Jmoudic, one of Miçkiewicz's dainty ballads, which you have not read because it is no older than I am. If you wish it I will show it to you in Polish, or, if you prefer, in an excellent Russian translation by Pushkin."
I confess I was quite dumfounded. How the Dorpat professor would have chuckled if I had published as original the daïna of the "Sons of Boudrys"!
Instead of being amused at my confusion, the Count, with exquisite politeness, hastened to turn the conversation.
"So you have met Mlle. Ioulka?" said he.
"I have had the honour of being presented to her."
"What do you think of her? Speak quite frankly."
"She is a most agreeable young lady."
"So you are pleased to say."
"She is exceedingly pretty."
"Oh!"
"Do you not think she has the loveliest eyes in the world?"
"Yes."
"A complexion of the most dazzling whiteness? . . . I was reminded of a Persian ghazel, wherein a lover extols the fineness of his mistress's skin. 'When she drinks red wine,' he
