章节正文
Daisy Miller
by Henry James
IN TWO PARTS
PART I
At the little town of Vevey, in Switzerland, there is a
particularly comfortable hotel. There are, indeed, many hotels,
for the entertainment of tourists is the business of the place,
which, as many travelers will remember, is seated upon the edge
of a remarkably blue lake--a lake that it behooves every tourist
to visit. The shore of the lake presents an unbroken array
of establishments of this order, of every category, from the
"grand hotel" of the newest fashion, with a chalk-white front,
a hundred balconies, and a dozen flags flying from its roof,
to the little Swiss pension of an elder day, with its name
inscribed in German-looking lettering upon a pink or yellow
wall and an awkward summerhouse in the angle of the garden.
One of the hotels at Vevey, however, is famous, even classical,
being distinguished from many of its upstart neighbors
by an air both of luxury and of maturity. In this region,
in the month of June, American travelers are extremely numerous;
it may be said, indeed, that Vevey assumes at this period
some of the characteristics of an American watering place.
There are sights and sounds which evoke a vision, an echo,
of Newport and Saratoga. There is a flitting hither and thither
of "stylish" young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces,
a rattle of dance music in the morning hours, a sound of
high-pitched voices at all times. You receive an impression
of these things at the excellent inn of the "Trois Couronnes"
and are transported in fancy to the Ocean House or to Congress Hall.
But at the "Trois Couronnes," it must be added, there are other
features that are much at variance with these suggestions:
neat German waiters, who look like secretaries of legation;
Russian princesses sitting in the garden; little Polish
boys walking about held by the hand, with their governors;
a view of the sunny crest of the Dent du Midi and the picturesque
towers of the Castle of Chillon.
I hardly know whether it was the analogies or the differences that were
uppermost in the mind of a young American, who, two or three years ago,
sat in the garden of the "Trois Couronnes," looking about him,
rather idly, at some of the graceful objects I have mentioned.
It was a beautiful summer morning, and in whatever fashion the young
American looked at things, they must have seemed to him charming.
He had come from Geneva the day before by the little steamer,
to see his aunt, who was staying at the hotel--Geneva having been
for a long time his place of residence. But his aunt had a headache--
his aunt had almost always a headache--and now she was shut up in
her room, smelling camphor, so that he was at liberty to wander about.
He was some seven-and-twenty years of age; when his friends spoke
of him, they usually said that he was at Geneva "studying."
When his enemies spoke of him, they said--but, after all, he had
no enemies; he was an extremelyamiable fellow, and universally liked.
What I should say is, simply, that when certain persons spoke
of him they affirmed that the reason of his spending so much
time at Geneva was that he was extremelydevoted to a lady
who lived there--a foreign lady--a person older than himself.
Very few Americans--indeed, I think none--had ever seen this lady,
about whom there were some singular stories. But Winterbourne
had an old attachment for the little metropolis of Calvinism;
he had been put to school there as a boy, and he had afterward
gone to college there--circumstances which had led to his forming
a great many youthful friendships. Many of these he had kept,
and they were a source of great satisfaction to him.
After knocking at his aunt's door and learning that she was indisposed,
he had taken a walk about the town, and then he had come in to
his breakfast. He had now finished his breakfast; but he was drinking
a small cup of coffee, which had been served to him on a little table
in the garden by one of the waiters who looked like an attache.
At last he finished his coffee and lit a cigarette. Presently a
small boy came walking along the path--an urchin of nine or ten.
The child, who was diminutive for his years, had an aged expression
of countenance, a pale complexion, and sharp little features.
He was dressed in knickerbockers, with red stockings, which displayed
his poor little spindle-shanks; he also wore a brilliant red cravat.
He carried in his hand a long alpenstock, the sharp point of which
he thrust into everything that he approached--the flowerbeds,
the garden benches, the trains of the ladies' dresses. In front
of Winterbourne he paused, looking at him with a pair of bright,
penetrating little eyes.
"Will you give me a lump of sugar?" he asked in a sharp, hard little voice--
a voice immature and yet, somehow, not young.
Winterbourne glanced at the small table near him, on which his coffee
service rested, and saw that several morsels of sugar remained.
"Yes, you may take one," he answered; "but I don't think sugar
is good for little boys."
This little boy stepped forward and carefully selected three of
the coveted fragments, two of which he buried in the pocket of
his knickerbockers, depositing the other as promptly in another place.
He poked his alpenstock, lance-fashion, into Winterbourne's bench
and tried to crack the lump of sugar with his teeth.
"Oh, blazes; it's har-r-d!" he exclaimed, pronouncing the adjective
in a peculiar manner.
Winterbourne had immediately perceived that he might
have the honor of claiming him as a fellow countryman.
"Take care you don't hurt your teeth," he said, paternally.
"I haven't got any teeth to hurt. They have all come out.
I have only got seven teeth. My mother counted them last night,
and one came out right afterward. She said she'd slap me
if any more came out. I can't help it. It's this old Europe.
It's the climate that makes them come out. In America they
didn't come out. It's these hotels."
Winterbourne was much amused. "If you eat three lumps of sugar,
your mother will certainly slap you," he said.
"She's got to give me some candy, then," rejoined his young interlocutor.
"I can't get any candy here--any American candy. American candy's
the best candy."
"And are American little boys the best little boys?" asked Winterbourne.
"I don't know. I'm an American boy," said the child.
"I see you are one of the best!" laughed Winterbourne.
"Are you an American man?" pursued this vivacious infant.
And then, on Winterbourne's affirmative reply--"American men
are the best," he declared.
His companion thanked him for the compliment, and the child,
who had now got astride of his alpenstock, stood looking
about him, while he attacked a second lump of sugar.
Winterbourne wondered if he himself had been like this in his infancy,
for he had been brought to Europe at about this age.
"Here comes my sister!" cried the child in a moment.
"She's an American girl."
Winterbourne looked along the path and saw a beautiful
young lady advancing. "American girls are the best girls,"
he said cheerfully to his young companion.
"My sister ain't the best!" the child declared.
"She's always blowing at me."
"I imagine that is your fault, not hers," said Winterbourne.
The young lady meanwhile had drawn near. She was dressed in white muslin,
with a hundred frills and flounces, and knots of pale-colored ribbon.
She was bareheaded, but she balanced in her hand a large parasol,
with a deep border of embroidery; and she was strikingly, admirably pretty.
"How pretty they are!" thought Winterbourne, straightening himself
in his seat, as if he were prepared to rise.
The young lady paused in front of his bench, near the parapet of the garden,
which overlooked the lake. The little boy had now converted his alpenstock
into a vaulting pole, by the aid of which he was springing about in the gravel
and kicking it up not a little.
"Randolph," said the young lady, "what ARE you doing?"
"I'm going up the Alps," replied Randolph. "This is the way!"
And he gave another little jump, scattering the pebbles
about Winterbourne's ears.
"That's the way they come down," said Winterbourne.
"He's an American man!" cried Randolph, in his little hard voice.
The young lady gave no heed to this announcement, but looked
straight at her brother. "Well, I guess you had better be quiet,"
she simply observed.
It seemed to Winterbourne that he had been in a manner presented. He got
up and stepped slowly toward the young girl, throwing away his cigarette.
"This little boy and I have made acquaintance," he said, with great civility.
In Geneva, as he had been perfectly aware, a young man was not at liberty
to speak to a young unmarried lady except under certain rarely occurring
conditions; but here at Vevey, what conditions could be better than these?--
a pretty American girl coming and standing in front of you in a garden.
This pretty American girl, however, on hearing Winterbourne's observation,
simply glanced at him; she then turned her head and looked over the parapet,
at the lake and the opposite mountains. He wondered whether he had gone
too far, but he decided that he must advance farther, rather than retreat.
While he was thinking of something else to say, the young lady turned
to the little boy again.
"I should like to know where you got that pole," she said.
"I bought it," responded Randolph.
"You don't mean to say you're going to take it to Italy?"
"Yes, I am going to take it to Italy," the child declared.
