Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

XXXIII

There is no answer. He sends a new missive. To the second, to the third letter- there is no answer. He drives out to some 4 reception. Hardly has he entered-there she is coming in his direction. How severe! He is not seen, to him no word is said. Ugh! How surrounded she is now 8 with Twelfthtide cold! How anxious are to hold back indignation her stubborn lips! Onegin peers with a keen eye: i ? where, where are discomposure, sympathy, where the tearstains? None, none! There's on that face but the imprint of wrath…

plus, possibly, a secret fear lest husband or monde guess the escapade, the casual foible, 4 all my Onegin knows… There is no hope! He drives away, curses his folly- and, deeply plunged in it, 8 the monde he once again renounces and in his silent study comes to him the recollection of the time when cruel chondria 12 pursued him in the noisy monde, captured him, took him by the collar, and shut him up in a dark hole. po