on. Call them in, too, that were locked in. … Why did you lock them in? Tell them I’m going to dance. Let them look on, too. …”
Mitya walked with a drunken swagger to the locked door, and began knocking to the Poles with his fist.
“Hi, you … Podvysotskys! Come, she’s going to dance. She calls you.”
“ Łajdak! ” one of the Poles shouted in reply.
“You’re a łajdak yourself! You’re a little scoundrel, that’s what you are.”
“Leave off laughing at Poland,” said Kalganov sententiously. He too was drunk.
“Be quiet, boy! If I call him a scoundrel, it doesn’t mean that I called all Poland so. One łajdak doesn’t make a Poland. Be quiet, my pretty boy, eat a sweetmeat.”
“Ach, what fellows! As though they were not men. Why won’t they make friends?” said