Part 31 (1/2)

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 flas.h.i.+ng 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 fas.h.i.+on'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.