The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a knot
or two of ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again.
"Well, I guess you had better leave it somewhere," she said after a moment.
"Are you going to Italy?" Winterbourne inquired in a tone
of great respect.
The young lady glanced at him again. "Yes, sir," she replied.
And she said nothing more.
"Are you--a-- going over the Simplon?" Winterbourne pursued,
a little embarrassed.
"I don't know," she said. "I suppose it's some mountain.
Randolph, what mountain are we going over?"
"Going where?" the child demanded.
"To Italy," Winterbourne explained.
"I don't know," said Randolph. "I don't want to go to Italy.
I want to go to America."
"Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!" rejoined the young man.
"Can you get candy there?" Randolph loudly inquired.
"I hope not," said his sister. "I guess you have had enough candy,
and mother thinks so too."
"I haven't had any for ever so long--for a hundred weeks!"
cried the boy, still jumping about.
The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again;
and Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty
of the view. He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun
to perceive that she was not in the least embarrassed herself.
There had not been the slightest alteration in her charmingcomplexion;
she was evidently neither offended nor flattered.
If she looked another way when he spoke to her, and seemed not
particularly to hear him, this was simply her habit, her manner.
Yet, as he talked a little more and pointed out some of the objects
of interest in the view, with which she appeared quite unacquainted,
she gradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance; and then
he saw that this glance was perfectly direct and unshrinking.
It was not, however, what would have been called an immodest glance,
for the young girl's eyes were singularly honest and fresh.
They were wonderfully pretty eyes; and, indeed, Winterbourne had not
seen for a long time anything prettier than his fair countrywoman's
various features--her complexion, her nose, her ears, her teeth.
He had a great relish for feminine beauty; he was addicted to
observing and analyzing it; and as regards this young lady's face
he made several observations. It was not at all insipid, but it
by Henry James
IN TWO PARTS
PART I
At the little town of Vevey, in Switzerland, there is a
particularly comfortable hotel. There are, indeed, many hotels,
for the entertainment of tourists is the business of the place,
which, as many travelers will remember, is seated upon the edge
of a remarkably blue lake--a lake that it behooves every tourist
to visit. The shore of the lake presents an unbroken array
of establishments of this order, of every category, from the
"grand hotel" of the newest fashion, with a chalk-white front,
a hundred balconies, and a dozen flags flying from its roof,
to the little Swiss pension of an elder day, with its name
inscribed in German-looking lettering upon a pink or yellow
wall and an awkward summerhouse in the angle of the garden.
One of the hotels at Vevey, however, is famous, even classical,
being distinguished from many of its upstart neighbors
by an air both of luxury and of maturity. In this region,
in the month of June, American travelers are extremely numerous;
it may be said, indeed, that Vevey assumes at this period
some of the characteristics of an American watering place.
There are sights and sounds which evoke a vision, an echo,
of Newport and Saratoga. There is a flitting hither and thither
of "stylish" young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces,
a rattle of dance music in the morning hours, a sound of
high-pitched voices at all times. You receive an impression
of these things at the excellent inn of the "Trois Couronnes"
and are transported in fancy to the Ocean House or to Congress Hall.
But at the "Trois Couronnes," it must be added, there are other
features that are much at variance with these suggestions:
neat German waiters, who look like secretaries of legation;
Russian princesses sitting in the garden; little Polish
boys walking about held by the hand, with their governors;
a view of the sunny crest of the Dent du Midi and the picturesque
towers of the Castle of Chillon.
I hardly know whether it was the analogies or the differences that were
uppermost in the mind of a young American, who, two or three years ago,
sat in the garden of the "Trois Couronnes," looking about him,
rather idly, at some of the graceful objects I have mentioned.
It was a beautiful summer morning, and in whatever fashion the young
American looked at things, they must have seemed to him charming.
He had come from Geneva the day before by the little steamer,
to see his aunt, who was staying at the hotel--Geneva having been
for a long time his place of residence. But his aunt had a headache--
his aunt had almost always a headache--and now she was shut up in
her room, smelling camphor, so that he was at liberty to wander about.
