Eugene remained there, motionless.

20.

Could it be she, the same Tatiana, The very maiden he once met In that remote and distant corner And preached to in a tete-a-tete With loftiness and exhortation, When we embarked on our narration, Was hers the letter he'd preserved, In which her heart spoke, unreserved, Out in the open, undeflected, That little girl... a dream, maybe?

That little girl... the one whom he Had, in her humble lot, neglected, Could it be she who, now so bold, Had, heedless, left him in the cold?

21.

He leaves the packed hall hurriedly And pensively he drives back home, His tardy sleep is worried by A dream, now sad, now full of charm, He wakes; an invitation's brought; His presence by Prince N is sought At a soiree. 'My G.o.d, to her!

I will, I will, without demur!

He scrawls a courteous 'Yes, I'll be there.'

What's happening? In what strange dream Is he now? What, deep down in him, Has stirred his sluggish soul to fever?

Pique? Vanity? Or, once again, Could it be love, that youthful pain?

22.

The pa.s.sing hours Onegin's counting, For day to end he cannot wait.

But ten strikes,20 he's already mounting His carriage, soon he's at the gate.

He enters in a nervous manner, There, on her own, he finds Tatiana, Some minutes they together sit.

Once more Onegin cannot fit A word in place. Embarra.s.sed, sullen, He scarcely can reply to her.

But all the time his mind's a-whirr.

A fixed idea he keeps on mulling.

And fixedly he looks, while she Sits calmly and at liberty.

23.

Her husband enters, interrupting This most unpleasant tete-a-tete, And joins Onegin in recapturing Pranks, jokes enjoyed, when first they met.

They laugh together. Guests now enter And with the large-grained salt of banter The grand monde's conversation sparks; Around the hostess, light remarks Are flashing without affectation.

While, interrupting them, good sense Eschews ba.n.a.lity, pretence, Eternal truths, pontification, And, in its free vivacity, Shocks n.o.body's propriety.

24.

Yet here was found the city's flower: n.o.bles and fashion's exemplars, Faces one meets with every hour, And fools a a necessary cla.s.s; Here were, in mobcaps and in roses, Elderly dames who looked ferocious; Here there were several spinsters, who Would never think to smile at you; Here an amba.s.sador was speaking About some government affair; Here was, with scented, greying hair, An old man in the old way joking: With first-rate wit and subtle play, That seem somewhat absurd today.

25.

Here was, to epigrams addicted, An irritable gentleman, Cross with the tea a too sweet a liquid a With trivial ladies, vulgar men, The foggy novel being debated, The badge of which two sisters prated,21 The lies the journals told, the war,22 The snow, and wife he found a bore23 ................................................

26.

Here was Prolasov24 whose distinction Lay in his soul's depravity, In every alb.u.m you can mention He wore your pencils down, Saint-Priest;25 There at the door a ball dictator, Fit for a fashion ill.u.s.trator, Pink as a Palm Week cherub,26 shone, Tight-b.u.t.toned, mute and still as stone; A jackanapes, a bird of pa.s.sage, With neck-cloth overstarched,27 produced A smile among the guests, seduced By his fastidious poise and carriage, But silent glances in the end Confirmed he was by all condemned.

27.

Throughout the evening my Onegin Thought only of Tatiana, not The shy young girl that he'd forsaken, Simple and poor, by love distraught, But the princess, so very different, Now the G.o.ddess, so very distant, Ruling the opulent Neva.

O humans! You're so similar To Eve, our ancestress: what's granted Does not appeal to you at all, You hear the serpent's endless call To where a secret tree is planted; Forbidden fruit provides more spice, Without it there's no paradise.

28.

How changed Tatiana is, adapting So resolutely to her role, With what alacrity accepting The codes of rank that cramp the soul!

Who'd dare to seek the tender creature In this majestic legislator Of every salon, one whose heart Had once by him been torn apart?

Time was, when virginally grieving For Eugene in the dark of night, While Morpheus28 was still in flight, She raised her tired eyes moonward, dreaming Of how together they might wend Their humble journey to the end.

29.

Love is for every age auspicious, But for the virginal and young Its impulses are more propitious Like vernal storms on meadows sprung: They freshen in the rain of pa.s.sion, Ripening in their renovation a And life, empowered, sends up shoots Of richest blooms and sweetest fruits.

But at a late age, dry and fruitless, The final stage to which we're led, Sad is the trace of pa.s.sions dead: Thus storms in autumn, cold and ruthless, Transform the field into a slough, And strip the trees from root to bough.

30.

There is no doubt, alas, that Eugene's In love with Tanya like a child, And every day and night imagines, In throes of love, some fancy wild, Not harking to his mind's stern censures, Each day up to her porch he ventures, Into her entrance hall of gla.s.s; He shadows her in every place; He's happy if upon her shoulders He casts a fluffy boa, if he Touches her hand hot-bloodedly Or motley liveries, like soldiers, He separates before her or Her handkerchief picks from the floor.

31.

She does not mark, she does not heed him, Though he might struggle, short of death, To visit her she grants him freedom, Elsewhere she scarcely wastes her breath; Sometimes she'll bow out of politeness, Sometimes she simply takes no notice.

There is no coquetry in her a It is not brooked in her milieu.

Onegin pales, can hardly function.

She does not care or does not see.

Onegin pines away, is he Already suffering from consumption?

All send him to the doctors, they Prescribe a spa without delay.