XLIV

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XLIV

She fears she cannot.⁠—Cannot? Why?⁠—

She promised Eugene, or she would

With great delight.⁠—O God on high!

Heard he the truth? And thus she could⁠—

And can it be? But late a child

And now a fickle flirt and wild,

Cunning already to display

And well-instructed to betray!

Lenski the stroke could not sustain,

At womankind he growled a curse,

Departed, ordered out his horse

And galloped home. But pistols twain,

A pair of bullets⁠—nought beside⁠—

His fate shall presently decide.