Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

XXI

He leaves the close-packed rout, he drives home, pensive; by a fancy now sad, now charming, 4 his first sleep is disturbed. He wakes; is brought a letter: Prince N. begs the honor of his presence at a soiree. Good God-to her? 8 I will, I will! And rapidly a courteous reply he scrawls. What is the matter with him? In what strange daze is he?

What has stirred at the bottom of that cold 12 and sluggish soul? Vexation? Vanity? Or once again youth's worry-love?

Eugene Onegin