Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin--Delphi Classics (Illustrated) by Alexander Pushkin

Author:Alexander Pushkin [PUSHKIN, ALEXANDER]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Parts Edition 7 of 24 by Delphi Classics
Publisher: Delphi Classics (Parts Edition)
Published: 2017-08-24T00:00:00+00:00

CANTO THE SIXTH

The Duel

‘La, sotto giorni nubilosi e brevi,

Nasce una gente a cui ‘l morir non duole.’

Petrarch

Canto The Sixth

[Mikhailovskoe, 1826: the two final stanzas were, however, written at Moscow.]

I

Having remarked Vladimir’s flight,

Oneguine, bored to death again,

By Olga stood, dejected quite

And satisfied with vengeance ta’en.

Olga began to long likewise

For Lenski, sought him with her eyes,

And endless the cotillon seemed

As if some troubled dream she dreamed.

’Tis done. To supper they proceed.

Bedding is laid out and to all

Assigned a lodging, from the hall(61)

Up to the attic, and all need

Tranquil repose. Eugene alone

To pass the night at home hath gone.

[Note 61: Hospitality is a national virtue of the Russians. On festal occasions in the country the whole party is usually accommodated for the night, or indeed for as many nights as desired, within the house of the entertainer. This of course is rendered necessary by the great distances which separate the residences of the gentry. Still, the alacrity with which a Russian hostess will turn her house topsy-turvy for the accommodation of forty or fifty guests would somewhat astonish the mistress of a modern Belgravian mansion.]

II

All slumber. In the drawing-room

Loud snores the cumbrous Poustiakoff

With better half as cumbersome;

Gvozdine, Bouyanoff, Petoushkoff

And Flianoff, somewhat indisposed,

On chairs in the saloon reposed,

Whilst on the floor Monsieur Triquet

In jersey and in nightcap lay.

In Olga’s and Tattiana’s rooms

Lay all the girls by sleep embraced,

Except one by the window placed

Whom pale Diana’s ray illumes —

My poor Tattiana cannot sleep

But stares into the darkness deep.

III

His visit she had not awaited,

His momentary loving glance

Her inmost soul had penetrated,

And his strange conduct at the dance

With Olga; nor of this appeared

An explanation: she was scared,

Alarmed by jealous agonies:

A hand of ice appeared to seize(62)

Her heart: it seemed a darksome pit

Beneath her roaring opened wide:

“I shall expire,” Tattiana cried,

“But death from him will be delight.

I murmur not! Why mournfulness?

He cannot give me happiness.”

[Note 62: There must be a peculiar appropriateness in this expression as descriptive of the sensation of extreme cold. Mr. Wallace makes use of an identical phrase in describing an occasion when he was frostbitten whilst sledging in Russia. He says (vol. i. p. 33): “My fur cloak flew open, the cold seemed to grasp me in the region of the heart, and I fell insensible.”]

IV

Haste, haste thy lagging pace, my story!

A new acquaintance we must scan.

There dwells five versts from Krasnogory,

Vladimir’s property, a man

Who thrives this moment as I write,

A philosophic anchorite:

Zaretski, once a bully bold,

A gambling troop when he controlled,

Chief rascal, pot-house president,

Now of a family the head,

Simple and kindly and unwed,

True friend, landlord benevolent,

Yea! and a man of honour, lo!

How perfect doth our epoch grow!

V

Time was the flattering voice of fame,

His ruffian bravery adored,

And true, his pistol’s faultless aim

An ace at fifteen paces bored.

But I must add to what I write

That, tipsy once in actual fight,

He from his Kalmuck horse did leap

In mud and mire to wallow deep,

Drunk as a fly; and thus the French

A valuable hostage gained,

A modern Regulus unchained,

Who to surrender did not blench

That every morn at Verrey’s cost

Three flasks of wine he might exhaust.

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