At eighteen not to play the fool!

Sincerely loving him, Eugene

Assuredly should not have been

Conventionality's dull tool—

Not a mere hot, pugnacious boy,

But man of sense and probity.

XI

He might his motives have narrated,

Not bristled up like a wild beast,

He ought to have conciliated

That youthful heart—"But, now at least,

The opportunity is flown.

Besides, a duellist well-known

Hath mixed himself in the affair,

Malicious and a slanderer.

Undoubtedly, disdain alone

Should recompense his idle jeers,

But fools—their calumnies and sneers"—

Behold! the world's opinion!(63)

Our idol, Honour's motive force,

Round which revolves the universe.

[Note 63: A line of Griboyedoff's. (Woe from Wit.)]

XII

Impatient, boiling o'er with wrath,

The bard his answer waits at home,

But lo! his braggart neighbour hath

Triumphant with the answer come.

Now for the jealous youth what joy!

He feared the criminal might try

To treat the matter as a jest,

Use subterfuge, and thus his breast

From the dread pistol turn away.

But now all doubt was set aside,

Unto the windmill he must ride

To-morrow before break of day,

To cock the pistol; barrel bend

On thigh or temple, friend on friend.

XIII

Resolved the flirt to cast away,

The foaming Lenski would refuse,

To see his Olga ere the fray—

His watch, the sun in turn he views—

Finally tost his arms in air

And lo! he is already there!

He deemed his coming would inspire

Olga with trepidation dire.

He was deceived. Just as before

The miserable bard to meet,

As hope uncertain and as sweet,

Olga ran skipping from the door.

She was as heedless and as gay—

Well! just as she was yesterday.

XIV

"Why did you leave last night so soon?"

Was the first question Olga made,

Lenski, into confusion thrown,

All silently hung down his head.

Jealousy and vexation took

To flight before her radiant look,

Before such fond simplicity

And mental elasticity.

He eyed her with a fond concern,

Perceived that he was still beloved,

Already by repentance moved

To ask forgiveness seemed to yearn;

But trembles, words he cannot find,

Delighted, almost sane in mind.

XV

But once more pensive and distressed

Beside his Olga doth he grieve,

Nor enough strength of mind possessed

To mention the foregoing eve,

He mused: "I will her saviour be!

With ardent sighs and flattery

The vile seducer shall not dare

The freshness of her heart impair,

Nor shall the caterpillar come

The lily's stem to eat away,

Nor shall the bud of yesterday

Perish when half disclosed its bloom!"—

All this, my friends, translate aright:

"I with my friend intend to fight!"

XVI

If he had only known the wound

Which rankled in Tattiana's breast,

And if Tattiana mine had found—

If the poor maiden could have guessed

That the two friends with morning's light

Above the yawning grave would fight,—

Ah! it may be, affection true

Had reconciled the pair anew!

But of this love, e'en casually,

As yet none had discovered aught;

Eugene of course related nought,

Tattiana suffered secretly;

Her nurse, who could have made a guess,

Was famous for thick-headedness.

XVII

Lenski that eve in thought immersed,

Now gloomy seemed and cheerful now,

But he who by the Muse was nursed

Is ever thus. With frowning brow

To the pianoforte he moves

And various chords upon it proves,

Then, eyeing Olga, whispers low:

"I'm happy, say, is it not so?"—

But it grew late; he must not stay;

Heavy his heart with anguish grew;

To the young girl he said adieu,

As it were, tore himself away.

Gazing into his face, she said: