25
For one may be a man of reason
And mind the beauty of his nails.
Why argue vainly with the season?
For custom's rule o'er man prevails.
Now my Eugene, Chadyev's* double,
From jealous critics fearing trouble,
Was quite the pedant in his dress
And what we called a fop, no less.
At least three hours he peruses
His figure in the looking-glass;
Then through his dressing room he'll pass
Like flighty Venus when she chooses
In man's attire to pay a call
At masquerade or midnight ball.
26
Your interest piqued and doubtless growing
In current fashions of
I might describe in terms more knowing
His clothing for the learned set.
This might well seem an indiscretion,
Description, though, is my profession;
But
These words are hardly Russian stock;
And I confess (in public sorrow)
That as it is my diction groans
With far too many foreign loans;
But if indeed I overborrow,
I have of old relied upon
Our
27
But let's abandon idle chatter
And hasten rather to forestall
Our hero's headlong, dashing clatter
In hired coach towards the ball.
Before the fronts of darkened houses,
Along a street that gently drowses,
The double carriage lamps in rows
Pour forth their warm and cheerful glows
And on the snow make rainbows glitter.
One splendid house is all alight,
Its countless lampions burning bright;
While past its glassed-in windows flitter
In quick succession silhouettes
Of ladies and their modish pets.
28
But look, Onegin's at the gateway;
He's past the porter, up the stair,
Through marble entry rushes straightway,
Then runs his fingers through his hair,
