Part 21 (1/2)

La, sotto i giorni nubilosi e brevi, Nasce una gente a cui 'l morir non dole.1 Petrarch

1.

On noticing his friend had vanished, Onegin stayed at Olga's side, Pensive, again to boredom banished, Content with vengeance satisfied, Now Olen'ka like him was yawning, Her eyes in search of Lensky turning, While the cotillion's endless stream Oppressed her like a grievous dream.

But it has ended. Supper's ready.

The beds are made. The guests are all a.s.signed their place from entrance-hall To housemaids' quarters. All are needy Of restful sleep. Alone Eugene Drives home from this domestic scene.

2.

All's calm: from the salon ascended The snores of heavy Pustyakov, Beside his heavy wife extended.

Gvozdin, Buyanov, Petushkov And Flyanov (somewhat over-sated) Were on the dinner chairs located, And on the floor Monsieur Triquet In vest and ancient nightcap lay.

The rooms of Olga and Tatiana Were full of sleeping girls. Alone And sad, Tatiana shone, Illuminated by Diana; To sleep, poor thing, she could not yield And gazed upon the darkened field.

3.

Tatiana to her soul is riven By Eugene's unexpected call, The sudden tender look he'd given, His strange approach to Olga a all Distresses her and makes her wonder, To understand him's quite beyond her: A jealous anguish makes her start, As if a cold hand pressed her heart, As if a chasm, black and frightful, Had opened, roaring, under her.

'I'll die,' she says, but does not stir, 'To die from him will be delightful.2 I shan't complain, for I confess He cannot bring me happiness.'

4.

But onward, onward with my story!

Another character arrives.

Five versts away from Krasnogorye (Lensky's estate) there lives and thrives In philosophical seclusion Still to this day, without intrusion, Zaretsky, once a brawler and The hetman3 of a gaming band, Chieftain of rakes, a pub declaimer, But now, benign and simple, he Maintains a bachelor family; A steadfast friend, a squire grown tamer, He's even honest a thus our age Improves itself at every stage.4

5.

Time was, he stood upon a pedestal, Society flattered him with praise: He was a maestro with a pistol Who could at twelve yards. .h.i.t an ace, And once, engaged in actual battle, Enraptured, he displayed his mettle By falling from his Kalmuck steed Into the mud at daring speed; Drunk as a swine, this precious hostage Surrendered to a Gallic squad, A modern Regulus,5 honour's G.o.d, Prepared to yield again to bondage, To drain on credit two or three Carafes each morning chez Very.6

6.

To tease was once his recreation, He'd dupe a fool or stupefy A man of educated station, In public gaze or on the sly, Although some tricks he perpetrated Did not remain uncastigated, And sometimes, like a simple chap, He'd fall himself into a trap.

He could dispute and be amusing, Respond with answers, smart or dumb, At times judiciously keep mum Or be judiciously abusing, Encourage two young friends to strife And set them duelling for their life,

7.

Alternatively reconcile them, Arrange a breakfast for the three, And, later, secretly revile them With merry jokes and braggartry.

Sed alia tempora!7Audacity (Like lover's dream, another vanity) Departs when lively youth has fled.

And my Zaretsky, as I said, Lives like a sage, discovering solace Where bird cherry, acacia climb;8 Sheltered from storms, he spends his time In planting cabbages, like Horace,9 And breeding ducks and geese, is free To teach his kids their ABC.