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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
Chapter V
“I’ve come to you, Sofya Semyonovna,” he began. “Excuse me . . . I thought I should find you,” he said, addressing Raskolnikov suddenly, “that is, I didn’t mean anything . . . of that sort . . . But I just thought . . . Katerina Ivanovna has gone out of her mind,” he blurted2 out suddenly, turning from Raskolnikov to Sonia.
Sonia screamed.
“At least it seems so. But . . . we don’t know what to do, you see! She came back — she seems to have been turned out somewhere, perhaps beaten. . . . So it seems at least, . . . She had run to your father’s former chief, she didn’t find him at home: he was dining at some other general’s. . . . Only fancy, she rushed off there, to the other general’s, and, imagine, she was so persistent3 that she managed to get the chief to see her, had him fetched out from dinner, it seems. You can imagine what happened. She was turned out, of course; but, according to her own story, she abused him and threw something at him. One may well believe it. . . . How it is she wasn’t taken up, I can’t understand! Now she is telling everyone, including Amalia Ivanovna; but it’s difficult to understand her, she is screaming and flinging herself about. . . . Oh yes, she shouts that since everyone has abandoned her, she will take the children and go into the street with a barrel-organ, and the children will sing and dance, and she too, and collect money, and will go every day under the general’s window . . . ‘to let everyone see well-born children, whose father was an official, begging in the street.’ She keeps beating the children and they are all crying. She is teaching Lida to sing ‘My Village,’ the boy to dance, Polenka the same. She is tearing up all the clothes, and making them little caps like actors; she means to carry a tin basin and make it tinkle4, instead of music. . . . She won’t listen to anything. . . . Imagine the state of things! It’s beyond anything!”
Lebeziatnikov would have gone on, but Sonia, who had heard him almost breathless, snatched up her cloak and hat, and ran out of the room, putting on her things as she went. Raskolnikov followed her and Lebeziatnikov came after him.
“She has certainly gone mad!” he said to Raskolnikov, as they went out into the street. “I didn’t want to frighten Sofya Semyonovna, so I said ‘it seemed like it,’ but there isn’t a doubt of it. They say that in consumption the tubercles sometimes occur in the brain; it’s a pity I know nothing of medicine. I did try to persuade her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“Did you talk to her about the tubercles?”
“Not precisely5 of the tubercles. Besides, she wouldn’t have understood! But what I say is, that if you convince a person logically that he has nothing to cry about, he’ll stop crying. That’s clear. Is it your conviction that he won’t?”
“Life would be too easy if it were so,” answered Raskolnikov.
“Excuse me, excuse me; of course it would be rather difficult for Katerina Ivanovna to understand, but do you know that in Paris they have been conducting serious experiments as to the possibility of curing the insane, simply by logical argument? One professor there, a scientific man of standing6, lately dead, believed in the possibility of such treatment. His idea was that there’s nothing really wrong with the physical organism of the insane, and that insanity7 is, so to say, a logical mistake, an error of judgment8, an incorrect view of things. He gradually showed the madman his error and, would you believe it, they say he was successful? But as he made use of douches too, how far success was due to that treatment remains9 uncertain. . . . So it seems at least.”
Raskolnikov had long ceased to listen. Reaching the house where he lived, he nodded to Lebeziatnikov and went in at the gate. Lebeziatnikov woke up with a start, looked about him and hurried on.
Raskolnikov went into his little room and stood still in the middle of it. Why had he come back here? He looked at the yellow and tattered10 paper, at the dust, at his sofa. . . . From the yard came a loud continuous knocking; someone seemed to be hammering . . . He went to the window, rose on tiptoe and looked out into the yard for a long time with an air of absorbed attention. But the yard was empty and he could not see who was hammering. In the house on the left he saw some open windows; on the window-sills were pots of sickly-looking geraniums. Linen11 was hung out of the windows . . . He knew it all by heart. He turned away and sat down on the sofa.
Never, never had he felt himself so fearfully alone!
Yes, he felt once more that he would perhaps come to hate Sonia, now that he had made her more miserable13.
“Why had he gone to her to beg for her tears? What need had he to poison her life? Oh, the meanness of it!”
