Unlucky Larina was going (To waste the money was afraid)
Not by the post-chaise, by jade, And my Tatyana was enjoying
Enough the boredom on the ways: The journey took them seven days.
XXXVI
In front of them when they were near White-stone Moscow they saw:
Like heat are shining crosses dear; They guilded cupolas adore.
Ah, brethren! pleased I was then greatly When many curches, each with belfry,
The gardens, chambers before me I could at once all gathered see!
Each day in grief of separation By fickle fate, too far from you
You, Moscow, I thought of you!
My Moscow... in this lunation
For Russian heart too much is fused And echoed in it through muse!
XXXVII
They see encircled by its grove Petrovsky castle.
It in strain
With pride for recent fame can glow: Napoleon waited but in vain
(Still previous happiness was feeling) To see my Moscow just kneeling
Of old Kremlin keys to give; But didn’t come at all to him
My Moscow with guilty feeling; Yet neither feast and nor a gift
She had in hand: by fire heat That hero she was meeting.
From here, deeply lost in thought, He looked at threatening flame he got.
XXXVIII
Good-bye, the witness of past glory, Petrovsky castle.
Go on!
Of turnpike pillars white and florid Are seen... Tverskaya gets along...
Across the pits the sleigh is speeding, Is passing by the stalls, the women,
The lanterns, children, many shops, A palace, gardens, cloisters, flocks
Of Buchars, sledges, kitchen-gardens, The merchants, peasants arid the huts,
The boulevards, cossacks and the butts, Drug-stores and towers, the garments,
The balconies; with lions gate, While on the crosses jackdaws reign.
XXXIX, XL
To tiresome this drive, all failing, An hour or two they gave;
At Kharitonya’s in the alley In front of house at the gate
The sleigh has stopped; to auntie old, Consumptive now, to behold
Her own house they have come; The door wide open was done
By greyish Kalmyk: wears glasses And torn a coat, socks in hands;
At inner room a cry just bangs: Princess is ill in bed, but fusses.
In tears women have embraced And exclamations have been raised.
XLI
- Princess, mon ange! -
‘Pachette!’- Alina! {27}
‘Who might be thinking... all the time!
For how long?
My cousin dear, Sit down... complex is the life!
My God, a scene from novels dear...’ -And that’s my daughter...
Tanya, near!
‘Ah, Tanya!
Dear! come to rue… As in a dream it seems to be...
D’you, Grandison in mind yet keeping?’
What Grandison? Ah, Grandison!