Burmese Days 缅甸岁月 Chapter 6
时间：2015-10-13 04:43:54
（单词翻译:单击）
The morning sunlight slanted1 up the maidan and struck, yellow as goldleaf, against the white face of the bungalow2. Four black- purple crows swooped3 down and perched on the veranda4 rail, waiting their chance to dart5 in and steal the bread and butter that Ko S'la had set down beside Flory's bed. Flory crawled through the mosquito net, shouted to Ko S'la to bring him some gin, and then went into the bathroom and sat for a while in a zinc6 tub of water that was supposed to be cold. Feeling better after the gin, he shaved himself. As a rule he put off shaving until the evening, for his beard was black and grew quickly.
While Flory was sitting morosely7 in his bath, Mr Macgregor, in shorts and singlet on the bamboo mat laid for the purpose in his bedroom, was struggling with Numbers 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9 of Nordenflycht's 'Physical Jerks for the Sedentary'. Mr Macgregor never, or hardly ever, missed his morning exercises. Number 8 (flat on the back, raise legs to the perpendicular8 without bending knees) was downright painful for a man of forty-three; Number 9 (flat on the back, rise to a sitting posture9 and touch toes with tips of fingers) was even worse. No matter, one must keep fit! As Mr Macgregor lunged painfully in the direction of his toes, a brick-red shade flowed upwards10 from his neck and congested his face with a threat of apoplexy. The sweat gleamed on his large, tallowy breasts. Stick it out, stick it out! At all costs one must keep fit. Mohammed Ali, the bearer, with Mr Macgregor's clean clothes across his arm, watched through the half-open door. His narrow, yellow, Arabian face expressed neither comprehension nor curiosity. He had watched these contortions--a sacrifice, he dimly imagined, to some mysterious and exacting11 god--every morning for five years.
At the same time, too, Westfield, who had gone out early, was leaning against the notched12 and ink-stained table of the police station, while the fat Sub-inspector interrogated13 a suspect whom two constables15 were guarding. The suspect was a man of forty, with a grey, timorous16 face, dressed only in a ragged17 longyi kilted to the knee, beneath which his lank18, curved shins were speckled with tick-bites.
'Who is this fellow?' said Westfield.
'Thief, sir. We catch him in possession of this ring with two emeralds very-dear. No explanation. How could he--poor coolie-- own a emerald ring? He have stole it.'
He turned ferociously19 upon the suspect, advanced his face tomcat- fashion till it was almost touching20 the other's, and roared in an enormous voice:
'You stole the ring!'
'No.'
'No.'
'You have been in prison!'
'No.'
The suspect turned his grey face in agony towards Westfield, who looked away. The two constables seized him, twisted him round and bent23 him over; the Sub-inspector tore off his longyi, exposing his buttocks.
'Look at this, sir!' He pointed24 to some scars. 'He have been flogged with bamboos. He is an old offender. THEREFORE he stole the ring!'
'All right, put him in the clink,' said Westfield moodily25, as he lounged away from the table with his hands in his pockets. At the bottom of his heart he loathed26 running in these poor devils of common thieves. Dacoits, rebels--yes; but not these poor cringing27 rats! 'How many have you got in the clink now, Maung Ba?' he said.
'Three, sir.'
The lock-up was upstairs, a cage surrounded by six-inch wooden bars, guarded by a constable14 armed with a carbine. It was very dark, stifling28 hot, and quite unfurnished, except for an earth latrine that stank29 to heaven. Two prisoners were squatting30 at the bars, keeping their distance from a third, an Indian coolie, who was covered from head to foot with ringworm like a coat of mail. A stout31 Burmese woman, wife of a constable, was kneeling outside the cage ladling rice and watery32 dahl into tin pannikins.
'Is the food good?' said Westfield.
'It is good, most holy one,' chorused the prisoners.
The Government provided for the prisoners' food at the rate of two annas and a half per meal per man, out of which the constable's wife looked to make a profit of one anna.
