'Princesse, mon ange!' 'Pachette!'21 'Dear cousin Alina!' 'Who'd have thought? It's been So long. You'll stay? Well, stop this fussing, Sit down a how wonderful, a scene Out of a novel, just the manner.'

'But meet my daughter here, Tatiana.'

'Ah Tanya, come to me, my dear...

I'm getting quite deranged, I fear...

Our Grandison, do you remember?'

'What Grandison? Oh, Grandison!

Of course, I wonder where he's gone?'

'Lives near St Simeon's;22 last December, On Christmas Eve he called on me: Married a son quite recently.

42.

'The other one a a little patience...

Tomorrow, Tanya we shall show To all her various relations.

Pity, I'm too infirm to go, I scarce can drag my feet, the devils, But you are weary from your travels; Together let us take a rest, Oh, I've no strength... my poor, tired chest...

Not even joy, not only sorrow Is hard for me to bear, my dear.

I'm good for nothing now, it's clear.

Life in old age is such a horror.'

And, weeping, by exhaustion hit, She breaks into a coughing fit.

43.

Tatiana's touched by the good-hearted Affection of the invalid, And yet she is unhappy, parted From her accustomed room and bed.

Round her a silken curtain closes, Yet she can't sleep, when she reposes, The church bells' early roundelay, Precursor of the labouring day, Arouses her, and in the shadows She sits beside the window, sees The darkness thinning by degrees, But can't discern her fields, her meadows, Before her lies a yard that's strange, A stable, fence and kitchen range.

44.

To daily dinners Tanya's taken With her extended family, But grandmas, grandpas cannot quicken The girl's abstracted lethargy.

Relatives from a far location Are welcomed with solicitation, With exclamations and good cheer.

'How Tanya's grown! How long, my dear, Since at your christening I dried you,'

'And since I held you a all those years!'

'And since I pulled you by the ears!'23 'And since with gingerbread I plied you!'

And grandmothers in chorus cry: 'Oh how our years go flying by!'

45.

But nothing changes in their bearing, Where age-old fashion is the rule; The princess Aunt Yelena's wearing Her ancient mobcap made of tulle; Cerused still is Lukerya Lvovna, Still telling lies Lyubov Petrovna, Ivan Petrovich is inane, Semyon Petrovich24 just as mean; Still Pelageya Nikolavna Keeps Monsieur Finemouche25 in her house With Pomeranian dog26 and spouse.

While he, the conscientious clubber,27 Is still the meek and deaf man who Consumes and drinks enough for two.

46.

Their daughters put their arms round Tanya.

These graces of young Moscow28 now Without a word observe Tatiana, Surveying her from top to toe; They find her somewhat unexpected, Provincial and a touch affected, A little pale, a little thin, But pa.s.sable for kith and kin; And then, to nature's way submitting, They take her to their rooms, make friends, And kiss her, gently squeezing hands, Fluff up her curls to look more fitting, And in their singsong tones impart Maids' secrets, secrets of the heart,

47.

Conquests, their own and those of others, Their hopes, their pranks, their reveries.

Their guileless conversation gathers, Embellished by slight calumnies, Then, to requite their indiscretion, They sweetly ask for her confession Of secrets of the heart she keeps.

But Tanya, just as if she sleeps, Is hearing them without partaking, And, understanding nothing, she Protects her secret silently, Her heart's fond treasure, blissful, aching, The tears and joys she will not share With anyone encountered there.

48.

Tatiana seeks to be convivial, To listen to what people say, But in the drawing-room such trivial And incoherent rot holds sway; The people are so pale and weary, Their very slander's dull and dreary.

Within this land of sterile views, Interrogations, gossip, news, Through four-and-twenty hours you'll never Spot one lone thought, even by chance; A languid mind won't smile or dance, Even in jest the heart won't quiver.

We might to foolish jokes respond, If you but knew some, hollow monde!

49.

The archive boys29 in congregation Cast eyes on Tanya priggishly And speak of her with denigration In one another's company.

But there's one c.o.xcomb in dejection For whom she seems ideal perfection, And, leaning on a doorpost, he Prepares for her an elegy.

Once, Vyazemsky,30 on meeting Tanya At some dull aunt's, sat by the girl And managed to engage her soul, And near him, an old man,31 who'd seen her, Straightening out his wig, inquired After this maiden he admired.

50.

But where Melpomene32 is uttering Her loud, protracted wails, laments And, with her gaudy mantle fluttering, Confronts a frigid audience, Where Thalia33 is quietly napping, Hearkening not to friendly clapping, Where to Terpsich.o.r.e alone he young spectator now is drawn (As was the case in years departed, In your day and in mine the same), At whom no jealous ladies aim Lorgnettes when once the ballet's started.

Nor modish experts train a gla.s.s, From box or stall, to judge her cla.s.s.

51.

To the a.s.sembly,34 too, they bring her, Where the excitement, crush and heat, The tapers' glare, the music's clangour, The flicker, whirl of dancing feet, The light attire of pretty women, The galleries with people br.i.m.m.i.n.g, The arc of seats for brides-to-be All strike the senses suddenly.

Here are inveterate fops, parading Their waistcoats and impertinence, And nonchalantly held lorgnettes.

Here are hussars on leave, invading, Who, thundering through in great display, Flash, captivate and fly away.

52.

The night has many starry cl.u.s.ters, And Moscow pretty women, too, But, brighter far than all her sisters, The moon shines in the airy blue.

But she a my lyre dares not disquiet her With songs, I fear, that won't delight her a Shines like the regal moon alone 'Midst maids and ladies round her throne.

With what celestial pride she graces The earth which by her is caressed, What blissful feelings fill her breast, How wondrous-languidly she gazes!...

But stop, enough, I beg of you, To folly now you've paid your due.