at him contemptuously. Mitya began to feel anxious. He noticed besides, that the Pole on the sofa was looking at him with an irritable expression.
“ Panie! ” cried Mitya, “let’s drink! and the other pan , too! Let us drink.”
In a flash he had pulled three glasses towards him, and filled them with champagne.
“To Poland, panovie , I drink to your Poland!” cried Mitya.
“I shall be delighted, panie ,” said the Pole on the sofa, with dignity and affable condescension, and he took his glass.
“And the other pan , what’s his name? Drink, most illustrious, take your glass!” Mitya urged.
“ Pan Vrublevsky,” put in the Pole on the sofa.
Pan Vrublevsky came up to the table, swaying as he walked.
“To Poland, panovie! ” cried Mitya, raising his glass. “Hurrah!”
All three drank. Mitya seized