Flory went outside and loitered down the compound, poking33 weeds into the ground with his stick. At that hour there were beautiful faint colours in everything--tender green of leaves, pinkish brown of earth and tree-trunks--like aquarelle washes that would vanish in the later glare. Down on the maidan flights of small, low- flying brown doves chased one another to and fro, and bee-eaters, emerald-green, curvetted like slow swallows. A file of sweepers, each with his load half hidden beneath his garment, were marching to some dreadful dumping-hole that existed on the edge of the jungle. Starveling wretches34, with stick-like limbs and knees too feeble to be straightened, draped in earth-coloured rags, they were like a procession of shrouded35 skeletons walking.
The mali was breaking ground for a new flower-bed, down by the pigeon-cote that stood near the gate. He was a lymphatic, half- witted Hindu youth, who lived his life in almost complete silence, because he spoke36 some Manipur dialect which nobody else understood, not even his Zerbadi wife. His tongue was also a size too large for his mouth. He salaamed37 low to Flory, covering his face with his hand, then swung his mamootie aloft again and hacked38 at the dry ground with heavy, clumsy strokes, his tender back-muscles quivering.
A sharp grating scream that sounded like 'Kwaaa!' came from the servants quarters. Ko S'la's wives had begun their morning quarrel. The tame fighting cock, called Nero, strutted39 zigzag40 down the path, nervous of Flo, and Ba Pe came out with a bowl of paddy and they fed Nero and the pigeons. There were more yells from the servants' quarters, and the gruffer voices of men trying to stop the quarrel. Ko S'la suffered a great deal from his wives. Ma Pu, the first wife, was a gaunt hard-faced woman, stringy from much child-bearing, and Ma Yi, the 'little wife', was a fat, lazy cat some years younger. The two women fought incessantly41 when Flory was in headquarters and they were together. Once when Ma Pu was chasing Ko S'la with a bamboo, he had dodged42 behind Flory for protection, and Flory had received a nasty blow on the leg.
Mr Macgregor was coming up the road, striding briskly and swinging a thick walking-stick. He was dressed in khaki pagri-cloth shirt, drill shorts and a pigsticker topi. Besides his exercises, he took a brisk two-mile walk every morning when he could spare the time.
'Top o' the mornin' to ye!' he called to Flory in a hearty43 matutinal voice, putting on an Irish accent. He cultivated a brisk, invigorating, cold-bath demeanour at this hour of the morning. Moreover, the libellous article in the Burmese Patriot44, which he had read overnight, had hurt him, and he was affecting a special cheeriness to conceal45 this.
Nasty old bladder of lard! he thought, watching Mr Macgregor up the road. How his bottom did stick out in those tight khaki shorts. Like one of those beastly middle-aged47 scoutmasters, homosexuals almost to a man, that you see photographs of in the illustrated48 papers. Dressing49 himself up in those ridiculous clothes and exposing his pudgy, dimpled knees, because it is the pukka sahib thing to take exercise before breakfast--disgusting!
A Burman came up the hill, a splash of white and magenta50. It was Flory's clerk, coming from the tiny office, which was not far from the church. Reaching the gate, he shikoed and presented a grimy envelope, stamped Burmese-fashion on the point of the flap.
'Good morning, sir.'
'Good morning. What's this thing?'
'Oh bother. All right, I'll be down to the office about eleven.'
Flory opened the letter. It was written on a sheet of foolscap, and it ran:
MR JOHN FLORY,
SIR,--I the undersigned beg to suggest and WARN to your honour certain useful pieces of information whereby your honour will be much profited, sir.
Sir, it has been remarked in Kyauktada your honour's great friendship and intimacy53 with Dr Veraswami, the Civil Surgeon, frequenting with him, inviting54 him to your house, etc. Sir, we beg to inform you that the said Dr Veraswami is NOT A GOOD MAN and in no ways a worthy55 friend of European gentlemen. The doctor is eminently56 dishonest, disloyal and corrupt57 public servant. Coloured water is he providing to patients at the hospital and selling drugs for own profit, besides many bribes58, extortions, etc. Two prisoners has he flogged with bamboos, afterwards rubbing chilis into the place if relatives do not send money. Besides this he is implicated59 with the Nationalist Party and lately provided material for a very evil article which appeared in the Burmese Patriot attacking Mr Macgregor, the honoured Deputy Commissioner60.
