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第1楼 The Da Vinci Code [中英双解+单词注释]

15

CHAPTER 1

Robert Langdon awoke slowly.

A telephone was ringing in the darkness—a tinny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside
lamp and turned it on. Squinting at his surroundings he saw a plush Renaissance bedroom with
Louis XVI furniture, hand-frescoed walls, and a colossal mahogany four-poster bed.

Where the hell am I?

The jacquard bathrobe hanging on his bedpost bore the monogram: HOTEL RITZ PARIS.

Slowly, the fog began to lift.

Langdon picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Monsieur Langdon?" a man's voice said. "I hope I have not awoken you?"

Dazed, Langdon looked at the bedside clock. It was 12:32 A.M. He had been asleep only an hour,
but he felt like the dead.

"This is the concierge, monsieur. I apologize for this intrusion, but you have a visitor. He insists it
is urgent."

Langdon still felt fuzzy. A visitor? His eyes focused now on a crumpled flyer on his bedside table.

THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY OF PARIS

proudly presents

AN EVENING WITH ROBERT LANGDON

PROFESSOR OF RELIGIOUS SYMBOLOGY,

HARVARD UNIVERSITY



Langdon groaned. Tonight's lecture—a slide show about pagan symbolism hidden in the stones of
Chartres Cathedral—had probably ruffled some conservative feathers in the audience. Most likely,



some religious scholar had trailed him home to pick a fight.

"I'm sorry," Langdon said, "but I'm very tired and—"

"Mais, monsieur," the concierge pressed, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. "Your guest is
an important man."

Langdon had little doubt. His books on religious paintings and cult symbology had made him a
reluctant celebrity in the art world, and last year Langdon's visibility had increased a hundredfold
after his involvement in a widely publicized incident at the Vatican. Since then, the stream of self-
important historians and art buffs arriving at his door had seemed never-ending.

"If you would be so kind," Langdon said, doing his best to remain polite, "could you take the man's
name and number, and tell him I'll try to call him before I leave Paris on Tuesday? Thank you." He
hung up before the concierge could protest.

Sitting up now, Langdon frowned at his bedside Guest Relations Handbook, whose cover boasted:
SLEEP LIKE A BABY IN THE CITY OF LIGHTS. SLUMBER AT THE PARIS RITZ. He
turned and gazed tiredly into the full-length mirror across the room. The man staring back at him
was a stranger—tousled and weary.

You need a vacation, Robert.

The past year had taken a heavy toll on him, but he didn't appreciate seeing proof in the mirror. His
usually sharp blue eyes looked hazy and drawn tonight. A dark stubble was shrouding his strong
jaw and dimpled chin. Around his temples, the gray highlights were advancing, making their way
deeper into his thicket of coarse black hair. Although his female colleagues insisted the gray only
accentuated his bookish appeal, Langdon knew better.

If Boston Magazine could see me now.

Last month, much to Langdon's embarrassment, Boston Magazine had listed him as one of that
city's top ten most intriguing people—a dubious honor that made him the brunt of endless ribbing
by his Harvard colleagues. Tonight, three thousand miles from home, the accolade had resurfaced
to haunt him at the lecture he had given.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." the hostess had announced to a full house at the American University of
Paris's Pavilion Dauphine, "Our guest tonight needs no introduction. He is the author of numerous
books: The Symbology of Secret Sects, The An of the Illuminati, The Lost Language of Ideograms,
and when I say he wrote the book on Religious Iconology, I mean that quite literally. Many of you
use his textbooks in class."

The students in the crowd nodded enthusiastically.



"I had planned to introduce him tonight by sharing his impressive curriculum vitae. However..."
She glanced playfully at Langdon, who was seated onstage. "An audience member has just handed
me a far more, shall we say... intriguing introduction."

She held up a copy of Boston Magazine.

Langdon cringed. Where the hell did she get that?

