"'The women of Poland, my sons, are the most beautiful of all our captives--sportive as kittens and as white as cream. Under their black brows their eyes sparkle like stars. When I was young, half a century ago, I brought away captive from Poland a beautiful girl who became my wife. She has long been dead, but I can never look at her side of the hearth without remembering her.' "He blessed the youths, who already were armed and in the saddle. They set out. Autumn came, then winter ... but they did not come back, and the old Boudrys believed them to be dead. "There came a snowstorm, and a horseman drew near, who bore under his black bourka[5] a precious burden. "'Is it a sackful of roubles from Novgorod?' asked Boudrys. "'No, father. I am bringing you a daughter-in-law from Poland.' "In the midst of the snowstorm another horseman appeared. His bourka was also distended with a precious burden. "'What have you, my child; yellow amber from Germany?' "'No, father. I bring you a daughter-in-law from Poland.' "The snow fell in squalls. A horseman advanced hiding a precious burden under his bourka.... But before he had shown his spoil Boudrys had invited his friends to a third wedding." "Bravo! Professor," cried the Count; "you pronounce Jmoude to perfection. But who told you this pretty _daïna_?" "A young lady whose acquaintance I had the honour to make at Wilno, at the house of Princess Katazyna Paç." "What is her name?" "The _panna_ Iwinska." "Mlle. Ioulka!"[6] exclaimed the Count. "The little madcap! I might have guessed it. My dear Professor, you know Jmoude and all the learned tongues; you have read every old book, but you have let yourself be taken in by a young girl who has only read novels. She has translated to you, more or less correctly, in 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 Pouchkine." I confess I was quite dumbfounded. 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 said, 'you see it pass down her throat.' The _panna_ Iwinska made me think of those Persian lines."