It was a cheery, generous Cartel, or challenge to a fight, Whereto in language courteous Lenski his comrade did invite. Onéguine, by first impulse moved, Turned and replied as it behoved, Curtly announcing for the fray That he was “ready any day.” Zaretski rose, nor would explain, He cared no longer there to stay, Had much to do at home that day, And so departed. But Eugene, The matter by his conscience tried, Was with himself dissatisfied. X In fact, the subject analysed, Within that secret court discussed, In much his conduct stigmatized; For, from the outset, ’twas unjust To jest as he had done last eve, A timid, shrinking love to grieve. And ought he not to disregard The poet’s madness? for ’tis hard At eighteen not to play the fool! Sincerely loving him, Eugene Assuredly should not have been Conventionality’s dull tool— Not a mere hot, pugnacious boy, But man of sense and probity. XI He might his motives have narrated, Not bristled up like a wild beast, He ought to have conciliated That youthful heart—“But, now at least, The opportunity is flown. Besides, a duellist well-known Hath mixed himself in the affair, Malicious and a slanderer. Undoubtedly, disdain alone Should recompense his idle jeers, But fools—their calumnies and sneers”— Behold! the world’s opinion!(63) Our idol, Honour’s motive force, Round which revolves the universe. [Note 63: A line of Griboyédoff’s. (Woe from Wit.)] XII Impatient, boiling o’er with wrath, The bard his answer waits at home, But lo! his braggart neighbour hath Triumphant with the answer come. Now for the jealous youth what joy! He feared the criminal might try To treat the matter as a jest, Use subterfuge, and thus his breast From the dread pistol turn away. But now all doubt was set aside, Unto the windmill he must ride To-morrow before break of day, To cock the pistol; barrel bend On thigh or temple, friend on friend. XIII Resolved the flirt to cast away, The foaming Lenski would refuse, To see his Olga ere the fray— His watch, the sun in turn he views— Finally tost his arms in air And lo! he is already there! He deemed his coming would inspire Olga with trepidation dire. He was deceived. Just as before The miserable bard to meet, As hope uncertain and as sweet, Olga ran skipping from the door. She was as heedless and as gay— Well! just as she was yesterday. XIV