CHAPTER FIVE

Never know these frightful dreams,

You, O my Svetlana!

Zhukovski

Chapter Five

I

That year autumnal weather

was a long time abroad;

nature kept waiting and waiting for winter.

[4] Snow only fell in January,

on the night of the second. Waking early,

Tatiana from the window saw

at morn the whitened yard,

[8] flower beds, roofs, and fence;

delicate patterns on the panes;

the trees in winter silver,

gay magpies outside,

[12] and the hills mellowly spread over

with the resplendent rug of winter.

All’s brilliant, all is white around.

II

Winter! The peasant, celebrating,

in a flat sledge inaugurates the track;

his naggy, having sensed the snow,

[4] shambles at something like a trot.

Plowing up fluffy furrows,

a fleet kibitka flies:

the driver sits upon his box

[8] in sheepskin coat, red-sashed.

Here runs about a household lad,

a small “pooch” on a hand sled having seated,

having transformed himself into the steed;

[12] the scamp already has frozen a finger.

He finds it both painful and funny—

while mother, from the window, threatens him….

III

But, possibly, of such a kind

pictures will not attract you;

all this is lowly nature;

[4] there is not much refinement here.

Warmed by the god of inspiration,

in a luxurious style another poet

for us has painted the first snow

[8] and all the shades of winter’s delectations.27

He’ll captivate you, I am sure of it,

drawing in flaming verses

secret promenades in sleigh;

[12] but I have no intention of contending

either with him for the time being or with you,

singer of the young Finnish Maid!28

IV

Tatiana (being Russian, in her soul,

herself not knowing why)

with its cold beauty

[4] loved Russian winter:

rime in the sun upon a frosty day,

and sleighs, and, at late dawn,

the radiance of pink snows,

[8] and murk of Twelfthtide eves.

They celebrated in the ancient fashion

those evenings in their house:

the servant girls from the whole stead

[12] told their young ladies’ fortunes

and every year made prophecies to them

of military husbands and the march.

V

Tatiana believed in the lore

of plain-folk ancientry,

dreams, cartomancy,

[4] and the predictions of the moon.

Portents disturbed her:

mysteriously all objects

foretold her something,

[8] presentiments constrained her breast.

The mannered tomcat sitting on the stove,

purring, might wash his muzzlet with his paw:

to her ’twas an indubitable sign

[12] that guests were coming. Seeing all at once

the young two-horned moon’s visage

in the sky on her left,

VI

she trembled and grew pale.

Or when a falling star

along the dark sky flew

[4] and dissipated, then

Tanya would hasten in confusion

while the star still was rolling

her heart’s desire to whisper to it.

[8] When anywhere she happened

a black monk to encounter,

or ’mongst the fields a rapid hare

would run across her path,

[12] so scared she knew not what to undertake,

with sorrowful forebodings filled,

directly she expected some mishap.

VII

And yet—a secret charm she found

even in the terror itself:

thus nature has created us,

[4] being inclined to contradictions.

Yuletide is here. Now that is gladness!

Frivolous youth divines—

who nought has to regret,

[8] in front of whom the faraway of life

lies luminous, unlimited;

old age divines, through spectacles,

at its sepulchral slab,

[12] all having irrecoverably lost;

nor does it matter: hope to them

lies with its childish lisp.

VIII

Tatiana with a curious gaze

looks at the submerged wax:

with a wondrous cast pattern it

[4] proclaims to her a wondrous something.

From a dish full of water

rings come out in succession;

and when her little ring turned up,

[8] ’twas to a ditty of the ancient days:

“There all the countrymen are rich;

they heap up silver by the spadeful!

To those we sing to will come Good

[12] and Glory!” But portends bereavements

the pitiful strain of this dit:

to maidens’ hearts dearer is “Kit.”29

IX

The night is frosty; the whole sky is clear;

the sublime choir of heavenly luminaries

so gently, so unisonally flows….

[4] Tatiana into the wide yard

in low-cut frock comes out;

she trains a mirror on the moon;

but in the dark glass only

[8] the sad moon trembles….

Hark! … the snow creaks … a passer-by; the maiden

flits up to him on tiptoe—

and her little voice sounds

[12] more tender than a reed pipe’s strain:

“What is your name?”30 He looks,

and answers: “Agafón.”

X

On the nurse’s advice, Tatiana,

planning that night to conjure,

has on the quiet ordered in the bathhouse

[4] a table to be laid for two.

But suddenly Tatiana is afraid….

And I—at the thought of Svetlana—

I am afraid; so let it be …

[8] we’re not to conjure with Tatiana.

Her little silken sash Tatiana

has taken off, undressed, and to bed

has gone. Lel hovers over her,

[12] while under her pillow of down

there lies a maiden’s looking glass.

All has grown still. Tatiana sleeps.

XI

And dreams a wondrous dream Tatiana.

She dreams that she

over a snowy plain is walking,

[4] surrounded by sad murk.

Before her, in the snowdrifts,

dins, undulates its wave

a churning, dark, and hoary

[8] torrent, not chained by winter;

two thin poles, glued together by a piece of ice

(a shaky, perilous footbridge),

are laid across the torrent;

[12] and in front of the dinning deep,

full of perplexity,

she stopped.

XII

As at a vexing separation,

Tatiana murmurs at the brook:

sees nobody who might a hand

[4] offer her from the other side.

But suddenly a snowdrift stirred,

and who appeared from under it?

A large bear with a ruffled coat;

[8] Tatiana uttered “Ach!” and he went roaring

and a paw with sharp claws

stretched out to her. Nerving herself,

she leaned on it with trembling hand

[12] and with apprehensive steps

worked her way across the brook;

walked on—and what then? The bear followed her.

XIII

She, to look back not daring,

accelerates her hasty step;

but from the shaggy footman

[4] can in no way escape;

grunting, lumbers the odious bear.

A wood before them; stirless are the pines

in their frowning beauty;

[8] all their boughs are weighed down

by snow in clusters; through the summits

of aspens, birches, lindens bare

the ray of the night luminaries beams;

[12] there is no path; bushes, precipices,

all are o’er-drifted by the blizzard,

plunged deep in snow.

XIV

Tatiana enters wood; bear follows;

up to her knee comes porous snow;

now by the neck a long branch

[4] suddenly catches her, or out of her ears

tears by force their golden pendants;

now in the crumbly snow, off her winsome small foot,

sticks fast a small wet shoe;

[8] now she lets fall her handkerchief—

she has no time to pick it up, is scared,

can hear the bear behind her,

and even, with a tremulous hand,

[12] is shy to raise the border of her dress;

she runs; he keeps behind her;

and then she has no force to run.

XV

Into the snow she’s fallen; the bear deftly

snatches her up and carries her;

she is insensibly submissive;

[4] stirs not, breathes not;

he rushes her along a forest road;

sudden, ’mongst trees, there is a humble hut;

dense woods all round; from every quarter it

[8] is drifted over with desolate snow,

and brightly throws its light a window;

and in the hut there are both cries and noise;

the bear commented: “Here’s my gossip,

[12] do warm yourself a little in his home!”

and straight he goes into the hallway

and on the threshold lays her down.

XVI

Tatiana comes to, looks:

no bear; she’s in a hallway;

behind the door are cries and glass clink

[4] as if at some big funeral.

Perceiving not a drop of sense in this,

she stealthily looks through the chink

—and what then? She sees … at a table

[8] there sit monsters around:

one horned, with a dog’s face,

another with a cock’s head;

here is a witch with a goat’s beard;

[12] here, prim and proud, a skeleton;

yonder, a dwarf with a small tail; and there,

a half crane and half cat.

XVII

Still more frightening, still more wondrous:

there is a crab astride a spider;

there on a goose’s neck a skull

[4] in a red calpack twirls;

there a windmill the squat-jig dances

and with its vane-wings rasps and waves.

Barks, laughs, singing, whistling and claps,

[8] parle of man and stamp of steed!31

But what did Tatiana think

when ’mongst the guests she recognized

him who was dear to her and awesome—

[12] the hero of our novel!

Onegin at the table sits

and through the door furtively gazes.

