章节正文
After his conversation with Almayer he went on board the
schooner, sent Joanna on shore, and shut himself up in his cabin,
feeling very unwell. He made the most of his indisposition to
Almayer, who came to visit him twice a day. It was an excuse for
doing nothing just yet. He wanted to think. He was very angry.
Angry with himself, with Willems. Angry at what Willems had
done--and also angry at what he had left undone. The scoundrel
was not complete. The conception was perfect, but the execution,
unaccountably, fell short. Why? He ought to have cut Almayer's
throat and burnt the place to ashes--then cleared out. Got out
of his way; of him, Lingard! Yet he didn't. Was it impudence,
contempt--or what? He felt hurt at the implied disrespect of his
power, and the incomplete rascality of the proceeding disturbed
him exceedingly. There was something short, something wanting,
something that would have given him a free hand in the work of
retribution. The obvious, the right thing to do, was to shoot
Willems. Yet how could he? Had the fellow resisted, showed
fight, or ran away; had he shown any consciousness of harm done,
it would have been more possible, more natural. But no! The
fellow actually had sent him a message. Wanted to see him. What
for? The thing could not be explained. An unexampled,
cold-blooded treachery, awful, incomprehensible. Why did he do
it? Why? Why? The old seaman in the stuffysolitude of his
little cabin on board the schooner groaned out many times that
question, striking with an open palm his perplexed forehead.
During his four days of seclusion he had received two messages
from the outer world; from that world of Sambir which had, so
suddenly and so finally, slipped from his grasp. One, a few
words from Willems written on a torn-out page of a small
notebook; the other, a communication from Abdulla caligraphed
carefully on a large sheet of flimsy paper and delivered to him
in a green silk wrapper. The first he could not understand. It
said: "Come and see me. I am not afraid. Are you? W." He
tore it up angrily, but before the small bits of dirty paper had
the time to flutter down and settle on the floor, the anger was
gone and was replaced by a sentiment that induced him to go on
his knees, pick up the fragments of the torn message, piece it
together on the top of his chronometer box, and contemplate it
long and thoughtfully, as if he had hoped to read the answer of
the horribleriddle in the very form of the letters that went to
make up that fresh insult. Abdulla's letter he read carefully
and rammed it into his pocket, also with anger, but with anger
that ended in a half-resigned, half-amused smile. He would never
give in as long as there was a chance. "It's generally the
safest way to stick to the ship as long as she will swim," was
one of his favourite sayings: "The safest and the right way. To
abandon a craft because it leaks is easy--but poor work. Poor
work!" Yet he was intelligent enough to know when he was beaten,
and to accept the situation like a man, without repining. When
Almayer came on board that afternoon he handed him the letter
without comment.
Almayer read it, returned it in silence, and leaning over the
taffrail (the two men were on deck) looked down for some time at
the play of the eddies round the schooner's rudder. At last he
said without looking up--
"That's a decent enough letter. Abdulla gives him up to you. I
told you they were getting sick of him. What are you going to
do?"
Lingard cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, opened his mouth
with great determination, but said nothing for a while. At last
he murmured--
"I'll be hanged if I know--just yet."
"I wish you would do something soon . . ."
"What's the hurry?" interrupted Lingard. "He can't get away. As
it stands he is at my mercy, as far as I can see."
"Yes," said Almayer, reflectively--"and very little mercy he
deserves too. Abdulla's meaning--as I can make it out amongst
all those compliments--is: 'Get rid for me of that white man--and
we shall live in peace and share the trade."'
"You believe that?" asked Lingard, contemptuously.
"Not altogether," answered Almayer. "No doubt we will share the
trade for a time--till he can grab the lot. Well, what are you
going to do?"
He looked up as he spoke and was surprised to see Lingard's
discomposed face.
"You ain't well. Pain anywhere?" he asked, with real solicitude.
"I have been queer--you know--these last few days, but no pain."
He struck his broad chest several times, cleared his throat with
a powerful "Hem!" and repeated: "No. No pain. Good for a few
years yet. But I am bothered with all this, I can tell you!"
"You must take care of yourself," said Almayer. Then after a
pause he added: "You will see Abdulla. Won't you?"
"I don't know. Not yet. There's plenty of time," said Lingard,
impatiently.