He was some seven-and-twenty years of age; when his friends spoke
of him, they usually said that he was at Geneva "studying."
When his enemies spoke of him, they said--but, after all, he had
no enemies; he was an extremelyamiable fellow, and universally liked.
What I should say is, simply, that when certain persons spoke
of him they affirmed that the reason of his spending so much
time at Geneva was that he was extremelydevoted to a lady
who lived there--a foreign lady--a person older than himself.
Very few Americans--indeed, I think none--had ever seen this lady,
about whom there were some singular stories. But Winterbourne
had an old attachment for the little metropolis of Calvinism;
he had been put to school there as a boy, and he had afterward
gone to college there--circumstances which had led to his forming
a great many youthful friendships. Many of these he had kept,
and they were a source of great satisfaction to him.
After knocking at his aunt's door and learning that she was indisposed,
he had taken a walk about the town, and then he had come in to
his breakfast. He had now finished his breakfast; but he was drinking
a small cup of coffee, which had been served to him on a little table
in the garden by one of the waiters who looked like an attache.
At last he finished his coffee and lit a cigarette. Presently a
small boy came walking along the path--an urchin of nine or ten.
The child, who was diminutive for his years, had an aged expression
of countenance, a pale complexion, and sharp little features.
He was dressed in knickerbockers, with red stockings, which displayed
his poor little spindle-shanks; he also wore a brilliant red cravat.
He carried in his hand a long alpenstock, the sharp point of which
he thrust into everything that he approached--the flowerbeds,
the garden benches, the trains of the ladies' dresses. In front
of Winterbourne he paused, looking at him with a pair of bright,
penetrating little eyes.
"Will you give me a lump of sugar?" he asked in a sharp, hard little voice--
a voice immature and yet, somehow, not young.
Winterbourne glanced at the small table near him, on which his coffee
service rested, and saw that several morsels of sugar remained.
"Yes, you may take one," he answered; "but I don't think sugar
is good for little boys."
This little boy stepped forward and carefully selected three of
the coveted fragments, two of which he buried in the pocket of
his knickerbockers, depositing the other as promptly in another place.
He poked his alpenstock, lance-fashion, into Winterbourne's bench
and tried to crack the lump of sugar with his teeth.
"Oh, blazes; it's har-r-d!" he exclaimed, pronouncing the adjective
in a peculiar manner.
Winterbourne had immediately perceived that he might
have the honor of claiming him as a fellow countryman.
"Take care you don't hurt your teeth," he said, paternally.
"I haven't got any teeth to hurt. They have all come out.
I have only got seven teeth. My mother counted them last night,
and one came out right afterward. She said she'd slap me
if any more came out. I can't help it. It's this old Europe.
It's the climate that makes them come out. In America they
didn't come out. It's these hotels."
Winterbourne was much amused. "If you eat three lumps of sugar,
your mother will certainly slap you," he said.
"She's got to give me some candy, then," rejoined his young interlocutor.
"I can't get any candy here--any American candy. American candy's
the best candy."
"And are American little boys the best little boys?" asked Winterbourne.
"I don't know. I'm an American boy," said the child.
"I see you are one of the best!" laughed Winterbourne.
"Are you an American man?" pursued this vivacious infant.
And then, on Winterbourne's affirmative reply--"American men
are the best," he declared.
His companion thanked him for the compliment, and the child,
who had now got astride of his alpenstock, stood looking
about him, while he attacked a second lump of sugar.
Winterbourne wondered if he himself had been like this in his infancy,
for he had been brought to Europe at about this age.
"Here comes my sister!" cried the child in a moment.
"She's an American girl."
Winterbourne looked along the path and saw a beautiful
young lady advancing. "American girls are the best girls,"
he said cheerfully to his young companion.
"My sister ain't the best!" the child declared.
"She's always blowing at me."
"I imagine that is your fault, not hers," said Winterbourne.
The young lady meanwhile had drawn near. She was dressed in white muslin,
with a hundred frills and flounces, and knots of pale-colored ribbon.
