She starts, nor doth a word express,

But gazes on Oneguine's face

Without amaze or wrath displayed:

His sunken eye and aspect faint,

Imploring looks and mute complaint

She comprehends. The simple maid

By fond illusions once possest

Is once again made manifest.

XLI.

His kneeling posture he retains -

Calmly her eyes encounter his -

Insensible her hand remains

Beneath his lips' devouring kiss.

What visions then her fancy thronged -

A breathless silence then, prolonged -

But finally she softly said:

"Enough, arise! for much we need

Without disguise ourselves explain.

Oneguine, hast forgotten yet

The hour when - Fate so willed - we met

In the lone garden and the lane?

How meekly then I heard you preach -

To-day it is my turn to teach.

XLII.

"Oneguine, I was younger then,

And better, if I judge aright;

I loved you - what did I obtain?

Affection how did you requite?

But with austerity! - for you

No novelty - is it not true? -

Was the meek love a maiden feels.

But now - my very blood congeals,

Calling to mind your icy look

And sermon - but in that dread hour