"I wish you would do something," urged Almayer, moodily. "You
know, that woman is a perfect nuisance to me. She and her brat!
Yelps all day. And the children don't get on together. Yesterday
the little devil wanted to fight with my Nina. Scratched her
face, too. A perfect savage! Like his honourable papa. Yes,
really. She worries about her husband, and whimpers from morning
to night. When she isn't weeping she is furious with me.
Yesterday she tormented me to tell her when he would be back and
cried because he was engaged in such dangerous work. I said
something about it being all right--no necessity to make a fool
of herself, when she turned upon me like a wild cat. Called me a
brute, selfish, heartless; raved about her beloved Peter risking
his life for my benefit, while I did not care. Said I took
advantage of his generous good-nature to get him to do dangerous
work--my work. That he was worth twenty of the likes of me.
That she would tell you--open your eyes as to the kind of man I
was, and so on. That's what I've got to put up with for your
sake. You really might consider me a little. I haven't robbed
anybody," went on Almayer, with an attempt at bitter irony--"or
sold my best friend, but still you ought to have some pity on me.
It's like living in a hot fever. She is out of her wits. You
make my house a refuge for scoundrels and lunatics. It isn't
fair. 'Pon my word it isn't! When she is in her tantrums she is
ridiculously ugly and screeches so--it sets my teeth on edge.
Thank God! my wife got a fit of the sulks and cleared out of the
house. Lives in a riverside hut since that affair--you know.
But this Willems' wife by herself is almost more than I can bear.
And I ask myself why should I? You are exacting and no mistake.
This morning I thought she was going to claw me. Only think!
She wanted to go prancing about the settlement. She might have
heard something there, so I told her she mustn't. It wasn't safe
outside our fences, I said. Thereupon she rushes at me with her
ten nails up to my eyes. 'You miserable man,' she yells, 'even
this place is not safe, and you've sent him up this awful river
where he may lose his head. If he dies before forgiving me,
Heaven will punish you for your crime . . .' My crime! I ask
myself sometimes whether I am dreaming! It will make me ill, all
this. I've lost my appetite already."
He flung his hat on deck and laid hold of his hair despairingly.
Lingard looked at him with concern.
"What did she mean by it?" he muttered, thoughtfully.
"Mean! She is crazy, I tell you--and I will be, very soon, if
this lasts!"
"Just a little patience, Kaspar," pleaded Lingard. "A day or so
more."
Relieved or tired by his violentoutburst, Almayer calmed down,
picked up his hat and, leaning against the bulwark, commenced to
fan himself with it.
"Days do pass," he said, resignedly--"but that kind of thing
makes a man old before his time. What is there to think
about?--I can't imagine! Abdulla says plainly that if you
undertake to pilot his ship out and instruct the half-caste, he
will drop Willems like a hot potato and be your friend ever
after. I believe him perfectly, as to Willems. It's so natural.
As to being your friend it's a lie of course, but we need not
bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Abdulla, and
then whatever happens to Willems will be nobody's business."
He interrupted himself and remained silent for a while, glaring
about with set teeth and dilated nostrils.
"You leave it to me. I'll see to it that something happens to
him," he said at last, with calm ferocity. Lingard smiled
faintly.
"The fellow isn't worth a shot. Not the trouble of it," he
whispered, as if to himself. Almayer fired up suddenly.
"That's what you think," he cried. "You haven't been sewn up in
your hammock to be made a laughing-stock of before a parcel of
savages. Why! I daren't look anybody here in the face while
that scoundrel is alive. I will . . . I will settle him."
"I don't think you will," growled Lingard.
"Do you think I am afraid of him?"
"Bless you! no!" said Lingard with alacrity. "Afraid! Not you.
I know you. I don't doubt your courage. It's your head, my boy,
your head that I . . ."
"That's it," said the aggrieved Almayer. "Go on. Why don't you
call me a fool at once?"
"Because I don't want to," burst out Lingard, with nervous
irritability. "If I wanted to call you a fool, I would do so
without asking your leave." He began to walk athwart the narrow
quarter-deck, kicking ropes' ends out of his way and growling to
himself: "Delicate gentleman . . . what next? . . . I've done
man's work before you could toddle. Understand . . . say what I
like."
