Eight lines is this dance, yet its meanings are almost endless.  No. 2, in B minor, is called The Cuckoo by Kleczynski.  It is sprightly and with the lilt, notwithstanding its subtle progressions, of Mazovia.  No. 3 in D flat is all animation, brightness and a determination to stay out the dance.  The alternate major-minor of the theme is truly Polish.  The graceful trio and canorous brilliancy of this dance make it a favored number.  The ending is epigrammatic.  It comes so suddenly upon us, our cortical cells pealing with the minor, that its very abruptness is witty.  One can see Chopin making a mocking moue as he wrote it.  Tschaikowsky borrowed the effect for the conclusion of the Chinoise in a miniature orchestral suite.  The fourth of this opus is in C sharp minor.  Again I feel like letting loose the dogs of enthusiasm.  The sharp rhythms and solid build of this ample work give it a massive character.  It is one of the big Mazurkas, and the ending, raw as it is—­consecutive, bare-faced fifths and sevenths—­compasses its intended meaning.

Opus 33 is a popular set.  It begins with one in G sharp minor, which is curt and rather depressing.  The relief in B major is less real than it seems—­on paper.  Moody, withal a tender-hearted Mazurka.  No. 2, in D, is bustling, graceful and full of unrestrained vitality.  Bright and not particularly profound, it was successfully arranged for voice by Viardot-Garcia.  The third of the opus, in C, is the one described by de Lenz as almost precipitating a violent row between Chopin and Meyerbeer.  He had christened it the Epitaph of the Idea.

“Two-four,” said Meyerbeer, after de Lenz played it.  “Three-four,” answered Chopin, flushing angrily.  “Let me have it for a ballet in my new opera and I’ll show you,” retorted Meyerbeer.  “It’s three-four,” scolded Chopin, and played it himself.  De Lenz says they parted coolly, each holding to his opinion.  Later, in St. Petersburg, Meyerbeer met this gossip and told him that he loved Chopin.  “I know no pianist, no composer for the piano like him.”  Meyerbeer was wrong in his idea of the tempo.  Though Chopin slurs the last beat, it is there, nevertheless.  This Mazurka is only four lines long and is charming, as charming as the brief specimen in the Preludes.  The next Mazurka is another famous warhorse.  In B minor, it is full of veiled coquetries, hazardous mood transitions, growling recitatives and smothered plaints.  The continual return to the theme gives rise to all manner of fanciful programmes.  One of the most characteristic is by the Polish poet Zelenski, who, so Kleczynski relates, wrote a humorous poem on this mazurka.  For him it is a domestic comedy in which a drunken peasant and his much abused wife enact a little scene.  Returning home the worse for wear he sings “Oj ta dana”—­ “Oh dear me”—­and rumbles in the bass in a figure that answers the treble.  His wife reproaching him, he strikes her.  Here we are in B flat.  She laments her fate in B major.