XVIII

He gives the signal—and all bustle;

he drinks—all drink and all cry out;

he laughs—all burst out laughing;

[4] knits his brows—all are silent;

he is the master there, ’tis plain;

and Tanya is no longer quite so awestruck,

and being curious now

[8] opened the door a little….

Sudden the wind blew, putting out

the light of the nocturnal flambeaux;

the gang of goblins flinched;

[12] Onegin, his eyes sparkling,

rises from table with a clatter;

all have risen; doorward he goes.

XIX

And she’s afraid; and hastily

Tatiana does her utmost to escape:

not possible; impatiently

[4] tossing about, she wants to scream—

cannot; Eugene has pushed the door,

and to the gaze of the infernal specters

the girl appeared; ferocious laughter

[8] wildly broke out; the eyes of all,

hooves, curved proboscises,

tufted tails, tusks,

mustaches, bloody tongues,

[12] horns, and fingers of bone—

all point as one at her,

and everybody cries: “Mine! Mine!”

XX

“Mine!” Eugene fiercely said,

and in a trice the whole gang vanished;

remained in frosty darkness

[4] the youthful maid with him à deux.

Onegin gently draws32

Tatiana in a corner and deposits

her on a shaky bench

[8] and lets his head sink

on her shoulder; abruptly Olga enters,

followed by Lenski; light has gleamed,

Onegin has swung back his lifted arm

[12] and wildly his eyes roam,

and he berates the unbidden guests;

Tatiana lies barely alive.

XXI

The brawl grows louder, louder; suddenly

snatches a long knife, and forthwith Eugene

Lenski is felled; the shadows awesomely

[4] have thickened; an excruciating cry

has broken forth … the cabin lurched …

and Tanya has woke up in terror….

She looks—’tis light already in the room;

[8] in the window through the befrosted pane

there scintillates dawn’s crimson ray;

the door has opened. To her, Olga,

rosier than Northern Aurora

[12] and lighter than a swallow, flits in;

“Well,” she says, “now do tell me,

whom did you see in dream?”

XXII

But she, not noticing her sister,

lies with a book in bed,

turning over page after page,

[4] and says nothing.

Although that book displayed

neither a poet’s sweet conceits,

nor sapient truths, nor pictures,

[8] yet neither Virgil, nor Racine,

nor Scott, nor Byron, nor Seneca,

nor even the Magazine of Ladies’ Fashions

ever engrossed anybody so much:

[12] it was, friends, Martin Zadeck,33

head of Chaldean sages,

divinistre, interpreter of dreams.

XXIII

This profound work

a wandering trader had peddled

one day into their solitude,

[4] and for Tatiana finally,

with a broken set of Malvina, it

he’d ceded for three rubles fifty,

into the bargain taking also for them

[8] a collection of common fables,

a grammar, two “Petriads,”

plus Marmontel, tome three.

Martin Zadeck later became

[12] Tanya’s favorite. He joys

in all her woes awards her,

and sleeps with her inseparably.

XXIV

The dream disturbs her.

Not knowing what to make of it,

the import of the dread chimera

[4] Tatiana wishes to discover.

Tatiana in the brief index

looks up in alphabetic order

the words: forest, storm, raven, fir,

[8] hedgehog, gloom, footbridge, bear, snowstorm,

et cetera. Her doubts

Martin Zadeck will not resolve;

but the ominous dream portends to her

[12] a multitude of sad adventures.

For several days thereafter she

kept worrying about it.

XXV

But lo, with crimson hand34

Aurora from the morning dales

leads forth, with the sun, after her

[4] the merry name-day festival.

Since morn Dame Larin’s house with guests

is filled completely; in whole families

the neighbors have converged, in winter coaches,

[8] kibitkas, britskas, and sleighs.

In vestibule there’s jostling, turmoil;

in drawing room, the meeting of new people,

the bark of pugs, girls’ smacking kisses,

[12] noise, laughter, a crush at the threshold,

the bows, the scraping of the guests,

wet nurses’ shouts, and children’s cry.

