0 The Brothers Karamazov
words, quite naturally though, without the slightest affec-
tation. ‘Ever since your brother, do you remember, shoved
him off the carriage and sent him flying. That made me take
an interest in him at the time, and I took him into the coun-
try, but he keeps talking such rot I’m ashamed to be with
him. I’m taking him back.’
‘The gentleman has not seen Polish ladies, and says what
is impossible,’ the Pole with the pipe observed to Maximov.
He spoke Russian fairly well, much better, anyway, than
he pretended. If he used Russian words, he always distorted
them into a Polish form.
‘But I was married to a Polish lady myself,’ tittered Maxi-
mov.
‘But did you serve in the cavalry? You were talking about
the cavalry. Were you a cavalry officer?’ put in Kalgonov at
once.
‘Was he a cavalry officer indeed? Ha ha!’ cried Mitya, lis-
tening eagerly, and turning his inquiring eyes to each as
he spoke, as though there were no knowing what he might
hear from each.
‘No, you see,’ Maximov turned to him. ‘What I mean
is that those pretty Polish ladies ... when they danced the
mazurka with our Uhlans... when one of them dances a ma-
zurka with a Uhlan she jumps on his knee like a kitten... a
little white one... and the pan-father and pan-mother look
on and allow it... They allow it... and next day the Uhlan
comes and offers her his hand.... That’s how it is... offers her
his hand, he he!’ Maximov ended, tittering.
‘The pan is a lajdak!’* the tall Pole on the chair growled