III
Whilst homeward by the nearest route
Our heroes at full gallop sped,
Can we not stealthily make out
What they in conversation said?—
“How now, Onegin, yawning still?”—
“ ’Tis habit, Lenski.”—“Is your ill
More troublesome than usual?”—“No!
How dark the night is getting though!
Hallo, Andriushka, onward race!
The drive becomes monotonous—
Well! Làrina appears to us
An ancient lady full of grace.—
That bilberry wine, I’m sore afraid,
The deuce with my inside has played.”