“I will remain alone,” he said resolutely14, “and she shall not come to the prison!”
Five minutes later he raised his head with a strange smile. That was a strange thought.
“Perhaps it really would be better in Siberia,” he thought suddenly.
He could not have said how long he sat there with vague thoughts surging through his mind. All at once the door opened and Dounia came in. At first she stood still and looked at him from the doorway15, just as he had done at Sonia; then she came in and sat down in the same place as yesterday, on the chair facing him. He looked silently and almost vacantly at her.
“Don’t be angry, brother; I’ve only come for one minute,” said Dounia.
Her face looked thoughtful but not stern. Her eyes were bright and soft. He saw that she too had come to him with love.
“Brother, now I know all, all. Dmitri Prokofitch has explained and told me everything. They are worrying and persecuting16 you through a stupid and contemptible17 suspicion. . . . Dmitri Prokofitch told me that there is no danger, and that you are wrong in looking upon it with such horror. I don’t think so, and I fully12 understand how indignant you must be, and that that indignation may have a permanent effect on you. That’s what I am afraid of. As for your cutting yourself off from us, I don’t judge you, I don’t venture to judge you, and forgive me for having blamed you for it. I feel that I too, if I had so great a trouble, should keep away from everyone. I shall tell mother nothing of this, but I shall talk about you continually and shall tell her from you that you will come very soon. Don’t worry about her; I will set her mind at rest; but don’t you try her too much — come once at least; remember that she is your mother. And now I have come simply to say” (Dounia began to get up) “that if you should need me or should need . . . all my life or anything . . . call me, and I’ll come. Good-bye!”
“Dounia!” Raskolnikov stopped her and went towards her. “That Razumihin, Dmitri Prokofitch, is a very good fellow.”
Dounia flushed slightly.
“Well?” she asked, waiting a moment.
“He is competent, hardworking, honest and capable of real love. . . . Good-bye, Dounia.”
“But what does it mean, brother? Are we really parting for ever that you . . . give me such a parting message?”
“Never mind. . . . Good-bye.”
He turned away, and walked to the window. She stood a moment, looked at him uneasily, and went out troubled.
No, he was not cold to her. There was an instant (the very last one) when he had longed to take her in his arms and say good-bye to her, and even to tell her, but he had not dared even to touch her hand.
“Afterwards she may shudder21 when she remembers that I embraced her, and will feel that I stole her kiss.”
“And would she stand that test?” he went on a few minutes later to himself. “No, she wouldn’t; girls like that can’t stand things! They never do.”
And he thought of Sonia.
There was a breath of fresh air from the window. The daylight was fading. He took up his cap and went out.
He could not, of course, and would not consider how ill he was. But all this continual anxiety and agony of mind could not but affect him. And if he were not lying in high fever it was perhaps just because this continual inner strain helped to keep him on his legs and in possession of his faculties22. But this artificial excitement could not last long.
He wandered aimlessly. The sun was setting. A special form of misery23 had begun to oppress him of late. There was nothing poignant24, nothing acute about it; but there was a feeling of permanence, of eternity25 about it; it brought a foretaste of hopeless years of this cold leaden misery, a foretaste of an eternity “on a square yard of space.” Towards evening this sensation usually began to weigh on him more heavily.
“With this idiotic26, purely27 physical weakness, depending on the sunset or something, one can’t help doing something stupid! You’ll go to Dounia, as well as to Sonia,” he muttered bitterly.
He heard his name called. He looked round. Lebeziatnikov rushed up to him.
“Only fancy, I’ve been to your room looking for you. Only fancy, she’s carried out her plan, and taken away the children. Sofya Semyonovna and I have had a job to find them. She is rapping on a frying-pan and making the children dance. The children are crying. They keep stopping at the cross-roads and in front of shops; there’s a crowd of fools running after them. Come along!”
“And Sonia?” Raskolnikov asked anxiously, hurrying after Lebeziatnikov.