She was bareheaded, but she balanced in her hand a large parasol,
with a deep border of embroidery; and she was strikingly, admirably pretty.
"How pretty they are!" thought Winterbourne, straightening himself
in his seat, as if he were prepared to rise.
The young lady paused in front of his bench, near the parapet of the garden,
which overlooked the lake. The little boy had now converted his alpenstock
into a vaulting pole, by the aid of which he was springing about in the gravel
and kicking it up not a little.
"Randolph," said the young lady, "what ARE you doing?"
"I'm going up the Alps," replied Randolph. "This is the way!"
And he gave another little jump, scattering the pebbles
about Winterbourne's ears.
"That's the way they come down," said Winterbourne.
"He's an American man!" cried Randolph, in his little hard voice.
The young lady gave no heed to this announcement, but looked
straight at her brother. "Well, I guess you had better be quiet,"
she simply observed.
It seemed to Winterbourne that he had been in a manner presented. He got
up and stepped slowly toward the young girl, throwing away his cigarette.
"This little boy and I have made acquaintance," he said, with great civility.
In Geneva, as he had been perfectly aware, a young man was not at liberty
to speak to a young unmarried lady except under certain rarely occurring
conditions; but here at Vevey, what conditions could be better than these?--
a pretty American girl coming and standing in front of you in a garden.
This pretty American girl, however, on hearing Winterbourne's observation,
simply glanced at him; she then turned her head and looked over the parapet,
at the lake and the opposite mountains. He wondered whether he had gone
too far, but he decided that he must advance farther, rather than retreat.
While he was thinking of something else to say, the young lady turned
to the little boy again.
"I should like to know where you got that pole," she said.
"I bought it," responded Randolph.
"You don't mean to say you're going to take it to Italy?"
"Yes, I am going to take it to Italy," the child declared.
The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a knot
or two of ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again.
"Well, I guess you had better leave it somewhere," she said after a moment.
"Are you going to Italy?" Winterbourne inquired in a tone
of great respect.
The young lady glanced at him again. "Yes, sir," she replied.
And she said nothing more.
"Are you--a-- going over the Simplon?" Winterbourne pursued,
a little embarrassed.
"I don't know," she said. "I suppose it's some mountain.
Randolph, what mountain are we going over?"
"Going where?" the child demanded.
"To Italy," Winterbourne explained.
"I don't know," said Randolph. "I don't want to go to Italy.
I want to go to America."
"Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!" rejoined the young man.
"Can you get candy there?" Randolph loudly inquired.
"I hope not," said his sister. "I guess you have had enough candy,
and mother thinks so too."
"I haven't had any for ever so long--for a hundred weeks!"
cried the boy, still jumping about.
The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again;
and Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty
of the view. He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun
to perceive that she was not in the least embarrassed herself.
There had not been the slightest alteration in her charmingcomplexion;
she was evidently neither offended nor flattered.
If she looked another way when he spoke to her, and seemed not
particularly to hear him, this was simply her habit, her manner.
Yet, as he talked a little more and pointed out some of the objects
of interest in the view, with which she appeared quite unacquainted,
she gradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance; and then
he saw that this glance was perfectly direct and unshrinking.
It was not, however, what would have been called an immodest glance,
for the young girl's eyes were singularly honest and fresh.
They were wonderfully pretty eyes; and, indeed, Winterbourne had not
seen for a long time anything prettier than his fair countrywoman's
various features--her complexion, her nose, her ears, her teeth.
