XXVIII

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XXVIII

“Advance!”⁠—

Indifferent and sedate,

The foes, as yet not taking aim,

With measured step and even gait

Athwart the snow four paces came⁠—

Four deadly paces do they span;

Onegin slowly then began

To raise his pistol to his eye,

Though he advanced unceasingly.

And lo! five paces more they pass,

And Lenski, closing his left eye,

Took aim⁠—but as immediately

Onegin fired⁠—Alas! alas!

The poet’s hour hath sounded⁠—See!

He drops his pistol silently.