"Well! well!" said Almayer, with affectedresignation. "There's
no talking to you these last few days." He put on his hat,
strolled to the gangway and stopped, one foot on the little
inside ladder, as if hesitating, came back and planted himself in
Lingard's way, compelling him to stand still and listen.
"Of course you will do what you like. You never take advice--I
know that; but let me tell you that it wouldn't be honest to let
that fellow get away from here. If you do nothing, that
scoundrel will leave in Abdulla's ship for sure. Abdulla will
make use of him to hurt you and others elsewhere. Willems knows
too much about your affairs. He will cause you lots of trouble.
You mark my words. Lots of trouble. To you--and to others
perhaps. Think of that, Captain Lingard. That's all I've got to
say. Now I must go back on shore. There's lots of work. We
will begin loading this schooner to-morrow morning, first thing.
All the bundles are ready. If you should want me for anything,
hoist some kind of flag on the mainmast. At night two shots will
fetch me." Then he added, in a friendly tone, "Won't you come
and dine in the house to-night? It can't be good for you to stew
on board like that, day after day."
Lingard did not answer. The image evoked by Almayer; the picture
of Willems ranging over the islands and disturbing the harmony of
the universe by robbery, treachery, and violence, held him
silent, entranced--painfully spellbound. Almayer, after waiting
for a little while, moved reluctantly towards the gangway,
lingered there, then sighed and got over the side, going down
step by step. His head disappeared slowly below the rail.
Lingard, who had been staring at him absently, started suddenly,
ran to the side, and looking over, called out--
"Hey! Kaspar! Hold on a bit!"
Almayer signed to his boatmen to cease paddling, and turned his
head towards the schooner. The boat drifted back slowly abreast
of Lingard, nearly alongside.
"Look here," said Lingard, looking down--"I want a good canoe
with four men to-day."
schooner, sent Joanna on shore, and shut himself up in his cabin,
feeling very unwell. He made the most of his indisposition to
Almayer, who came to visit him twice a day. It was an excuse for
doing nothing just yet. He wanted to think. He was very angry.
Angry with himself, with Willems. Angry at what Willems had
done--and also angry at what he had left undone. The scoundrel
was not complete. The conception was perfect, but the execution,
unaccountably, fell short. Why? He ought to have cut Almayer's
throat and burnt the place to ashes--then cleared out. Got out
of his way; of him, Lingard! Yet he didn't. Was it impudence,
contempt--or what? He felt hurt at the implied disrespect of his
power, and the incomplete rascality of the proceeding disturbed
him exceedingly. There was something short, something wanting,
something that would have given him a free hand in the work of
retribution. The obvious, the right thing to do, was to shoot
Willems. Yet how could he? Had the fellow resisted, showed
fight, or ran away; had he shown any consciousness of harm done,
it would have been more possible, more natural. But no! The
fellow actually had sent him a message. Wanted to see him. What
for? The thing could not be explained. An unexampled,
cold-blooded treachery, awful, incomprehensible. Why did he do
it? Why? Why? The old seaman in the stuffysolitude of his
little cabin on board the schooner groaned out many times that
question, striking with an open palm his perplexed forehead.
During his four days of seclusion he had received two messages
from the outer world; from that world of Sambir which had, so
suddenly and so finally, slipped from his grasp. One, a few
words from Willems written on a torn-out page of a small
notebook; the other, a communication from Abdulla caligraphed
carefully on a large sheet of flimsy paper and delivered to him
in a green silk wrapper. The first he could not understand. It
said: "Come and see me. I am not afraid. Are you? W." He
tore it up angrily, but before the small bits of dirty paper had
the time to flutter down and settle on the floor, the anger was
gone and was replaced by a sentiment that induced him to go on
his knees, pick up the fragments of the torn message, piece it
together on the top of his chronometer box, and contemplate it
long and thoughtfully, as if he had hoped to read the answer of
the horribleriddle in the very form of the letters that went to
make up that fresh insult. Abdulla's letter he read carefully
and rammed it into his pocket, also with anger, but with anger
that ended in a half-resigned, half-amused smile. He would never
give in as long as there was a chance. "It's generally the
safest way to stick to the ship as long as she will swim," was
one of his favourite sayings: "The safest and the right way. To
abandon a craft because it leaks is easy--but poor work. Poor
work!" Yet he was intelligent enough to know when he was beaten,
and to accept the situation like a man, without repining. When
Almayer came on board that afternoon he handed him the letter
without comment.