XXVI

With his portly spouse

there came fat Pustyakóv;

Gvozdín, an admirable landlord,

[4] owner of destitute muzhiks;

a gray-haired couple, the Skotínins,

with children of all ages, counting

from thirty years to two;

[8] the district fopling, Petushkóv;

Buyánov, my first cousin,

covered with fluff, in a peaked cap35

(as he, of course, is known to you);

[12] and the retired counselor Flyánov,

a heavy scandalmonger, an old rogue,

glutton, bribetaker, and buffoon.

XXVII

With the family of Panfíl Harlikóv

there also came Monsieur Triquet,

a wit, late from Tambov,

[4] bespectacled and russet-wigged.

As a true Frenchman, in his pocket

Triquet has brought a stanza for Tatiana

fitting an air to children known:

[8] “Réveillez-vous, belle endormie.”

’Mongst the time-worn songs of an almanac

this stanza had been printed;

Triquet—resourceful poet—

[12] out of the dust brought it to light

and boldly in the place of “belle Niná”

put “belle Tatianá.”

XXVIII

And now from the near borough,

idol of ripened misses,

joyance of district mothers,

[4] a Company Commander has arrived;

has entered…. Ah, news—and what news!

there will be regimental music:

“the Colonel himself has sent it.”

[8] What glee! There is to be a ball!

The young things skip beforehand.36

But dinner’s served. In pairs,

they go to table, arm in arm.

[12] The misses cluster near Tatiana;

the men face her; and, as all cross themselves,

the crowd buzzes, to table sitting down.

XXIX

Talks for a moment have subsided;

mouths chew. Upon all sides

the plates and covers clatter

[4] and there resounds the clink of glasses.

But soon the guests gradually

raise a general hullabaloo.

None listens; they cry out,

[8] laugh, dispute, and squeal.

The door leaves suddenly fly open: Lenski enters,

and with him Onegin. “Oh, my Maker!”

cries out the lady of the house. “At last!”

[12] The guests make room, each shifts

covers, chairs quick;

they call, they seat the pair of friends

XXX

—seat them directly facing Tanya,

and paler than the morning moon,

and more aquiver than the hunted doe,

[4] she darkening eyes

does not raise. Stormily there breathes

in her a passionate glow; she suffocates, feels faint;

the two friends’ greetings she

[8] does not hear; the tears from her eyes

are on the point of trickling; she is on the point,

poor thing, of swooning;

but will and reason’s power

[12] prevailed. A word or two

she uttered through her teeth in a low voice

and managed to remain at table.

XXXI

Tragiconervous scenes,

the fainting fits of maidens, tears,

long since Eugene could not abide:

[4] enough of them he had endured.

The odd chap, on finding himself at a huge feast,

was cross already. But the dolent girl’s

quivering impulse having noticed,

[8] out of vexation lowering his gaze,

he went into a huff and, fuming,

swore he would enrage Lenski,

and thoroughly, in fact, avenge himself.

[12] Now, triumphing beforehand,

he inwardly began to sketch

caricatures of all the guests.

XXXII

Of course, not only Eugene

Tanya’s confusion might have seen;

but the target of looks and comments

[4] was at the time a rich pie

(unfortunately, oversalted);

and here, in bottle sealed with pitch,

between meat course and blancmangér,

[8] Tsimlyanski wine is brought already,

followed by an array of glasses, narrow, long,

similar to your waist,

Zizi, the crystal of my soul,

[12] the subject of my innocent verse,

enluring vial of love,

you, of whom drunk I used to be!

XXXIII

Having got rid of its damp cork,

the bottle popped; the wine

fizzes; and now with an important mien,

[4] long since tormented by his stanza,

Triquet stands up; before him the assembly

maintains deep silence.

Tatiana’s scarce alive; Triquet,

[8] addressing her, a slip of paper in his hand,

proceeds to sing, off key. Claps, acclamations,

salute him. She

must drop the bard a curtsy;

[12] whereat the poet, modest although great,

is first to drink her health

and hands to her the stanza.

XXXIV

Greetings, congratulations follow;

Tatiana thanks everybody.

Then, when the turn of Eugene

[4] arrived, the maiden’s dolorous air,

her embarrassment, lassitude,

engendered pity in his soul:

he bowed to her in silence,

[8] but somehow the look of his eyes

was wondrous tender. Whether

because he verily was touched

or he was being mischievous, coquetting,

[12] whether unwillfully or by free will,

but tenderness that look expressed:

it revived Tanya’s heart.