The hostess began reading choice excerpts from the inane article, and Langdon felt himself sinking
lower and lower in his chair. Thirty seconds later, the crowd was grinning, and the woman showed
no signs of letting up. "And Mr. Langdon's refusal to speak publicly about his unusual role in last
year's Vatican conclave certainly wins him points on our intrigue-o-meter." The hostess goaded the
crowd. "Would you like to hear more?"

The crowd applauded.

Somebody stop her, Langdon pleaded as she dove into the article again.

"Although Professor Langdon might not be considered hunk-handsome like some of our younger
awardees, this forty-something academic has more than his share of scholarly allure. His
captivating presence is punctuated by an unusually low, baritone speaking voice, which his female
students describe as 'chocolate for the ears.' "

The hall erupted in laughter.

Langdon forced an awkward smile. He knew what came next—some ridiculous line about
"Harrison Ford in Harris tweed"—and because this evening he had figured it was finally safe again
to wear his Harris tweed and Burberry turtleneck, he decided to take action.

"Thank you, Monique," Langdon said, standing prematurely and edging her away from the
podium. "Boston Magazine clearly has a gift for fiction." He turned to the audience with an
embarrassed sigh. "And if I find which one of you provided that article, I'll have the consulate
deport you."

The crowd laughed.

"Well, folks, as you all know, I'm here tonight to talk about the power of symbols..."



The ringing of Langdon's hotel phone once again broke the silence.



Groaning in disbelief, he picked up. "Yes?"

As expected, it was the concierge. "Mr. Langdon, again my apologies. I am calling to inform you
that your guest is now en route to your room. I thought I should alert you."

Langdon was wide awake now. "You sent someone to my room?"

"I apologize, monsieur, but a man like this... I cannot presume the authority to stop him."

"Who exactly is he?"

But the concierge was gone.

Almost immediately, a heavy fist pounded on Langdon's door.

Uncertain, Langdon slid off the bed, feeling his toes sink deep into the savonniere carpet. He
donned the hotel bathrobe and moved toward the door. "Who is it?"

"Mr. Langdon? I need to speak with you." The man's English was accented—a sharp, authoritative
bark. "My name is Lieutenant Jerome Collet. Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire."

Langdon paused. The Judicial Police? The DCPJ was the rough equivalent of the U.S. FBI.

Leaving the security chain in place, Langdon opened the door a few inches. The face staring back
at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally lean, dressed in an official-looking
blue uniform.

"May I come in?" the agent asked.

Langdon hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's sallow eyes studied him. "What is this all
about?"

"My capitaine requires your expertise in a private matter."

"Now?" Langdon managed. "It's after midnight."

"Am I correct that you were scheduled to meet with the curator of the Louvre this evening?"

Langdon felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. He and the revered curator Jacques Saunière had been
slated to meet for drinks after Langdon's lecture tonight, but Saunière had never shown up. "Yes.
How did you know that?"

"We found your name in his daily planner."



"I trust nothing is wrong?"

The agent gave a dire sigh and slid a Polaroid snapshot through the narrow opening in the door.

When Langdon saw the photo, his entire body went rigid.

"This photo was taken less than an hour ago. Inside the Louvre."

As Langdon stared at the bizarre image, his initial revulsion and shock gave way to a sudden
upwelling of anger. "Who would do this!"

"We had hoped that you might help us answer that very question, considering your knowledge in
symbology and your plans to meet with him."

Langdon stared at the picture, his horror now laced with fear. The image was gruesome and
profoundly strange, bringing with it an unsettling sense of déjà vu. A little over a year ago,
Langdon had received a photograph of a corpse and a similar request for help. Twenty-four hours
later, he had almost lost his life inside Vatican City. This photo was entirely different, and yet
something about the scenario felt disquietingly familiar.

The agent checked his watch. "My capitaine is waiting, sir."

Langdon barely heard him. His eyes were still riveted on the picture. "This symbol here, and the
way his body is so oddly..."

"Positioned?" the agent offered.

Langdon nodded, feeling a chill as he looked up. "I can't imagine who would do this to someone."