Almayer read it, returned it in silence, and leaning over the
taffrail (the two men were on deck) looked down for some time at
the play of the eddies round the schooner's rudder. At last he
said without looking up--
"That's a decent enough letter. Abdulla gives him up to you. I
told you they were getting sick of him. What are you going to
do?"
Lingard cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, opened his mouth
with great determination, but said nothing for a while. At last
he murmured--
"I'll be hanged if I know--just yet."
"I wish you would do something soon . . ."
"What's the hurry?" interrupted Lingard. "He can't get away. As
it stands he is at my mercy, as far as I can see."
"Yes," said Almayer, reflectively--"and very little mercy he
deserves too. Abdulla's meaning--as I can make it out amongst
all those compliments--is: 'Get rid for me of that white man--and
we shall live in peace and share the trade."'
"You believe that?" asked Lingard, contemptuously.
"Not altogether," answered Almayer. "No doubt we will share the
trade for a time--till he can grab the lot. Well, what are you
going to do?"
He looked up as he spoke and was surprised to see Lingard's
discomposed face.
"You ain't well. Pain anywhere?" he asked, with real solicitude.
"I have been queer--you know--these last few days, but no pain."
He struck his broad chest several times, cleared his throat with
a powerful "Hem!" and repeated: "No. No pain. Good for a few
years yet. But I am bothered with all this, I can tell you!"
"You must take care of yourself," said Almayer. Then after a
pause he added: "You will see Abdulla. Won't you?"
"I don't know. Not yet. There's plenty of time," said Lingard,
impatiently.
"I wish you would do something," urged Almayer, moodily. "You
know, that woman is a perfect nuisance to me. She and her brat!
Yelps all day. And the children don't get on together. Yesterday
the little devil wanted to fight with my Nina. Scratched her
face, too. A perfect savage! Like his honourable papa. Yes,
really. She worries about her husband, and whimpers from morning
to night. When she isn't weeping she is furious with me.
Yesterday she tormented me to tell her when he would be back and
cried because he was engaged in such dangerous work. I said
something about it being all right--no necessity to make a fool
of herself, when she turned upon me like a wild cat. Called me a
brute, selfish, heartless; raved about her beloved Peter risking
his life for my benefit, while I did not care. Said I took
advantage of his generous good-nature to get him to do dangerous
work--my work. That he was worth twenty of the likes of me.
That she would tell you--open your eyes as to the kind of man I
was, and so on. That's what I've got to put up with for your
sake. You really might consider me a little. I haven't robbed
anybody," went on Almayer, with an attempt at bitter irony--"or
sold my best friend, but still you ought to have some pity on me.
It's like living in a hot fever. She is out of her wits. You
make my house a refuge for scoundrels and lunatics. It isn't
fair. 'Pon my word it isn't! When she is in her tantrums she is
ridiculously ugly and screeches so--it sets my teeth on edge.
Thank God! my wife got a fit of the sulks and cleared out of the
house. Lives in a riverside hut since that affair--you know.
But this Willems' wife by herself is almost more than I can bear.
And I ask myself why should I? You are exacting and no mistake.
This morning I thought she was going to claw me. Only think!
She wanted to go prancing about the settlement. She might have
heard something there, so I told her she mustn't. It wasn't safe
outside our fences, I said. Thereupon she rushes at me with her
ten nails up to my eyes. 'You miserable man,' she yells, 'even
this place is not safe, and you've sent him up this awful river
where he may lose his head. If he dies before forgiving me,
Heaven will punish you for your crime . . .' My crime! I ask
myself sometimes whether I am dreaming! It will make me ill, all
this. I've lost my appetite already."
He flung his hat on deck and laid hold of his hair despairingly.
Lingard looked at him with concern.
"What did she mean by it?" he muttered, thoughtfully.
"Mean! She is crazy, I tell you--and I will be, very soon, if
this lasts!"
"Just a little patience, Kaspar," pleaded Lingard. "A day or so
more."