He is also sleeping by force with female patients at the hospital.
Wherefore we are much hoping that your honour will ESCHEW61 same Dr Veraswami and not consort62 with persons who can bring nothing but evil upon your honour.
And shall ever pray for your honour's long health and prosperity.
(Signed) A FRIEND.
The letter was written in the shaky round hand of the bazaar63 letter-writer, which resembled a copybook exercise written by a drunkard. The letter-writer, however, would never have risen to such a word as 'eschew'. The letter must have been dictated64 by a clerk, and no doubt it came ultimately from U Po Kyin. From 'the crocodile', Flory reflected.
He did not like the tone of the letter. Under its appearance of servility it was obviously a covert65 threat. 'Drop the doctor or we will make it hot for you', was what it said in effect. Not that that mattered greatly; no Englishman ever feels himself in real danger from an Oriental.
Flory hesitated with the letter in his hands. There are two things one can do with an anonymous letter. One can say nothing about it, or one can show it to the person whom it concerns. The obvious, the decent course was to give the letter to Dr Veraswami and let him take what action he chose.
And yet--it was safer to keep out of this business altogether. It is so important (perhaps the most important of all the Ten Precepts66 of the pukka sahib) not to entangle67 oneself in 'native' quarrels. With Indians there must be no loyalty68, no real friendship. Affection, even love--yes. Englishmen do often love Indians-- native officers, forest rangers69, hunters, clerks, servants. Sepoys will weep like children when their colonel retires. Even intimacy is allowable, at the right moments. But alliance, partisanship71, never! Even to know the rights and wrongs of a 'native' quarrel is a loss of prestige.
If he published the letter there would be a row and an official inquiry72, and, in effect, he would have thrown in his lot with the doctor against U Po Kyin. U Po Kyin did not matter, but there were the Europeans; if he, Flory, were too conspicuously73 the doctor's partisan70, there might be hell to pay. Much better to pretend that the letter had never reached him. The doctor was a good fellow, but as to championing him against the full fury of pukka sahibdom-- ah, no, no! What shall it profit a man if he save his own soul and lose the whole world? Flory began to tear the letter across. The danger of making it public was very slight, very nebulous. But one must beware of the nebulous dangers in India. Prestige, the breath of life, is itself nebulous. He carefully tore the letter into small pieces and threw them over the gate.
At this moment there was a terrified scream, quite different from the voices of Ko S'la's wives. The mali lowered his mamootie and gaped74 in the direction of the sound, and Ko S'la, who had also heard it, came running bareheaded from the servants' quarters, while Flo sprang to her feet and yapped sharply. The scream was repeated. It came from the jungle behind the house, and it was an English voice, a woman's, crying out in terror.
There was no way out of the compound by the back. Flory scrambled75 over the gate and came down with his knee bleeding from a splinter. He ran round the compound fence and into the jungle, Flo following. Just behind the house, beyond the first fringe of bushes, there was a small hollow, which, as there was a pool of stagnant76 water in it, was frequented by buffaloes78 from Nyaunglebin. Flory pushed his way through the bushes. In the hollow an English girl, chalk-faced, was cowering79 against a bush, while a huge buffalo77 menaced her with its crescent-shaped horns. A hairy calf81, no doubt the cause of the trouble, stood behind. Another buffalo, neck-deep in the slime of the pool, looked on with mild prehistoric82 face, wondering what was the matter.
The girl turned an agonized83 face to Flory as he appeared. 'Oh, do be quick!' she cried, in the angry, urgent tone of people who are frightened. 'Please! Help me! Help me!'
Flory was too astonished to ask any questions. He hastened towards her, and, in default of a stick, smacked84 the buffalo sharply on the nose. With a timid, loutish85 movement the great beast turned aside, then lumbered86 off followed by the calf. The other buffalo also extricated87 itself from the slime and lolloped away. The girl threw herself against Flory, almost into his arms, quite overcome by her fright.
'Oh, thank you, thank you! Oh, those dreadful things! What ARE they? I thought they were going to kill me. What horrible creatures! What ARE they?'
They're only water-buffaloes. They come from the village up there.'
