From "Onegin"

Sometimes he read aloud with Olga A latter day romance discreet, Whose author truly painted nature, With cunning plot, insight complete; Oft he passed over a few pages, Too bald or tasteless in their art— And coloring, began on further, Not to disturb the maiden heart. Again, they sat for hours together, With but a chess board to divide; She with her arms propped on the table, Deep pondering, puzzled to decide— Till Lenski from his inward storm Captured her castle with his pawn!