“For me, Onyéghin, all this wealth,
This showy tinsel of Court life,
All my successes in the world,
My well-appointed house and balls ...
For me are nought!—I gladly would
Give up these rags, this masquerade,
And all the brilliancy and din,
For a small shelf of books, a garden wild,
Our weather-beaten house so poor—
Those very places where I met