Eugene Onegin Part 19

18.

He gives a sign a they spring to action, He drinks a they shout and drink a round.

He laughs a they roar with satisfaction, He knits his brow a there's not a sound.

It's obvious that he's the master: And Tanya no more fears disaster, And curious to find out more She opens gingerly the door...

A sudden gust of wind blows, lashing The flaming lamps that light the night; The goblins cower at the sight; Onegin, from his chair, eyes flashing, Rises with clatter; they all rise: And swiftly to the door he flies.

19.

A terrified Tatiana hastens To flee Onegin and his team; Not possible; and, in impatience, She scurries round and wants to scream, But Eugene pulls the door wide open And she's exposed to the misshapen And h.e.l.lish spectres; savage cries Of laughter resonate; their eyes, Their curved proboscises, moustaches, Their hooves, horns, tusks and tufted tails, Their bony fingers, sharp like nails, Their b.l.o.o.d.y tongues a all these mismatches At once towards the girl incline And all cry out: 'She's mine! She's mine!

20.

'She's mine,' Onegin spoke out grimly, And suddenly the pack was gone; In frosty darkness Tanya dimly Confronted Eugene all alone.

Towards a corner seat he takes her, Upon a shaky bench he lays her And, bending downward, rests his head Upon her shoulder; when a tread Discloses Olga, then Vladimir; A sudden light, and in alarm Onegin stands with upraised arm, His eyes roam wildly seeing him here, He chides the uninvited pair; Tatiana's lying in despair.

21.

The argument grows louder quickly, Onegin s.n.a.t.c.hes up a knife, Frightening shadows gather thickly, Onegin's taken Lensky's life.

A piercing cry, the hut is shaking, Tatiana, terror-stricken, waking, Looks round her room, already bright, As through a frozen pane the light Of crimson dawn's already playing; The door stirs. Olga flies to her, Aurora-like but rosier, And lighter than a swallow, saying: 'What did you dream, whom did you see?

Oh, Tanya, tell, who can it be?'

22.

But she, not noticing her sister, Lay leafing through a book in bed; Page after page kept turning faster, And to her sister nothing said.

The book that claimed her rapt attention Wanted the poet's sweet invention, No saws or pictures could be seen, But neither Virgil nor Racine, Not Seneca, not Scott, not Byron, Not even Ladies' Fashion12 could Engross so much a woman's mood: What now enticed her like a siren Was Martin Zadek,13 Chaldee sage, Who solved your dreams on every page.

23.

This weighty tome a pa.s.sing trader Had brought to Tanya's solitude, And finally managed to persuade her To buy it, if he could include A few odd volumes of Malvina;14 She paid three rubles, one poltina, He also put into the scales A book containing vulgar tales, Two Petriads,15 a Russian grammar And volume three of Marmontel.16 Once Martin Zadek casts his spell, Tanya surrenders to his glamour...

He brings her solace when she grieves, He sleeps with her and never leaves.

24.

The dream disturbs her. In confusion, Not knowing what it presages, She seeks a meaningful solution To all its monstrous images.

Arranged in alphabetic order, The index gives the words that awed her: A bear, a blizzard, little bridge, Dark, fir, a forest, hedgehog, witch And so on. Tanya's reservations A Martin Zadek won't dispel, And yet her nightmare does foretell A mult.i.tude of sad occasions.

For several days thereafter she Keeps thinking of it anxiously.

25.

But lo, her crimson hand extending,17 Daybreak, from valleys large and small, Leads forth the folk who'll be attending A merry nameday festival.

From morn the Larin home's abounding With neighbours from estates surrounding; Whole families have made their way On britska,18 coach, kibitka, sleigh.

There's jostling as the hall is filling, In the salon new faces, hugs, Girls' smacking kisses, barking pugs, Noise, laughter, crush as more folk spill in, Guests make their bows and shuffle by, Wet-nurses shout and children cry.

26.

Together with a spouse well nourished, There entered portly Pustyakov;19 Gvozdin, a splendid lord who flourished On peasant farmers badly off; Then the Skotinins, grey-haired, prospering With their innumerable offspring From thirty-odd right down to two; And Petushkov, our fop, came, too; Then my first cousin, one Buyanov, In pointed cap and cloaked with fluff (But you must know him well enough); And councillor-in-retirement, Flyanov, A scandalmonger, seasoned cheat, And bribe-taker who loved to eat.

27.

The family of Kharlikov20 had Monsieur Triquet within its fold; A noted wit, late from Tambov, clad In reddish wig, bespectacled.

Triquet, in truly Gallic manner, Had brought a stanza for Tatiana, Set to a children's melody: Reveillez-vous, belle endormie.21 This stanza saw its publication In a decrepit almanac; Triquet, a poet with a knack, Redeemed it from disintegration, And in the place of belle Nina He boldly put belle Tatiana.

28.

And now from an adjacent quarter A company commander came, The idol of each ripened daughter And district mothers, all aflame.

He entered... ah now, what's he saying?

The regimental band is playing, The colonel has arranged it all, What fun! There is to be a ball!

The young things skip, antic.i.p.ating; But dinner being served brings calm, All go to table, arm in arm, The grown-up girls near Tanya waiting, The men en face; a buzz goes round; All cross themselves as seats are found.

29.

A sudden ceasing of the chatter; Mouths chew; and, meanwhile, all about, Crockery, plates and covers clatter And clinking wine-gla.s.ses ring out.

But soon the guests by small gradations Revive their deafening conversations.

They shout, laugh, argue through the meal, n.o.body listens, ladies squeal.

The doors fly open, Lensky enters, With him Onegin. 'Lord, at last!'

Cries out Dame Larina, and fast The guests make room, as each one ventures To move a cover or a chair; They seat the two young friends with care.

30.

They sit right opposite Tatiana; She, paler than the moon at morn, More agitated in her manner Than hunted doe, stays looking down With darkening eyes; a glow pervades her, A surge of pa.s.sion suffocates her; She does not hear from our two friends The salutation each extends; About to cry, poor thing, she's ready To fall into a swoon or faint; But will and reason bring restraint; Clenching her teeth, remaining steady, She quietly utters just a word And from the table has not stirred.