Relieved or tired by his violentoutburst, Almayer calmed down,
picked up his hat and, leaning against the bulwark, commenced to
fan himself with it.
"Days do pass," he said, resignedly--"but that kind of thing
makes a man old before his time. What is there to think
about?--I can't imagine! Abdulla says plainly that if you
undertake to pilot his ship out and instruct the half-caste, he
will drop Willems like a hot potato and be your friend ever
after. I believe him perfectly, as to Willems. It's so natural.
As to being your friend it's a lie of course, but we need not
bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Abdulla, and
then whatever happens to Willems will be nobody's business."
He interrupted himself and remained silent for a while, glaring
about with set teeth and dilated nostrils.
"You leave it to me. I'll see to it that something happens to
him," he said at last, with calm ferocity. Lingard smiled
faintly.
"The fellow isn't worth a shot. Not the trouble of it," he
whispered, as if to himself. Almayer fired up suddenly.
"That's what you think," he cried. "You haven't been sewn up in
your hammock to be made a laughing-stock of before a parcel of
savages. Why! I daren't look anybody here in the face while
that scoundrel is alive. I will . . . I will settle him."
"I don't think you will," growled Lingard.
"Do you think I am afraid of him?"
"Bless you! no!" said Lingard with alacrity. "Afraid! Not you.
I know you. I don't doubt your courage. It's your head, my boy,
your head that I . . ."
"That's it," said the aggrieved Almayer. "Go on. Why don't you
call me a fool at once?"
"Because I don't want to," burst out Lingard, with nervous
irritability. "If I wanted to call you a fool, I would do so
without asking your leave." He began to walk athwart the narrow
quarter-deck, kicking ropes' ends out of his way and growling to
himself: "Delicate gentleman . . . what next? . . . I've done
man's work before you could toddle. Understand . . . say what I
like."
"Well! well!" said Almayer, with affectedresignation. "There's
no talking to you these last few days." He put on his hat,
strolled to the gangway and stopped, one foot on the little
inside ladder, as if hesitating, came back and planted himself in
Lingard's way, compelling him to stand still and listen.
"Of course you will do what you like. You never take advice--I
know that; but let me tell you that it wouldn't be honest to let
that fellow get away from here. If you do nothing, that
scoundrel will leave in Abdulla's ship for sure. Abdulla will
make use of him to hurt you and others elsewhere. Willems knows
too much about your affairs. He will cause you lots of trouble.
You mark my words. Lots of trouble. To you--and to others
perhaps. Think of that, Captain Lingard. That's all I've got to
say. Now I must go back on shore. There's lots of work. We
will begin loading this schooner to-morrow morning, first thing.
All the bundles are ready. If you should want me for anything,
hoist some kind of flag on the mainmast. At night two shots will
fetch me." Then he added, in a friendly tone, "Won't you come
and dine in the house to-night? It can't be good for you to stew
on board like that, day after day."
Lingard did not answer. The image evoked by Almayer; the picture
of Willems ranging over the islands and disturbing the harmony of
the universe by robbery, treachery, and violence, held him
silent, entranced--painfully spellbound. Almayer, after waiting
for a little while, moved reluctantly towards the gangway,
lingered there, then sighed and got over the side, going down
step by step. His head disappeared slowly below the rail.
Lingard, who had been staring at him absently, started suddenly,
ran to the side, and looking over, called out--
"Hey! Kaspar! Hold on a bit!"
Almayer signed to his boatmen to cease paddling, and turned his
head towards the schooner. The boat drifted back slowly abreast
of Lingard, nearly alongside.
"Look here," said Lingard, looking down--"I want a good canoe
with four men to-day."
- obvious [´ɔbviəs]
a.明显的；显而易见的 (初中英语单词) - actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- striking [´straikiŋ] a.显著的，明显的 (初中英语单词)
- communication [kə,mju:ni´keiʃən] n.通信；通讯联系 (初中英语单词)
- flutter [´flʌtə] vi.飘扬；摆 n.拍动 (初中英语单词)
- sentiment [´sentimənt] n.情绪；多愁善感 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- insult [in´sʌlt, ´insʌlt] n.&vt.侮辱；损害 (初中英语单词)
- intelligent [in´telidʒənt] a.聪明的；理智的 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- honourable [´ɔnərəbəl] a.荣誉的；正直的 (初中英语单词)
- furious [´fjuəriəs] a.狂怒的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- selfish [´selfiʃ] a.自私的，利己的 (初中英语单词)
- beloved [bi´lʌvd] a.为....所爱的 n.爱人 (初中英语单词)
- generous [´dʒenərəs] a.慷慨的；丰盛的 (初中英语单词)
- refuge [´refju:dʒ] v.&n.避难(所)；庇护 (初中英语单词)
- thereupon [,ðeərə´pɔn] ad.因此；于是 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- punish [´pʌniʃ] vt.(惩)罚；痛击；折磨 (初中英语单词)
- appetite [´æpitait] n.欲望；食欲 (初中英语单词)
- patience [´peiʃəns] n.忍耐(力)；耐心；坚韧 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- plainly [´pleinli] ad.平坦地；简单地 (初中英语单词)
- instruct [in´strʌkt] vt.教育；指导；通知 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- parcel [´pɑ:sl] n.包裹；一批 vt.区分 (初中英语单词)
- elsewhere [,elsweə] ad.在别处；向别处 (初中英语单词)
- harmony [´hɑ:məni] n.调合，协调，和谐 (初中英语单词)
- violence [´vaiələns] n.猛烈；暴力(行) (初中英语单词)
- conception [kən´sepʃən] n.构思；概念；怀孕 (高中英语单词)
- proceeding [prə´si:diŋ] n.程序；进程；行动 (高中英语单词)
- exceedingly [ik´si:diŋli] ad.非常地，极度地 (高中英语单词)
- consciousness [´kɔnʃəsnis] n.意识；觉悟；知觉 (高中英语单词)
- treachery [´tretʃəri] n.背叛；背信弃义 (高中英语单词)
- stuffy [´stʌfi] a.不通气的；闷热的 (高中英语单词)
- solitude [´sɔlitju:d] n.孤独；寂寞；荒凉 (高中英语单词)
- schooner [´sku:nə] n.纵帆船 (高中英语单词)
- angrily [´æŋgrili] ad.生气地；愤怒地 (高中英语单词)
- contemplate [´kɔntempleit] v.注视；沉思；期待 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtfully [´θɔ:tfuli] ad.深思地；体贴地 (高中英语单词)
- riddle [´ridl] n.谜(语) v.解(谜等) (高中英语单词)
- decent [´di:sənt] a.体面的，正派的 (高中英语单词)
- determination [di,tə:mi´neiʃən] n.决心；决定 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- nuisance [´nju:səns] n.损害；讨厌的人(事) (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- resignation [,rezig´neiʃən] n.辞职(书)；放弃；顺从 (高中英语单词)
- ladder [´lædə] n.梯子；阶梯 (高中英语单词)
- universe [´ju:nivə:s] n.天地；全人类；银河系 (高中英语单词)
- bulwark [´bulwək] n.堡垒；屏障 (英语四级单词)
- hammock [´hæmək] n.吊床；圆丘 (英语四级单词)
- robbery [´rɔbəri] n.抢劫(案)；盗取 (英语四级单词)
- reluctantly [ri´lʌktəntli] a.不情愿地；勉强地 (英语四级单词)
- undone [,ʌn´dʌn] a.未完成的，没有做的 (英语六级单词)
- incomplete [,inkəm´pli:t] a.不完全的，未完成的 (英语六级单词)
- seaman [´si:mən] n.海员，水手 (英语六级单词)
- rudder [´rʌdə] n.(方向)舵；指导原则 (英语六级单词)
- weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
- riverside [´rivəsaid] n.河岸 a.河岸上的 (英语六级单词)
- exacting [ig´zæktiŋ] a.苛求的；严格的 (英语六级单词)
- outburst [´autbə:st] n.喷发；爆发；激增 (英语六级单词)
- ferocity [fə´rɔsiti] n.凶残，凶猛，暴行 (英语六级单词)
- scoundrel [´skaundrəl] n.&a.无赖(的) (英语六级单词)
- affected [ə´fektid] a.做作的；假装的 (英语六级单词)
- absently [´æbsəntli] ad.心不在焉地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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