The agent looked grim. "You don't understand, Mr. Langdon. What you see in this photograph..."
He paused. "Monsieur Saunière did that to himself."

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第2楼

单词注释:
1. fumble v.摸索,乱摸

2.renaissance n. 文艺复兴, 文艺复兴时期

3.colossal adj.巨大的, 庞大的

4.mahogany n.[植]桃花心木, 其木材, 红褐色

5.jacquard adj.花布织机的 n.提花机, 提花织物

6.bathrobe n.浴衣

7.concierge n.看门人, 门房

8.slide n 幻灯片

9.bedpost n.床柱

10.monsieur n.先生, 绅士

11.celebrity n.名声, 名人

12.buff n.迷

13.frown vi.皱眉, 蹙额, 不赞成, 反对 v.皱眉

14.jaw n 下巴

15.haunt v.神鬼出没

16.iconology n.肖像(学), 象征主义


17.cringe vi.畏缩, 阿谀, 奉承

18.allure v.吸引

19.crumpled adj.摺皱的, 弄皱的

20.podium n.乐队指挥台, 墩座墙

21.pound vi. 连续敲打

22.agent n.代理(商) ,特工

23.symbology n.符号学, 象征的使用

25.rigid adj.刚硬的, 刚性的, 严厉的

26.riveted adj 用铆钉钉牢的

27.chill n.寒意, 寒战, 寒心 adj.寒冷的, 扫兴的 v.使冷, 变冷, 冷藏

28.tweed n.斜纹软呢, 斜纹软呢服

29.Tweed n.斜纹软呢, 斜纹软呢服

30.impressive adj.给人深刻印象的, 感人的

31.sallow adj.菜色 v.变成菜色

32.scenarion. 想定游戏的关,或是某一特定情节

33.curator n.馆长, 监护人

34.bizarre adj.奇异的(指态度,容貌,款式等)

35.illuminati n.(自称)有睿智的人,先觉者,光照派

36.hazy adj 朦胧的, 烟雾弥漫的, 模糊的

37.flyer n. (广告)传单.