“Simply frantic28. That is, it’s not Sofya Semyonovna’s frantic, but Katerina Ivanovna, though Sofya Semyonova’s frantic too. But Katerina Ivanovna is absolutely frantic. I tell you she is quite mad. They’ll be taken to the police. You can fancy what an effect that will have. . . . They are on the canal bank, near the bridge now, not far from Sofya Semyonovna’s, quite close.”
On the canal bank near the bridge and not two houses away from the one where Sonia lodged30, there was a crowd of people, consisting principally of gutter31 children. The hoarse32 broken voice of Katerina Ivanovna could be heard from the bridge, and it certainly was a strange spectacle likely to attract a street crowd. Katerina Ivanovna in her old dress with the green shawl, wearing a torn straw hat, crushed in a hideous33 way on one side, was really frantic. She was exhausted34 and breathless. Her wasted consumptive face looked more suffering than ever, and indeed out of doors in the sunshine a consumptive always looks worse than at home. But her excitement did not flag, and every moment her irritation35 grew more intense. She rushed at the children, shouted at them, coaxed36 them, told them before the crowd how to dance and what to sing, began explaining to them why it was necessary, and driven to desperation by their not understanding, beat them. . . . Then she would make a rush at the crowd; if she noticed any decently dressed person stopping to look, she immediately appealed to him to see what these children “from a genteel, one may say aristocratic, house” had been brought to. If she heard laughter or jeering37 in the crowd, she would rush at once at the scoffers and begin squabbling with them. Some people laughed, others shook their heads, but everyone felt curious at the sight of the madwoman with the frightened children. The frying-pan of which Lebeziatnikov had spoken was not there, at least Raskolnikov did not see it. But instead of rapping on the pan, Katerina Ivanovna began clapping her wasted hands, when she made Lida and Kolya dance and Polenka sing. She too joined in the singing, but broke down at the second note with a fearful cough, which made her curse in despair and even shed tears. What made her most furious was the weeping and terror of Kolya and Lida. Some effort had been made to dress the children up as street singers are dressed. The boy had on a turban made of something red and white to look like a Turk. There had been no costume for Lida; she simply had a red knitted cap, or rather a night cap that had belonged to Marmeladov, decorated with a broken piece of white ostrich38 feather, which had been Katerina Ivanovna’s grandmother’s and had been preserved as a family possession. Polenka was in her everyday dress; she looked in timid perplexity at her mother, and kept at her side, hiding her tears. She dimly realised her mother’s condition, and looked uneasily about her. She was terribly frightened of the street and the crowd. Sonia followed Katerina Ivanovna, weeping and beseeching39 her to return home, but Katerina Ivanovna was not to be persuaded.
“Leave off, Sonia, leave off,” she shouted, speaking fast, panting and coughing. “You don’t know what you ask; you are like a child! I’ve told you before that I am not coming back to that drunken German. Let everyone, let all Petersburg see the children begging in the streets, though their father was an honourable40 man who served all his life in truth and fidelity41, and one may say died in the service.” (Katerina Ivanovna had by now invented this fantastic story and thoroughly42 believed it.) “Let that wretch43 of a general see it! And you are silly, Sonia: what have we to eat? Tell me that. We have worried you enough, I won’t go on so! Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, is that you?” she cried, seeing Raskolnikov and rushing up to him. “Explain to this silly girl, please, that nothing better could be done! Even organ-grinders earn their living, and everyone will see at once that we are different, that we are an honourable and bereaved44 family reduced to beggary. And that general will lose his post, you’ll see! We shall perform under his windows every day, and if the Tsar drives by, I’ll fall on my knees, put the children before me, show them to him, and say ‘Defend us father.’ He is the father of the fatherless, he is merciful, he’ll protect us, you’ll see, and that wretch of a general. . . . Lida, tenez vous droite! Kolya, you’ll dance again. Why are you whimpering? Whimpering again! What are you afraid of, stupid? Goodness, what am I to do with them, Rodion Romanovitch? If you only knew how stupid they are! What’s one to do with such children?”
And she, almost crying herself — which did not stop her uninterrupted, rapid flow of talk — pointed45 to the crying children. Raskolnikov tried to persuade her to go home, and even said, hoping to work on her vanity, that it was unseemly for her to be wandering about the streets like an organ-grinder, as she was intending to become the principal of a boarding-school.
