Eugene Oneguine [Onegin] Part 19

But now all doubt was set aside, Unto the windmill he must ride To-morrow before break of day, To c.o.c.k 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: "What ails thee?"--"Nothing."--He is fled.

XVIII

At home arriving he addressed His care unto his pistols' plight, Replaced them in their box, undressed And Schiller read by candlelight.

But one thought only filled his mind, His mournful heart no peace could find, Olga he sees before his eyes Miraculously fair arise, Vladimir closes up his book, And grasps a pen: his verse, albeit With lovers' rubbish filled, was neat And flowed harmoniously. He took And spouted it with lyric fire-- Like D[elvig] when dinner doth inspire.

XIX

Destiny hath preserved his lay.

I have it. Lo! the very thing!

"Oh! whither have ye winged your way, Ye golden days of my young spring?

What will the coming dawn reveal?

In vain my anxious eyes appeal; In mist profound all yet is hid.

So be it! Just the laws which bid The fatal bullet penetrate, Or innocently past me fly.

Good governs all! The hour draws nigh Of life or death predestinate.

Blest be the labours of the light, And blest the shadows of the night.

XX

"To-morrow's dawn will glimmer gray, Bright day will then begin to burn, But the dark sepulchre I may Have entered never to return.

The memory of the bard, a dream, Will be absorbed by Lethe's stream; Men will forget me, but my urn To visit, lovely maid, return, O'er my remains to drop a tear, And think: here lies who loved me well, For consecrate to me he fell In the dawn of existence drear.

Maid whom my heart desires alone, Approach, approach; I am thine own."

XXI

Thus in a style _obscure_ and _stale_,(64) He wrote ('tis the romantic style, Though of romance therein I fail To see aught--never mind meanwhile) And about dawn upon his breast His weary head declined at rest, For o'er a word to fashion known, "Ideal," he had drowsy grown.

But scarce had sleep's soft witchery Subdued him, when his neighbour stept Into the chamber where he slept And wakened him with the loud cry: "'Tis time to get up! Seven doth strike.

Oneguine waits on us, 'tis like."

[Note 64: The fact of the above words being italicised suggests the idea that the poet is here firing a Parthian shot at some unfriendly critic.]

XXII

He was in error; for Eugene Was sleeping then a sleep like death; The pall of night was growing thin, To Lucifer the c.o.c.k must breathe His song, when still he slumbered deep, The sun had mounted high his steep, A pa.s.sing snowstorm wreathed away With pallid light, but Eugene lay Upon his couch insensibly; Slumber still o'er him lingering flies.

But finally he oped his eyes And turned aside the drapery; He gazed upon the clock which showed He long should have been on the road.

XXIII

He rings in haste; in haste arrives His Frenchman, good Monsieur Guillot, Who dressing-gown and slippers gives And linen on him doth bestow.

Dressing as quickly as he can, Eugene directs the trusty man To accompany him and to escort A box of terrible import.

Harnessed the rapid sledge arrived: He enters: to the mill he drives: Descends, the order Guillot gives, The fatal tubes Lepage contrived(65) To bring behind: the triple steeds To two young oaks the coachman leads.

[Note 65: Lepage--a celebrated gunmaker of former days.]

XXIV

Lenski the foeman's apparition Leaning against the dam expects, Zaretski, village mechanician, In the meantime the mill inspects.

Oneguine his excuses says; "But," cried Zaretski in amaze, "Your second you have left behind!"

A duellist of cla.s.sic mind, Method was dear unto his heart He would not that a man ye slay In a lax or informal way, But followed the strict rules of art, And ancient usages observed (For which our praise he hath deserved).

XXV

"My second!" cried in turn Eugene, "Behold my friend Monsieur Guillot; To this arrangement can be seen, No obstacle of which I know.

Although unknown to fame mayhap, He's a straightforward little chap."

Zaretski bit his lip in wrath, But to Vladimir Eugene saith: "Shall we commence?"--"Let it be so,"

Lenski replied, and soon they be Behind the mill. Meantime ye see Zaretski and Monsieur Guillot In consultation stand aside-- The foes with downcast eyes abide.

XXVI

Foes! Is it long since friendship rent Asunder was and hate prepared?

Since leisure was together spent, Meals, secrets, occupations shared?

Now, like hereditary foes, Malignant fury they disclose, As in some frenzied dream of fear These friends cold-bloodedly draw near Mutual destruction to contrive.

Cannot they amicably smile Ere crimson stains their hands defile, Depart in peace and friendly live?

But fashionable hatred's flame Trembles at artificial shame.

XXVII

The shining pistols are uncased, The mallet loud the ramrod strikes, Bullets are down the barrels pressed, For the first time the hammer clicks.

Lo! poured in a thin gray cascade, The powder in the pan is laid, The sharp flint, screwed securely on, Is c.o.c.ked once more. Uneasy grown, Guillot behind a pollard stood; Aside the foes their mantles threw, Zaretski paces thirty-two Measured with great exact.i.tude.

At each extreme one takes his stand, A loaded pistol in his hand.