38.plush adj.豪华的, 舒服的

39.squint v.斜视

40.receiver n.接受者, 接收器, 收信机


41.hand-frescoed adj.手工壁画的

42.thicket n.灌木丛

43. pavilion dauphine 王妃亭

44.ideogram n.表意文字, 意符

45.literally adv.照字面意义, 逐字地

46.dimple n.酒窝, 涟漪 vt.使起涟漪

47.monogram n.字母组合

48.intrusion n.闯入, 侵扰

49.hundredfold adj.百倍的 adv.百倍地 n.百倍, 百重

50.tousle n. 糟乱 vt.弄乱, 搅乱

51.drawn adj.拔出的,呆滞的

52.intriguing adj. 有迷惑力的, 令人好奇的

53.temple n.太阳穴

54.accentuate v.重读, 强调, 着重强调

55.bookish adj.书本上的, 好学的

56.onstage adj.台上的,台上演出的

57.accolade n.赞美, 骑士爵位的授予, 连谱号

58 vita 个人简历

59.mean vt 意味 adj 卑鄙的 <贱女孩

60.inane adj.空洞的

61.awardee 受奖者,新人

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第3楼

CHAPTER 2
One mile away, the hulking albino named Silas limped through the front gate of the luxurious brownstone residence on Rue La Bruyère. The spiked cilice belt that he wore around his thigh cut into his flesh, and yet his soul sang with satisfaction of service to the Lord.
Pain is good.
His red eyes scanned the lobby as he entered the residence. Empty. He climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to awaken any of his fellow numeraries. His bedroom door was open; locks were forbidden here. He entered, closing the door behind him.
The room was spartan—hardwood floors, a pine dresser, a canvas mat in the corner that served as his bed. He was a visitor here this week, and yet for many years he had been blessed with a similar sanctuary in New York City.
The Lord has provided me shelter and purpose in my life.
Tonight, at last, Silas felt he had begun to repay his debt. Hurrying to the dresser, he found the cell phone hidden in his bottom drawer and placed a call.
"Yes?" a male voice answered.
"Teacher, I have returned."
"Speak," the voice commanded, sounding pleased to hear from him.
"All four are gone. The three sénéchaux... and the Grand Master himself."
There was a momentary pause, as if for prayer. "Then I assume you have the information?"
"All four concurred. Independently."
"And you believed them?"
"Their agreement was too great for coincidence."
An excited breath. "Excellent. I had feared the brotherhood's reputation for secrecy might prevail."
"The prospect of death is strong motivation."
"So, my pupil, tell me what I must know."
Silas knew the information he had gleaned from his victims would come as a shock. "Teacher, all four confirmed the existence of the clef de voûte... the legendary keystone."
He heard a quick intake of breath over the phone and could feel the Teacher's excitement. "The keystone. Exactly as we suspected."
According to lore, the brotherhood had created a map of stone—a clef de voûte... or keystone—an engraved tablet that revealed the final resting place of the brotherhood's greatest secret...
information so powerful that its protection was the reason for the brotherhood's very existence.
"When we possess the keystone," the Teacher said, "we will be only one step away."
"We are closer than you think. The keystone is here in Paris."
"Paris? Incredible. It is almost too easy."
Silas relayed the earlier events of the evening... how all four of his victims, moments before death, had desperately tried to buy back their godless lives by telling their secret. Each had told Silas the exact same thing—that the keystone was ingeniously hidden at a precise location inside one of Paris's ancient churches—the Eglise de Saint-Sulpice.
"Inside a house of the Lord," the Teacher exclaimed. "How they mock us!"
"As they have for centuries."
The Teacher fell silent, as if letting the triumph of this moment settle over him. Finally, he spoke. "You have done a great service to God. We have waited centuries for this. You must retrieve the stone for me. Immediately. Tonight. You understand the stakes."
Silas knew the stakes were incalculable, and yet what the Teacher was now commanding seemed impossible. "But the church, it is a fortress. Especially at night. How will I enter?"
With the confident tone of a man of enormous influence, the Teacher explained what was to be done.
When Silas hung up the phone, his skin tingled with anticipation.
One hour, he told himself, grateful that the Teacher had given him time to carry out the necessary penance before entering a house of God. I must purge my soul of today's sins. The sins committed today had been holy in purpose. Acts of war against the enemies of God had been committed for centuries. Forgiveness was assured.
Even so, Silas knew, absolution required sacrifice.
Pulling his shades, he stripped naked and knelt in the center of his room. Looking down, he examined the spiked cilice belt clamped around his thigh. All true followers of The Way wore this device—a leather strap, studded with sharp metal barbs that cut into the flesh as a perpetual reminder of Christ's suffering. The pain caused by the device also helped counteract the desires of the flesh.
Although Silas already had worn his cilice today longer than the requisite two hours, he knew today was no ordinary day. Grasping the buckle, he cinched it one notch tighter, wincing as the barbs dug deeper into his flesh. Exhaling slowly, he savored the cleansing ritual of his pain.
Pain is good, Silas whispered, repeating the sacred mantra of Father Josemaría Escrivá—the Teacher of all Teachers. Although Escrivá had died in 1975, his wisdom lived on, his words still whispered by thousands of faithful servants around the globe as they knelt on the floor and performed the sacred practice known as "corporal mortification."
Silas turned his attention now to a heavy knotted rope coiled neatly on the floor beside him. The Discipline. The knots were caked with dried blood. Eager for the purifying effects of his own agony, Silas said a quick prayer. Then, gripping one end of the rope, he closed his eyes and swung it hard over his shoulder, feeling the knots slap against his back. He whipped it over his shoulder again, slashing at his flesh. Again and again, he lashed.
Castigo corpus meum.
Finally, he felt the blood begin to flow.

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第4楼

1.Hulking adj.笨重的, 粗陋的

2.albino n.白化病者, 白化变种

3.brownstone n.褐色砂石, 赤褐色砂石建筑

4.thigh n.大腿, 股

5.hardwood n.硬木, 阔叶树

6.dresser n.梳妆台, 化妆师, 碗柜, (医院)裹伤员

7.concur v.同时发生

8.coincidence n.一致, 相合, 同时发生或同时存在(尤指偶然)的事

9.brotherhood n.手足情谊, 兄弟关系

10.intake [n.(水管、煤气管等的)入口, 进口, 通风口, (在一定期间的)引入的量

11.keystone n.重点, 要旨, 基本原理n.[建] 拱心石, 楔石

12.desperately adv.拼命地, 失望地

13.mock v.嘲笑, 骗, 挫败, 嘲弄 adj.假的n.嘲弄, 模仿, 仿制品

14.triumph n.胜利, 成功v.获得胜利

15.stake n.树桩

16.Retrivev.重新得到n.找回

17.incalculable adj.不可计算的

18.fortress n.堡垒, 要塞

19.tinglevi.造成麻刺的感觉, 兴奋, 丁丁作响vt.使感刺痛n.丁当声, 麻刺感

20.sacrifice n.牺牲, 献身, 祭品, 供奉v.牺牲, 献出, 献祭, 供奉

21.spiked有穗的, 长有穗状花序的,有尖顶的, 成锥形的

22cilice n.粗毛布, 粗毛布所制衬衣

23.clamp n.夹子, 夹具, 夹钳vt.夹住, 夹紧

24.flesh n.肉, (供食用的)兽肉, 肉体, 肉欲

25.requisite] adj.需要的, 必不可少的, 必备的 n.必需品

26.sacred adj.神的, 宗教的, 庄严的, 神圣的

28. mantra颂歌, 咒语

29.neatly adv.整洁地, 优美的, 巧妙的, [酒类]纯的

30.eager adj.热心于, 渴望着

31.purifying n.精制, 提纯, 净化, 精炼

32.gripping adj.引起人注意的；吸引人的

33.slap vt.拍, 掌击, 拍击

34.slashing adj.尖锐的, 苛刻的, 鲜明的, 乱砍的

35.lash n.鞭子, 鞭打, 睫毛, 责骂, 讽刺

36.corpus n.尸体, 文集, (某项基金的)本金

37flow n.流程, 流动, (河水)泛滥, 洋溢vi.流动, 涌流, vt.溢过, 淹没

38.lobby n.大厅

39.pine n.松木

40.mat n.席子, 垫子

41.sanctuary n.避难所,栖身之地

42．repay v.偿还, 报答, 报复

43．Shelter n.掩蔽处, 庇护所, 掩体 v.掩蔽, 躲避

44 senechux 执事。

45．glean v.拾落穗, 收集

46．engrave v.雕刻, (线条, 文字, 图案)于一硬面上, 深印于(心上), 使铭记, 铭刻

47．ingeniously adv.巧妙的，有才能地, 贤明地

48．lord n.,上帝

49．exclaim v.叹道：

50．Penance n.忏悔, 苦修

51.purge v.(使)净化,

52.holy adj.神圣的, 圣洁

53.absolution n.免罪, 赦免

54.buckle n.带扣

55.barb n.鱼钩, 鱼叉的倒钩,

55.exhale v.呼气, 发出, 发散, <古>使蒸发

56.savor vt.品味, 尝到或闻到, 尽情享受n.滋味, 气味, 食欲

57．notch [简明英汉词典] n.槽口, 凹口 n.<美语>山间小路, 刻痕, 峡谷

58．corporal adj.肉体的, 身体的

59．mortification n.羞辱, 禁欲

60．Grip抓住。

61．Swing 摆动

62 be caked with 涂上。。。。的

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第5楼

想买这本书，在看电影之前，呵呵

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vb html怎么都禁止了？

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第6楼

可惜电影没有DVD版本

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The individual now has more information available than any generation, and the task of finding that one piece of information relevant to his or her specific problem is complicated, time--consuming, and sometimes even overwhelming.

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