“A boarding-school, ha-ha-ha! A castle in the air,” cried Katerina Ivanovna, her laugh ending in a cough. “No, Rodion Romanovitch, that dream is over! All have forsaken46 us! . . . And that general. . . . You know, Rodion Romanovitch, I threw an inkpot at him — it happened to be standing in the waiting-room by the paper where you sign your name. I wrote my name, threw it at him and ran away. Oh, the scoundrels, the scoundrels! But enough of them, now I’ll provide for the children myself, I won’t bow down to anybody! She has had to bear enough for us!” she pointed to Sonia. “Polenka, how much have you got? Show me! What, only two farthings! Oh, the mean wretches47! They give us nothing, only run after us, putting their tongues out. There, what is that blockhead laughing at?” (She pointed to a man in the crowd.) “It’s all because Kolya here is so stupid; I have such a bother with him. What do you want, Polenka? Tell me in French, parlez-moi français. Why, I’ve taught you, you know some phrases. Else how are you to show that you are of good family, well brought-up children, and not at all like other organ-grinders? We aren’t going to have a Punch and Judy show in the street, but to sing a genteel song. . . . Ah, yes, . . . What are we to sing? You keep putting me out, but we . . . you see, we are standing here, Rodion Romanovitch, to find something to sing and get money, something Kolya can dance to. . . . For, as you can fancy, our performance is all impromptu48. . . . We must talk it over and rehearse it all thoroughly, and then we shall go to Nevsky, where there are far more people of good society, and we shall be noticed at once. Lida knows ‘My Village’ only, nothing but ‘My Village,’ and everyone sings that. We must sing something far more genteel. . . . Well, have you thought of anything, Polenka? If only you’d help your mother! My memory’s quite gone, or I should have thought of something. We really can’t sing ‘An Hussar.’ Ah, let us sing in French, ‘Cinq sous,’ I have taught it you, I have taught it you. And as it is in French, people will see at once that you are children of good family, and that will be much more touching49. . . . You might sing ‘Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre,’ for that’s quite a child’s song and is sung as a lullaby in all the aristocratic houses.
“Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre
Ne sait quand reviendra . . .”
she began singing. “But no, better sing ‘Cinq sous.’ Now, Kolya, your hands on your hips50, make haste, and you, Lida, keep turning the other way, and Polenka and I will sing and clap our hands!
“Cinq sous, cinq sous
Pour monter notre menage.”
(Cough-cough-cough!) “Set your dress straight, Polenka, it’s slipped down on your shoulders,” she observed, panting from coughing. “Now it’s particularly necessary to behave nicely and genteelly, that all may see that you are well-born children. I said at the time that the bodice should be cut longer, and made of two widths. It was your fault, Sonia, with your advice to make it shorter, and now you see the child is quite deformed51 by it. . . . Why, you’re all crying again! What’s the matter, stupids? Come, Kolya, begin. Make haste, make haste! Oh, what an unbearable52 child!
“Cinq sous, cinq sous.
“A policeman again! What do you want?”
A policeman was indeed forcing his way through the crowd. But at that moment a gentleman in civilian53 uniform and an overcoat — a solid-looking official of about fifty with a decoration on his neck (which delighted Katerina Ivanovna and had its effect on the policeman)— approached and without a word handed her a green three-rouble note. His face wore a look of genuine sympathy. Katerina Ivanovna took it and gave him a polite, even ceremonious, bow.
“I thank you, honoured sir,” she began loftily. “The causes that have induced us (take the money, Polenka: you see there are generous and honourable people who are ready to help a poor gentlewoman in distress). You see, honoured sir, these orphans55 of good family — I might even say of aristocratic connections — and that wretch of a general sat eating grouse56 . . . and stamped at my disturbing him. ‘Your excellency,’ I said, ‘protect the orphans, for you knew my late husband, Semyon Zaharovitch, and on the very day of his death the basest of scoundrels slandered57 his only daughter.’ . . . That policeman again! Protect me,” she cried to the official. “Why is that policeman edging up to me? We have only just run away from one of them. What do you want, fool?”