XXXV

The chairs, as they are pushed back, clatter;

the crowd presses into the drawing room:

thus bees out of the luscious hive

[4] fly meadward in a noisy swarm.

Pleased with the festive dinner,

neighbor in front of neighbor wheezes;

the ladies by the hearth have settled;

[8] the maidens whisper in a corner;

the green-baized tables are unfolded:

to mettlesome cardplayers call

boston and omber of the old,

[12] and whist, up to the present famous:

monotonous family,

all sons of avid boredom.

XXXVI

Eight rubbers have already played

whist’s heroes; eight times they

have changed their seats—

[4] and tea is brought. I like the hour

to fix by dinner, tea,

and supper. We know time

in the country without great fuss:

[8] the stomach is our accurate Bréguet;

and, apropos, I’ll parenthetically note

that in my strophes I discourse

as frequently on feasts,

[12] on various dishes and corks,

as you, divine Homer,

you, the idol of thirty centuries!

XXXVII, XXXVIII

image

XXXIX

But tea is brought: the damsels primly

have scarcely taken hold of their saucers

than sudden from behind the door of the long hall

[4] bassoon and flute resound.

By music’s thunder gladdened,

leaving his cup of tea with rum,

the Paris of surrounding townlets,

[8] Petushkov goes up to Olga,

Lenski, to Tatiana; Miss Harlikov,

a marriageable maid of overripe years

is secured by my Tambovan poet;

[12] Buyanov has whirled off Dame Pustyakov;

and all have spilled into the hall,

and in full glory the ball glitters.

XL

At the beginning of my novel

(see the first fascicle)

I wanted in Albano’s manner

[4] a Petersburg ball to describe;

but, by an empty reverie diverted,

I got engrossed in recollecting

the little feet of ladies known to me.

[8] Upon your narrow little tracks,

O little feet, enough roving astray!

With the betrayal of my youth

’tis time I grew more sensible,

[12] improved in doings and in diction,

and this fifth fascicle

cleansed from digressions.

XLI

Monotonous and mad

like young life’s whirl,

the waltz’s noisy whirl revolves,

[4] pair after pair flicks by.

Nearing the minute of revenge,

Onegin, chuckling secretly,

goes up to Olga, rapidly with her

[8] twirls near the guests,

then seats her on a chair,

proceeds to speak of this and that;

a minute or two having lapsed, then

[12] again with her he goes on waltzing;

all in amazement are. Lenski himself

does not believe his proper eyes.

XLII

The mazurka has resounded. Time was,

when the mazurka’s thunder crashed,

in a huge ballroom everything vibrated,

[4] the parquetry cracked under heel,

the window frames shook, rattled;

now ’tis not thus : we, too, like ladies,

glide o’er the lacquered boards.

[8] But in [small] towns, in country places,

still the mazurka has retained

its pristine charms:

saltos, heel-play, mustachios

[12] remain the same; them has not altered

highhanded fashion, our tyrant

the sickness of the latest Russians.

XLIII

image

XLIV

Buyanov, my mettlesome cousin,

has to our hero led

Tatiana with Olga; deft

[4] Onegin with Olga has gone.

He steers her, gliding nonchalantly,

and, bending, whispers tenderly to her

some banal madrigal,

[8] and her hand presses, and has flamed

in her conceited face

brighter the rose. My Lenski

has seen it all; flared up, beside himself;

[12] in jealous indignation,

the poet waits for the end of the mazurka

and invites her for the cotillion.

XLV

But no, she cannot. Cannot? But what is it?

Why, Olga has given her word already

to Onegin. Ah, good God, good God!

[4] What does he hear? She could …

How is it possible? Scarce out of swaddling clothes—

and a coquette, a giddy child!

Already she is versed in guile,

[8] already to be faithless has been taught!

Lenski has not the strength to bear the blow;

cursing the pranks of women,

he leaves, demands a horse,

[12] and gallops off. A brace of pistols,

two bullets—nothing else—

shall in a trice decide his fate.