The social ritual never changes:
The hostess artfully arranges
On little dishes her preserves,
And on her covered table serves
A drink of lingonberry flavour.
With folded arms, along the hall,
The maids have gathered, one and all,
To glimpse the Larins' brand new neighbour;
While in the yard their men reproach
Onegin's taste in horse and coach.*
4
Now home's our heroes' destination,
As down the shortest road they fly;
Let's listen to their conversation
And use a furtive ear to spy.
'Why all these yawns, Onegin? Really!'
'Mere habit, Lensky.''But you're clearly
More bored than usual.''No, the same.
The fields are dark now, what a shame.
Come on, Andryushka, faster, matey!
These stupid woods and fields and streams!
Oh, by the way, Dame Larin seems
A simple but a nice old lady;
I fear that lingonberry brew
May do me in before it's through.'
5
'But tell me, which one was Tatyana?'
'Why, she who with a wistful air
All sad and silent like Svetlana*
Came in and took the window chair.'
'And really you prefer the other?'
'Why not?''Were I the poet, brother,
I'd choose the elder one instead
Your Olga's look is cold and dead,
As in some dull, Van Dyck madonna;
So round and fair of face is she,
She's like that stupid moon you see,
Up in that stupid sky you honour.'
Vladimir gave a curt reply
And let the conversation die.
6
Meanwhile . . . Onegin's presentation
At Madame Larin's country seat
Produced at large a great sensation
And gave the neighbours quite a treat.
They all began to gossip slyly,
To joke and comment (rather wryly);
And soon the general verdict ran,
That Tanya'd finally found a man;