“It’s forbidden in the streets. You mustn’t make a disturbance58.”
“It’s you’re making a disturbance. It’s just the same as if I were grinding an organ. What business is it of yours?”
“You have to get a licence for an organ, and you haven’t got one, and in that way you collect a crowd. Where do you lodge29?”
“What, a license59?” wailed60 Katerina Ivanovna. “I buried my husband to-day. What need of a license?”
“Calm yourself, madam, calm yourself,” began the official. “Come along; I will escort you. . . . This is no place for you in the crowd. You are ill.”
“Honoured sir, honoured sir, you don’t know,” screamed Katerina Ivanovna. “We are going to the Nevsky. . . . Sonia, Sonia! Where is she? She is crying too! What’s the matter with you all? Kolya, Lida, where are you going?” she cried suddenly in alarm. “Oh, silly children! Kolya, Lida, where are they off to? . . .”
Kolya and Lida, scared out of their wits by the crowd, and their mother’s mad pranks61, suddenly seized each other by the hand, and ran off at the sight of the policeman who wanted to take them away somewhere. Weeping and wailing62, poor Katerina Ivanovna ran after them. She was a piteous and unseemly spectacle, as she ran, weeping and panting for breath. Sonia and Polenka rushed after them.
“Bring them back, bring them back, Sonia! Oh stupid, ungrateful children! . . . Polenka! catch them. . . . It’s for your sakes I . . .”
She stumbled as she ran and fell down.
“She’s cut herself, she’s bleeding! Oh, dear!” cried Sonia, bending over her.
All ran up and crowded around. Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov were the first at her side, the official too hastened up, and behind him the policeman who muttered, “Bother!” with a gesture of impatience63, feeling that the job was going to be a troublesome one.
“Pass on! Pass on!” he said to the crowd that pressed forward.
“She’s dying,” someone shouted.
“She’s gone out of her mind,” said another.
“Lord have mercy upon us,” said a woman, crossing herself. “Have they caught the little girl and the boy? They’re being brought back, the elder one’s got them. . . . Ah, the naughty imps64!”
When they examined Katerina Ivanovna carefully, they saw that she had not cut herself against a stone, as Sonia thought, but that the blood that stained the pavement red was from her chest.
“I’ve seen that before,” muttered the official to Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov; “that’s consumption; the blood flows and chokes the patient. I saw the same thing with a relative of my own not long ago . . . nearly a pint65 of blood, all in a minute. . . . What’s to be done though? She is dying.”
“This way, this way, to my room!” Sonia implored66. “I live here! . . . See, that house, the second from here. . . . Come to me, make haste,” she turned from one to the other. “Send for the doctor! Oh, dear!”
Thanks to the official’s efforts, this plan was adopted, the policeman even helping67 to carry Katerina Ivanovna. She was carried to Sonia’s room, almost unconscious, and laid on the bed. The blood was still flowing, but she seemed to be coming to herself. Raskolnikov, Lebeziatnikov, and the official accompanied Sonia into the room and were followed by the policeman, who first drove back the crowd which followed to the very door. Polenka came in holding Kolya and Lida, who were trembling and weeping. Several persons came in too from the Kapernaumovs’ room; the landlord, a lame18 one-eyed man of strange appearance with whiskers and hair that stood up like a brush, his wife, a woman with an everlastingly68 scared expression, and several open-mouthed children with wonder-struck faces. Among these, Svidrigaïlov suddenly made his appearance. Raskolnikov looked at him with surprise, not understanding where he had come from and not having noticed him in the crowd. A doctor and priest wore spoken of. The official whispered to Raskolnikov that he thought it was too late now for the doctor, but he ordered him to be sent for. Kapernaumov ran himself.
Meanwhile Katerina Ivanovna had regained69 her breath. The bleeding ceased for a time. She looked with sick but intent and penetrating70 eyes at Sonia, who stood pale and trembling, wiping the sweat from her brow with a handkerchief. At last she asked to be raised. They sat her up on the bed, supporting her on both sides.
“Where are the children?” she said in a faint voice. “You’ve brought them, Polenka? Oh the sillies! Why did you run away. . . . Och!”