'Buffaloes?'
'Not wild buffaloes--bison, we call those. They're just a kind of cattle the Burmans keep. I say, they've given you a nasty shock. I'm sorry.'
She was still clinging closely to his arm, and he could feel her shaking. He looked down, but he could not see her face, only the top of her head, hatless, with yellow hair as short as a boy's. And he could see one of the hands on his arm. It was long, slender, youthful, with the mottled wrist of a schoolgirl. It was several years since he had seen such a hand. He became conscious of the soft, youthful body pressed against his own, and the warmth breathing out of it; whereat something seemed to thaw88 and grow warm within him.
'It's all right, they're gone,' he said. 'There's nothing to be frightened of.'
The girl was recovering from her fright, and she stood a little away from him, with one hand still on his arm. 'I'm all right,' she said. 'It's nothing. I'm not hurt. They didn't touch me. It was only their looking so awful.'
'They're quite harmless really. Their horns are set so far back that they can't gore89 you. They're very stupid brutes90. They only pretend to show fight when they've got calves91.'
They had stood apart now, and a slight embarrassment92 came over them both immediately. Flory had already turned himself sidelong to keep his birthmarked cheek away from her. He said:
'I say, this is a queer sort of introduction! I haven't asked yet how you got here. Wherever did you come from--if it's not rude to ask?'
'I just came out of my uncle's garden. It seemed such a nice morning, I thought I'd go for a walk. And then those dreadful things came after me. I'm quite new to this country, you see.'
'Your uncle? Oh, of course! You're Mr Lackersteen's niece. We heard you were coming. I say, shall we get out on to the maidan? There'll be a path somewhere. What a start for your first morning in Kyauktada! This'll give you rather a bad impression of Burma, I'm afraid.'
'Oh no; only it's all rather strange. How thick these bushes grow! All kind of twisted together and foreign-looking. You could get lost here in a moment. Is that what they call jungle?'
'Scrub jungle. Burma's mostly jungle--a green, unpleasant land, I call it. I wouldn't walk through that grass if I were you. The seeds get into your stockings and work their way into your skin.'
He let the girl walk ahead of him, feeling easier when she could not see his face. She was tallish for a girl, slender, and wearing a lilac-coloured cotton frock. From the way she moved her limbs he did not think she could be much past twenty. He had not noticed her face yet, except to see that she wore round tortoise-shell spectacles, and that her hair was as short as his own. He had never seen a woman with cropped hair before, except in the illustrated papers.
As they emerged on to the maidan he stepped level with her, and she turned to face him. Her face was oval, with delicate, regular features; not beautiful, perhaps, but it seemed so there, in Burma, where all Englishwomen are yellow and thin. He turned his head sharply aside, though the birthmark was away from her. He could not bear her to see his worn face too closely. He seemed to feel the withered93 skin round his eyes as though it had been a wound. But he remembered that he had shaved that morning, and it gave him courage. He said:
'I say, you must be a bit shaken up after this business. Would you like to come into my place and rest a few minutes before you go home? It's rather late to be out of doors without a hat, too.'
'Oh, thank you, I would,' the girl said. She could not, he thought, know anything about Indian notions of propriety94. 'Is this your house here?'
'Yes. We must go round the front way. I'll have the servants get a sunshade for you. This sun's dangerous for you, with your short hair.'
They walked up the garden path. Flo was frisking round them and trying to draw attention to herself. She always barked at strange Orientals, but she liked the smell of a European. The sun was growing stronger. A wave of blackcurrant scent80 flowed from the petunias95 beside the path, and one of the pigeons fluttered to the earth, to spring immediately into the air again as Flo made a grab at it. Flory and the girl stopped with one consent, to look at the flowers. A pang96 of unreasonable97 happiness had gone through them both.
'You really mustn't go out in this sun without a hat on,' he repeated, and somehow there was an intimacy in saying it. He could not help referring to her short hair somehow, it seemed to him so beautiful. To speak of it was like touching it with his hand.
'Look, your knee's bleeding,' the girl said. 'Did you do that when you were coming to help me?'
