III

3 0 00

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.”