Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

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Chapter Eight

Yet he's not going. He beforehand is ready to his forefathers to write of an impending meeting; yet Tatiana 4 cares not one bit (such is their sex). But he is stubborn, won't desist, still hopes, bestirs himself $ a sick man bolder than one hale, 8 he with a weak hand to the princess writes an impassioned missive. Though generally little sense in letters he saw, not without reason; 12 but evidently torment of the heart had now passed his endurance. Here you have his letter word for word.

I foresee everything: the explanation of a sad secret will offend you. What bitter scorn 4 your proud glance will express! What do I want? What is my object in opening my soul to you? What wicked merriment 8 perhaps I give occasion to! Chancing to meet you once, noting in you a spark of tenderness, I did not venture to believe in it: 12 did not give way to a sweet habit $ my tedious freedom