“So that’s how you live, Sonia! Never once have I been in your room.”
She looked at her with a face of suffering.
“We have been your ruin, Sonia. Polenka, Lida, Kolya, come here! Well, here they are, Sonia, take them all! I hand them over to you, I’ve had enough! The ball is over.” (Cough!) “Lay me down, let me die in peace.”
They laid her back on the pillow.
“What, the priest? I don’t want him. You haven’t got a rouble to spare. I have no sins. God must forgive me without that. He knows how I have suffered. . . . And if He won’t forgive me, I don’t care!”
She sank more and more into uneasy delirium72. At times she shuddered73, turned her eyes from side to side, recognised everyone for a minute, but at once sank into delirium again. Her breathing was hoarse and difficult, there was a sort of rattle74 in her throat.
“I said to him, your excellency,” she ejaculated, gasping75 after each word. “That Amalia Ludwigovna, ah! Lida, Kolya, hands on your hips, make haste! Glissez, glissez! pas de basque! Tap with your heels, be a graceful76 child!
“Du hast Diamanten und Perlen
“What next? That’s the thing to sing.
“Du hast die schonsten Augen
Madchen, was willst du mehr?
“What an idea! Was willst du mehr? What things the fool invents! Ah, yes!
“In the heat of midday in the vale of Dagestan.
“Ah, how I loved it! I loved that song to distraction77, Polenka! Your father, you know, used to sing it when we were engaged. . . . Oh those days! Oh that’s the thing for us to sing! How does it go? I’ve forgotten. Remind me! How was it?”
She was violently excited and tried to sit up. At last, in a horribly hoarse, broken voice, she began, shrieking78 and gasping at every word, with a look of growing terror.
“In the heat of midday! . . . in the vale! . . . of Dagestan! . . .
With lead in my breast! . . .”
“Your excellency!” she wailed suddenly with a heart-rending scream and a flood of tears, “protect the orphans! You have been their father’s guest . . . one may say aristocratic . . . .” She started, regaining79 consciousness, and gazed at all with a sort of terror, but at once recognised Sonia.
“Sonia, Sonia!” she articulated softly and caressingly80, as though surprised to find her there. “Sonia darling, are you here, too?”
They lifted her up again.
“Enough! It’s over! Farewell, poor thing! I am done for! I am broken!” she cried with vindictive81 despair, and her head fell heavily back on the pillow.
She sank into unconsciousness again, but this time it did not last long. Her pale, yellow, wasted face dropped back, her mouth fell open, her leg moved convulsively, she gave a deep, deep sigh and died.
Sonia fell upon her, flung her arms about her, and remained motionless with her head pressed to the dead woman’s wasted bosom82. Polenka threw herself at her mother’s feet, kissing them and weeping violently. Though Kolya and Lida did not understand what had happened, they had a feeling that it was something terrible; they put their hands on each other’s little shoulders, stared straight at one another and both at once opened their mouths and began screaming. They were both still in their fancy dress; one in a turban, the other in the cap with the ostrich feather.
And how did “the certificate of merit” come to be on the bed beside Katerina Ivanovna? It lay there by the pillow; Raskolnikov saw it.
He walked away to the window. Lebeziatnikov skipped up to him.
“She is dead,” he said.
“Rodion Romanovitch, I must have two words with you,” said Svidrigaïlov, coming up to them.
Lebeziatnikov at once made room for him and delicately withdrew. Svidrigaïlov drew Raskolnikov further away.
“I will undertake all the arrangements, the funeral and that. You know it’s a question of money and, as I told you, I have plenty to spare. I will put those two little ones and Polenka into some good orphan54 asylum83, and I will settle fifteen hundred roubles to be paid to each on coming of age, so that Sofya Semyonovna need have no anxiety about them. And I will pull her out of the mud too, for she is a good girl, isn’t she? So tell Avdotya Romanovna that that is how I am spending her ten thousand.”