There was a slight trickle98 of blood, which was drying, purple, on his khaki stocking. 'It's nothing,' he said, but neither of them felt at that moment that it was nothing. They began chattering99 with extraordinary eagerness about the flowers. The girl 'adored' flowers, she said. And Flory led her up the path, talking garrulously100 about one plant and another.
'Look how these phloxes grow. They go on blooming for six months in this country. They can't get too much sun. I think those yellow ones must be almost the colour of primroses102. I haven't seen a primrose101 for fifteen years, nor a wallflower, either. Those zinnias are fine, aren't they?--like painted flowers, with those wonderful dead colours. These are African marigolds. They're coarse things, weeds almost, but you can't help liking103 them, they're so vivid and strong. Indians have an extraordinary affection for them; wherever Indians have been you find marigolds growing, even years afterwards when the jungle has buried every other trace of them. But I wish you'd come into the veranda and see the orchids104. I've some I must show that are just like bells of gold--but literally105 like gold. And they smell of honey, almost overpoweringly. That's about the only merit of this beastly country, it's good for flowers. I hope you're fond of gardening? It's our greatest consolation106, in this country.'
'Oh, I simply adore gardening,' the girl said.
They went into the veranda. Ko S'la had hurriedly put on his ingyi and his best pink silk gaungbaung, and he appeared from within the house with a tray on which were a decanter of gin, glasses and a box of cigarettes. He laid them on the table, and, eyeing the girl half apprehensively107, put his hands flat together and shikoed.
'I expect it's no use offering you a drink at this hour of the morning?' Flory said. 'I can never get it into my servant's head that SOME people can exist without gin before breakfast.'
He added himself to the number by waving away the drink Ko S'la offered him. The girl had sat down in the wicker chair that Ko S'la had set out for her at the end of the veranda. The dark- leaved orchids hung behind her head, with gold trusses of blossom, breathing out warm honey-scent. Flory was standing108 against the veranda rail, half facing the girl, but keeping his birthmarked cheek hidden.
'Yes, isn't it? Splendid, in this yellow light, before the sun gets going. I love that sombre yellow colour the maidan has, and those gold mohur trees, like blobs of crimson110. And those hills at the horizon, almost black. My camp is on the other side of those hills,' he added.
The girl, who was long-sighted, took off her spectacles to look into the distance. He noticed that her eyes were very clear pale blue, paler than a harebell. And he noticed the smoothness of the skin round her eyes, like a petal111, almost. It reminded him of his age and his haggard face again, so that he turned a little more away from her. But he said on impulse:
'I say, what a bit of luck you coming to Kyauktada! You can't imagine the difference it makes to us to see a new face in these places. After months of our own miserable112 society, and an occasional official on his rounds and American globe-trotters skipping up the Irrawaddy with cameras. I suppose you've come straight from England?'
'Well, not England exactly. I was living in Paris before I came out here. My mother was an artist, you see.'
'Paris! Have you really lived in Paris? By Jove, just fancy coming from Paris to Kyauktada! Do you know, it's positively113 difficult, in a hole like this, to believe that there ARE such places as Paris.'
'Do you like Paris?' she said.
'I've never even seen it. But, good Lord, how I've imagined it! Paris--it's all a kind of jumble114 of pictures in my mind; cafes and boulevards and artists' studios and Villon and Baudelaire and Maupassant all mixed up together. You don't know how the names of those European towns sound to us, out here. And did you really live in Paris? Sitting in cafes with foreign art students, drinking white wine and talking about Marcel Proust?'
'Oh, that kind of thing, I suppose,' said the girl, laughing.
'What differences you'll find here! It's not white wine and Marcel Proust here. Whisky and Edgar Wallace more likely. But if you ever want books, you might find something you liked among mine. There's nothing but tripe115 in the Club library. But of course I'm hopelessly behind the times with my books. I expect you'll have read everything under the sun.'
'Oh no. But of course I simply adore reading,' the girl said.
'What it means to meet somebody who cares for books! I mean books worth reading, not that garbage in the Club libraries. I do hope you'll forgive me if I overwhelm you with talk. When I meet somebody who's heard that books exist, I'm afraid I go off like a bottle of warm beer. It's a fault you have to pardon in these countries.'