He had a great relish for feminine beauty; he was addicted to
observing and analyzing it; and as regards this young lady's face
he made several observations. It was not at all insipid, but it
- entertainment [,entə´teinmənt]
n.招(款)待；联欢会 (初中英语单词) - luxury [´lʌkʃəri] n.奢侈(品)；享受 (初中英语单词)
- extremely [ik´stri:mli] ad.极端地；非常地 (初中英语单词)
- vision [´viʒən] n.视觉；想象力；幻影 (初中英语单词)
- hither [´hiðə] ad.到此处 (初中英语单词)
- rattle [´rætl] n.嘎吱声 (初中英语单词)
- graceful [´greisfəl] a.优美的，流畅的 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- residence [´rezidəns] n.居住(期间)；住宅 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- youthful [´ju:θfəl] a.年轻的；青年的 (初中英语单词)
- satisfaction [,sætis´fækʃən] n.满意；满足 (初中英语单词)
- learning [´lə:niŋ] n.学习；学问；知识 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- countenance [´kauntinəns] n.面部表情；脸色；面容 (初中英语单词)
- brilliant [´briliənt] a.灿烂的；杰出的 (初中英语单词)
- thrust [θrʌst] v.&n.猛推；冲；刺；挤进 (初中英语单词)
- promptly [´prɔmptli] ad.敏捷地；即时地 (初中英语单词)
- peculiar [pi´kju:liə] a.特有的；奇异的 (初中英语单词)
- climate [´klaimit] n.气候；特殊气候地带 (初中英语单词)
- companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- meanwhile [´mi:n´wail] n.&ad.其间；同时 (初中英语单词)
- rarely [´reəli] ad.难得；非凡地 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- ribbon [´ribən] n.缎带；带子；色带 (初中英语单词)
- prospect [´prɔspekt, prəs´pekt] n.景色；境界 v.勘察 (初中英语单词)
- observation [,ɔbzə´veiʃən] n.观测；注意；意义 (初中英语单词)
- perceive [pə´si:v] vt.察觉；看出；领悟 (初中英语单词)
- charming [´tʃɑ:miŋ] a.可爱的；极好的 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- pointed [´pɔintid] a.尖(锐)的；中肯的 (初中英语单词)
- switzerland [´switsələnd] n.瑞士 (高中英语单词)
- pension [´penʃən] n.津贴 vt.给予...抚恤 (高中英语单词)
- awkward [´ɔ:kwəd] a.笨拙的；为难的 (高中英语单词)
- distinguished [di´stiŋgwiʃt] a.卓越的，著名的 (高中英语单词)
- geneva [dʒi´ni:və] n.日内瓦 (高中英语单词)
- singular [´siŋgjulə] a.单一的；非凡的 (高中英语单词)
- complexion [kəm´plekʃən] n.肤色；情况；局面 (高中英语单词)
- compliment [´kɔmplimənt] n.敬意 vt.赞美；祝贺 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- announcement [ə´naunsmənt] n.通告；宣布；言谈 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- relish [´reliʃ] n.滋味；风味 v.品尝 (高中英语单词)
- remarkably [ri´mɑ:kəbli] ad.非凡地；显著地 (英语四级单词)
- unbroken [ʌn´brəukən] a.未破的；不间断的 (英语四级单词)
- maturity [mə´tjuəriti] n.成熟；完备 (英语四级单词)
- muslin [´mʌzlin] n.平纹细布，薄纱织物 (英语四级单词)
- amiable [´eimiəbəl] a.亲切的，温和的 (英语四级单词)
- universally [,ju:ni´və:səli] ad.普遍地 (英语四级单词)
- devoted [di´vəutid] a.献身...的，忠实的 (英语四级单词)
- attachment [ə´tætʃmənt] n.附着；附件；爱慕 (英语四级单词)
- metropolis [mi´trɔpəlis] n.首都；大城市 (英语四级单词)
- embroidery [im´brɔidəri] n.刺绣(品) (英语四级单词)
- unmarried [,ʌn´mærid] a.未婚的，独身的 (英语四级单词)
- alteration [,ɔ:ltə´reiʃən] n.改变，变更 (英语四级单词)
- wonderfully [´wʌndəfuli] ad.令人惊讶地；奇妙地 (英语四级单词)
- feminine [´feminin] a.女性的 (英语四级单词)
- category [´kætigəri] n.种类；部属；范畴 (英语六级单词)
- urchin [´ə:tʃin] n.顽童 (英语六级单词)
- diminutive [di´minjutiv] a.非常小的；小型的 (英语六级单词)
- admirably [´ædmərəbli] ad.令人钦佩地；极妙地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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