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Pushkin's The Queen of Spades French connoisseurs know Pushkin's The Queen of Spades in Mérimée's translation. It might appear impertinent to provide a new version now, and I really do not doubt that the sooner one can look more elegant than that one, without any merit apart from its scrupulous exactness. That's its justification. A preoccupation with rounding and explaining off induced Mérimée to blunt relatively the crystalline peaks of the tale. We've resisted adding anything to Pushkin's clean and spare style, using its slender grace, which hums such as a taut string. When Pushkin writes: Herman quivered just like a tiger, Mérimée adds:. lying in wait around. When he offers Lisaveta bend over a created book, Mériméelectronic says gracefully. This charming article writer marks his own way, and if some criticize his dryness it really is clear right here that the criticism is definitely ill-founded, or, at least, that only in comparison with the lush design of the authors of his period can Mérimée's design appear therefore unadorned to us. The clearness of Pushkin, however, chafes him, and nothing at all shows that much better than a scholarly study of the translation. Poets, Pushkin wrote, sin by neglect of simpleness and truth often; they pursue all types of external effects. The quest for type sweeps them toward exaggeration and bombast. He criticized in Hugo, whom he admired, an lack of simplicity. Life is without him, he wrote. Basically, truth is normally absent. The strangeness of all Russian writers, like the greatest among them, baffles the French reader frequently, and indeed, repels him sometimes; but I confess that it's the lack of strangeness in Pushkin that confounds me. Or at least what baffles me, is to observe that Dostoevsky, that genius so prodigi...