'Oh, but I love talking about books. I think reading is so wonderful. I mean, what would life be without it? It's such a-- such a--'
'Such a private Alsatia. Yes--'
They plunged116 into an enormous and eager conversation, first about books, then about shooting, in which the girl seemed to have an interest and about which she persuaded Flory to talk. She was quite thrilled when he described the murder of an elephant which he had perpetrated some years earlier. Flory scarcely noticed, and perhaps the girl did not either, that it was he who did all the talking. He could not stop himself, the joy of chattering was so great. And the girl was in a mood to listen. After all, he had saved her from the buffalo, and she did not yet believe that those monstrous117 brutes could be harmless; for the moment he was almost a hero in her eyes. When one does get any credit in this life, it is usually for something that one has not done. It was one of those times when the conversation flows so easily, so naturally, that one could go on talking forever. But suddenly, their pleasure evaporated, they started and fell silent. They had noticed that they were no longer alone.
At the other end of the veranda, between the rails, a coal-black moustachioed face was peeping with enormous curiosity. It belonged to old Sammy, the 'Mug' cook. Behind him stood Ma Pu, Ma Yi, Ko S'la's four eldest118 children, an unclaimed naked child, and two old women who had come down from the village upon the news that an 'Ingaleikma' was on view. Like carved teak statues with footlong cigars stuck in their wooden faces, the two old creatures gazed at the 'Ingaleikma' as English yokels119 might gaze at a Zulu warrior120 in full regalia.
'Those people . . .' the girl said uncomfortably, looking towards them.
Sammy, seeing himself detected, looked very guilty and pretended to be rearranging his pagri. The rest of the audience were a little abashed121, except for the two wooden-faced old women.
'Dash their cheek!' Flory said. A cold pang of disappointment went through him. After all, it would not do for the girl to stay on his veranda any longer. Simultaneously122 both he and she had remembered that they were total strangers. Her face had turned a little pink. She began putting on her spectacles.
'I'm afraid an English girl is rather a novelty to these people,' he said. 'They don't mean any harm. Go away!' he added angrily, waving his hand at the audience, whereupon they vanished.
'Do you know, if you don't mind, I think I ought to be going,' the girl said. She had stood up. 'I've been out quite a long time. They may be wondering where I've got to.'
'Must you really? It's quite early. I'll see that you don't have to go home bareheaded in the sun.'
'I ought really--' she began again.
Ma Hla May came forward with her hand on her hip52. She had come from within the house, with a calm air that asserted her right to be there. The two girls stood face to face, less than six feet apart.
No contrast could have been stranger; the one faintly coloured as an apple-blossom, the other dark and garish124, with a gleam almost metallic125 on her cylinder126 of ebony hair and the salmon-pink silk of her longyi. Flory thought he had never noticed before how dark Ma Hla May's face was, and how outlandish her tiny, stiff body, straight as a soldier's, with not a curve in it except the vase- like curve of her hips127. He stood against the veranda rail and watched the two girls, quite disregarded. For the best part of a minute neither of them could take her eyes from the other; but which found the spectacle more grotesque128, more incredible, there is no saying.
Ma Hla May turned her face round to Flory, with her black brows, thin as pencil lines, drawn129 together. 'Who is this woman?' she demanded sullenly130.
'Go away this instant. If you make any trouble I will afterwards take a bamboo and beat you till not one of your ribs132 is whole.'
Ma Hla May hesitated, shrugged133 her small shoulders and disappeared. And the other, gazing after her, said curiously134:
'Was that a man or a woman?'
'A woman,' he said. 'One of the servants' wives, I believe. She came to ask about the laundry, that was all.'
'Oh, is THAT what Burmese women are like? They ARE queer little creatures! I saw a lot of them on my way up here in the train, but do you know, I thought they were all boys. They're just like a kind of Dutch doll, aren't they?'
She had begun to move towards the veranda steps, having lost interest in Ma Hla May now that she had disappeared. He did not stop her, for he thought Ma Hla May quite capable of coming back and making a scene. Not that it mattered much, for neither girl knew a word of the other's language. He called to Ko S'la, and Ko S'la came running with a big oiled-silk umbrella with bamboo ribs. He opened it respectfully at the foot of the steps and held it over the girl's head as she came down. Flory went with them as far as the gate. They stopped to shake hands, he turning a little sideways in the strong sunlight, hiding his birthmark.