“Ah! you sceptical person!” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “I told you I had no need of that money. Won’t you admit that it’s simply done from humanity? She wasn’t ‘a louse,’ you know” (he pointed to the corner where the dead woman lay), “was she, like some old pawnbroker86 woman? Come, you’ll agree, is Luzhin to go on living, and doing wicked things or is she to die? And if I didn’t help them, Polenka would go the same way.”
He said this with an air of a sort of gay winking87 slyness, keeping his eyes fixed88 on Raskolnikov, who turned white and cold, hearing his own phrases, spoken to Sonia. He quickly stepped back and looked wildly at Svidrigaïlov.
“How do you know?” he whispered, hardly able to breathe.
“Why, I lodge here at Madame Resslich’s, the other side of the wall. Here is Kapernaumov, and there lives Madame Resslich, an old and devoted89 friend of mine. I am a neighbour.”
“You?”
“Yes,” continued Svidrigaïlov, shaking with laughter. “I assure you on my honour, dear Rodion Romanovitch, that you have interested me enormously. I told you we should become friends, I foretold90 it. Well, here we have. And you will see what an accommodating person I am. You’ll see that you can get on with me!”
点击收听单词发音
1 perturbed | |
adj.烦燥不安的v.使(某人)烦恼,不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2 blurted | |
v.突然说出,脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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4 tinkle | |
vi.叮当作响;n.叮当声 | |
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5 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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6 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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7 insanity | |
n.疯狂,精神错乱;极端的愚蠢,荒唐 | |
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8 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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9 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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10 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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11 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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12 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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13 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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14 resolutely | |
adj.坚决地,果断地 | |
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15 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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16 persecuting | |
(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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17 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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18 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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19 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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20 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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21 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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22 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
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23 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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24 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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25 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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26 idiotic | |
adj.白痴的 | |
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27 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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28 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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29 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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30 lodged | |
v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
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31 gutter | |
n.沟,街沟,水槽,檐槽,贫民窟 | |
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32 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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33 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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34 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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35 irritation | |
n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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36 coaxed | |
v.哄,用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 );巧言骗取;哄劝,劝诱 | |
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37 jeering | |
adj.嘲弄的,揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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38 ostrich | |
n.鸵鸟 | |
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39 beseeching | |
adj.恳求似的v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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40 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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41 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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42 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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43 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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44 bereaved | |
adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去(希望、生命等)( bereave的过去式和过去分词);(尤指死亡)使丧失(亲人、朋友等);使孤寂;抢走(财物) | |
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45 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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46 Forsaken | |
adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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47 wretches | |
n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 );可怜的人;恶棍;坏蛋 | |
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48 impromptu | |
adj.即席的,即兴的;adv.即兴的(地),无准备的(地) | |
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49 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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50 hips | |
abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
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51 deformed | |
adj.畸形的;变形的;丑的,破相了的 | |
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52 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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53 civilian | |
adj.平民的,民用的,民众的 | |
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54 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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55 orphans | |
孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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56 grouse | |
n.松鸡;v.牢骚,诉苦 | |
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57 slandered | |
造谣中伤( slander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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59 license | |
n.执照,许可证,特许;v.许可,特许 | |
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60 wailed | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61 pranks | |
n.玩笑,恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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62 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
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63 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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64 imps | |
n.(故事中的)小恶魔( imp的名词复数 );小魔鬼;小淘气;顽童 | |
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65 pint | |
n.品脱 | |
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66 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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68 everlastingly | |
永久地,持久地 | |
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69 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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70 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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71 parched | |
adj.焦干的;极渴的;v.(使)焦干 | |
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72 delirium | |
n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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73 shuddered | |
v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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74 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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75 gasping | |
adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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76 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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77 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
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78 shrieking | |
v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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79 regaining | |
复得( regain的现在分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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80 caressingly | |
爱抚地,亲切地 | |
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81 vindictive | |
adj.有报仇心的,怀恨的,惩罚的 | |
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82 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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83 asylum | |
n.避难所,庇护所,避难 | |
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84 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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85 benevolence | |
n.慈悲,捐助 | |
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86 pawnbroker | |
n.典当商,当铺老板 | |
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87 winking | |
n.瞬眼,目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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88 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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89 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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90 foretold | |
v.预言,预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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