XXX

4 0 00

XXX

Right opposite Tattiana placed,

She, than the morning moon more pale,

More timid than a doe long chased,

Lifts not her eyes which swimming fail.

Anew the flames of passion start

Within her; she is sick at heart;

The two friends’ compliments she hears

Not, and a flood of bitter tears

With effort she restrains. Well nigh

The poor girl fell into a faint,

But strength of mind and self-restraint

Prevailed at last. She in reply

Said something in an undertone

And at the table sat her down.