'My fellow here will see you home. It was ever so kind of you to come in. I can't tell you how glad I am to have met you. You'll make such a difference to us here in Kyauktada.'
'Good-bye, Mr--oh, how funny! I don't even know your name.'
'Flory, John Flory. And yours--Miss Lackersteen, is it?'
'Yes. Elizabeth. Good-bye, Mr Flory. And thank you EVER so much. That awful buffalo. You quite saved my life.'
'It was nothing. I hope I shall see you at the Club this evening? I expect your uncle and aunt will be coming down. Good-bye for the time being, then.'
He stood at the gate, watching them as they went. Elizabeth-- lovely name, too rare nowadays. He hoped she spelt it with a Z. Ko S'la trotted135 after her at a queer uncomfortable gait, reaching the umbrella over her head and keeping his body as far away from her as possible. A cool breath of wind blew up the hill. It was one of those momentary136 winds that blow sometimes in the cold weather in Burma, coming from nowhere, filling one with thirst and with nostalgia137 for cold sea-pools, embraces of mermaids138, waterfalls, caves of ice. It rustled139 through the wide domes140 of the gold mohur trees, and fluttered the fragments of the anonymous letter that Flory had thrown over the gate half an hour earlier.
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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zinc
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| n.锌；vt.在...上镀锌 | |
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morosely
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| adv.愁眉苦脸地，忧郁地 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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upwards
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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notched
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| a.有凹口的，有缺口的 | |
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interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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constables
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| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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18
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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19
ferociously
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| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
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20
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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21
offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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22
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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23
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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24
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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25
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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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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27
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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28
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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29
stank
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| n. (英)坝，堰，池塘 动词stink的过去式 | |
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30
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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31
stout
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| adj.强壮的，粗大的，结实的，勇猛的，矮胖的 | |
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32
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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33
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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34
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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35
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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36
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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37
salaamed
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| 行额手礼( salaam的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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39
strutted
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| 趾高气扬地走，高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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41
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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42
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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43
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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44
patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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45
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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46
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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47
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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48
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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49
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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50
magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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51
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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52
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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53
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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54
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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55
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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56
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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57
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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58
bribes
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| n.贿赂( bribe的名词复数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂v.贿赂( bribe的第三人称单数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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59
implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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60
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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61
eschew
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| v.避开，戒绝 | |
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62
consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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63
bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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64
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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65
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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66
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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67
entangle
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| vt.缠住，套住；卷入，连累 | |
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68
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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69
rangers
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| 护林者( ranger的名词复数 )； 突击队员 | |
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70
partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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71
Partisanship
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| n. 党派性, 党派偏见 | |
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72
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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73
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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74
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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75
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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76
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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77
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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78
buffaloes
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| n.水牛（分非洲水牛和亚洲水牛两种）( buffalo的名词复数 )；（南非或北美的）野牛；威胁；恐吓 | |
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79
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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80
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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81
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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82
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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83
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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84
smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
loutish
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| adj.粗鲁的 | |
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86
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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87
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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89
gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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90
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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91
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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92
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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93
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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94
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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95
petunias
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| n.矮牵牛（花）( petunia的名词复数 ) | |
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96
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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97
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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98
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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99
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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100
garrulously
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101
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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102
primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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103
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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104
orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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105
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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106
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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107
apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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108
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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109
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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110
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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111
petal
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| n.花瓣 | |
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112
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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113
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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114
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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115
tripe
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| n.废话，肚子, 内脏 | |
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116
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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117
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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118
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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119
yokels
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| n.乡下佬，土包子( yokel的名词复数 ) | |
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120
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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121
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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123
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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124
garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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125
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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126
cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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127
hips
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| 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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128
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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129
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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130
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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131
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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132
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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133
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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134
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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135
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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136
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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137
nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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138
mermaids
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| n.（传说中的）美人鱼( mermaid的名词复数 ) | |
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139
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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140
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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