[Note 59: The Donskoe Champanskoe is a species of sparkling wine manufactured in the vicinity of the river Don.]

XXXIII.

From the moist cork the bottle freed

With loud explosion, the bright wine

Hissed forth. With serious air indeed,

Long tortured by his lay divine,

Triquet arose, and for the bard

The company deep silence guard.

Tania well nigh expired when he

Turned to her and discordantly

Intoned it, manuscript in hand.

Voices and hands applaud, and she

Must bow in common courtesy;

The poet, modest though so grand,

Drank to her health in the first place,

Then handed her the song with grace.

XXXIV.

Congratulations, toasts resound,

Tattiana thanks to all returned,

But, when Oneguine's turn came round,

The maiden's weary eye which yearned,

Her agitation and distress

Aroused in him some tenderness.

He bowed to her nor silence broke,

But somehow there shone in his look

The witching light of sympathy;

I know not if his heart felt pain

Or if he meant to flirt again,

From habit or maliciously,

But kindness from his eye had beamed

And to revive Tattiana seemed.

XXXV.

The chairs are thrust back with a roar,

The crowd unto the drawing-room speeds,

As bees who leave their dainty store

And seek in buzzing swarms the meads.