他拒绝了她，回到舞会中，与那轻浮女子共舞，轻浮女子的未婚夫趋前，争执在所难免， 未婚夫负气离去， 他轻蔑的笑， 转眼却看到她默默的在圆柱后注视， 他收起笑容， 尴尬， 可是她的眼神中全然没有批评或是怜悯， 只有可怜兮兮的“我爱你”。
此时，她是夏天， 他是冬天。
他拒绝了她，六年后， 再次相遇， 她已为人妻，他仰望她，他乞求她的爱，她挣扎却坚定的: because you're too late. 若非他走后留下的那幅她的素描， 她不必挣扎， 若非她对婚姻的忠贞一如对爱情的执著， 她不会坚定。
此时，她是秋天， 他仍然在冬天。
他是一个贵族，懒懒得抬头， 漠不关心的看世界， 看着她的时候终于看见了自己, 只是太迟了。
她是乡村出身的少女， 生活中撞见了他， 写一封情书， 回信却是六年后， 真的太迟了。
Dearest Onegin,
I write to you. It’s all I can do. And now I know it’s in your power to punish my presuming heart. Yet if you have one drop of pity, you’ll not abandon me to my unhappy fate. I am in love with you and I must tell you this or my heart, my heart which belongs to you will surely break. I’d have never revealed my shame to you, if just once a week I might see you, exchange a word or two, and then think day and night of one thing alone till our next meeting. But you are unsocial they say that the country bore you. Is it true? Does the country bore you? Sometimes I wonder that you ever visited us. Why? I never know you or know this agony and fever. I know that all my life’s been leading me to this union with you. I recognize you at first sight and knew with certainty and say to myself: “it’s him, he’s come.” Help me. Resolve my doubts. Perhaps this is all nonsense, emptiness, a delusion, and quite another fate await me. Imagine it. I’m here alone, half out of my mind. I dread to read this over. My secret longing. I know that I can trust your honor, though I feel faint from shame and fear.
Tatyana
------------------------------------------------------------
Tatyana,
I can foresee the bitter scorn blazing at me from your proud eyes, when you have read my secret sorrow. When we first met, through chance, I saw tenderness, like a shooting star, but did not dare to put my faith to it. Then Lensky fell, which parted us still further. Then I tore my heart away from everything it loved, rootless, estranged from all I thought that liberty and peace would serve, instead of happiness. My god! How wrong I was! How I’ve been punished. No. Day by day to be with you, follow you everywhere, alive to every smile, each movement of your eyes, dwell upon your soul’s perfection, listen to your voice, grow faint with yearning. That is bliss. And I’m cut off from it. My time is short and each day and hour is precious. Yet I just drag myself around in boredom. Every day a desert, unless, when I wake up, I know the day will bring a glimpse of you. If you but knew the flames that burn in me, which I attempt to beat down with my reason. But let it be. I cannot struggle against my feelings anymore. I am entirely in your will.
Onegin
