Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

2J2
Chapter Seven
XXIV

And my Tatiana by degrees begins to understand more clearly now-thank God- 4 him for whom by imperious fate she is sentenced to sigh. A sad and dangerous eccentric, creature of hell or heaven, 8 this angel, this proud fiend, what, then, is he? Can it be, he's an imitation, an insignificant phantasm, or else a Muscovite in Harold's mantle, 12, a glossary of alien vagaries, a complete lexicon of words in vogue?… Might he not be, in fact, a parody?