted their weapons and set their ambushes218 and kept their women busy sewing flags of discord219. . . .
For a time they had killed hope, but only for a time. For Hope, the redeemer of mankind, there is perpetual resurrection.
“Utopia will win,” said Mr. Barnstaple and for a time he sat listening to a sound he had heard before without heeding220 it very greatly, a purring throb221 in the rocks about him, like the running of some great machine. It grew louder and then faded down to the imperceptible again.
His thoughts came back to his erstwhile companions. He hoped they were not too miserable222 or afraid up there. He was particularly desirous that something should happen to keep up Lady Stella’s courage. He worried affectionately about Lady Stella. For the rest it would be as well if they remained actively223 combative224 to the end. Possibly they were all toiling225 at some preposterous226 and wildly hopeful defensive166 scheme of Catskill’s. Except Mr. Burleigh who would be resting — convinced that for him at least there would still be a gentlemanly way out. And probably not much afraid if there wasn’t. Amerton and possibly Mush might lapse167 into a religious revival227 — that would irritate the others a little, or possibly even provide a mental opiate for Lady Stella and Miss Greeta Grey. Then for Penk there was wine in the cellar. . . .
They would follow the laws of their being, they would do the things that nature and habit would require of them. What else was possible?
Mr. Barnstaple plunged228 into a metaphysical gulf229. . . .
Presently he caught himself looking at his wrist-watch. It was twenty minutes past twelve. He was looking at his watch more and more frequently or time was going more slowly. . . . Should he wind his watch or let it run down? He was already feeling very hungry. That could not be real hunger yet; it must be his imagination getting out of control.
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1
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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subservience
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| n.有利，有益；从属（地位），附属性；屈从，恭顺；媚态 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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conspiracies
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| n.阴谋，密谋( conspiracy的名词复数 ) | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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imperialism
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| n.帝国主义，帝国主义政策 | |
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loyalties
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| n.忠诚( loyalty的名词复数 )；忠心；忠于…感情；要忠于…的强烈感情 | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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13
hyenas
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| n.鬣狗( hyena的名词复数 ) | |
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14
fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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21
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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precipitating
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| adj.急落的，猛冲的v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的现在分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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aviator
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| n.飞行家，飞行员 | |
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serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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whoops
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| int.呼喊声 | |
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allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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45
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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51
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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52
mediatory
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| 斡旋的，调解的 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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54
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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55
vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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56
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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imprison
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| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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66
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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bowling
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| n.保龄球运动 | |
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overthrew
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| overthrow的过去式 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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72
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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73
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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apprehending
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的现在分词 )； 理解 | |
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82
atrophied
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| adj.萎缩的，衰退的v.（使）萎缩，（使）虚脱，（使）衰退( atrophy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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84
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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85
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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86
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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87
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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89
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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90
cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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91
reprieve
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| n.暂缓执行（死刑）；v.缓期执行；给…带来缓解 | |
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92
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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93
flasks
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| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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94
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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95
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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96
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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97
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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98
brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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99
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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100
vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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101
strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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102
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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103
buttress
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| n.支撑物；v.支持 | |
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104
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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105
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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106
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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107
infiltration
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| n.渗透；下渗；渗滤；入渗 | |
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108
grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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109
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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110
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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111
flatten
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| v.把．．．弄平，使倒伏；使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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112
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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113
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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114
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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115
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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116
canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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117
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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118
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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119
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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120
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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121
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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122
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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123
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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124
ferociously
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| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
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125
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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126
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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127
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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128
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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129
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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130
bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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131
adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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132
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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133
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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134
sprawl
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| vi.躺卧，扩张，蔓延；vt.使蔓延；n.躺卧，蔓延 | |
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135
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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136
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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137
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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138
concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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139
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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140
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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141
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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142
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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143
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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144
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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145
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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146
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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147
journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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148
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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149
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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150
tantalizing
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| adj.逗人的；惹弄人的；撩人的；煽情的v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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151
abbreviating
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| 使简短( abbreviate的现在分词 )； 缩简； 缩略； 使用缩写词 | |
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152
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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153
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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154
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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155
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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156
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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157
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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158
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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159
distressful
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| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
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160
tithe
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| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
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161
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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162
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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163
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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164
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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165
adolescence
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| n.青春期，青少年 | |
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166
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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167
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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168
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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169
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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170
marooned
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| adj.被围困的；孤立无援的；无法脱身的 | |
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171
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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172
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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173
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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174
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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175
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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176
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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177
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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178
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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179
aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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180
vindicated
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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181
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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182
purged
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| 清除（政敌等）( purge的过去式和过去分词 )； 涤除（罪恶等）； 净化（心灵、风气等）； 消除（错事等）的不良影响 | |
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183
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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184
peeve
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| v.气恼，怨恨；n.麻烦的事物，怨恨 | |
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185
discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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186
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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187
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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188
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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189
puerile
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| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
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190
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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191
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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192
invincibly
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| adv.难战胜地，无敌地 | |
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193
ranting
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| v.夸夸其谈( rant的现在分词 )；大叫大嚷地以…说教；气愤地)大叫大嚷；不停地大声抱怨 | |
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194
persecuting
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的现在分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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195
disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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196
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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197
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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198
disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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199
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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200
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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201
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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202
peeves
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| n.麻烦的事物，怨恨，触怒( peeve的名词复数 ) | |
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203
acquiescent
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| adj.默许的，默认的 | |
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204
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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205
steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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206
patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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207
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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208
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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209
guttering
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| n.用于建排水系统的材料；沟状切除术；开沟 | |
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210
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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211
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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212
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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213
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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214
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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215
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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216
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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217
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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218
ambushes
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| n.埋伏( ambush的名词复数 )；伏击；埋伏着的人；设埋伏点v.埋伏( ambush的第三人称单数 )；埋伏着 | |
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219
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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220
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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221
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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222
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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223
actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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224
combative
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| adj.好战的；好斗的 | |
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225
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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226
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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227
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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228
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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229
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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