More wine for me, pour me some more! You smart girl, I knew you're a smart girl, just teasing...” Faces turn red, the dark earth blood is rising. They wink at Pelka, wink at the host: He knows his goods! The women feel the buttons constricting them - they undo one, another, a third. By twos the guests go outside to get some air. Well, my dear guests, are you soaked to the gills? Eh? And now-to dance! Get lively! The table and the chairs vanish. The middle of the room is empty. Ivan the Monk jumps out of his hole, a tambourine in his hands: Tim-ta-a-am! Tim-ta-a-am! “Eh-hey! the redhead suddenly snatches the tambourine and sweeps off, tapping wildly in a circle. Eyes closed: a white sleepless sun-a white night on the meadow-white columns of smoke swaying over fires... Eh-ah!-to whirl herself to death, to whirl out everything, to empty herself - nothing has ever been... Heavy boots are thumping on the floor, beards fly in the wind, the frock-coat tails go flying... hey, get going, faster, faster - a hundred versts an hour! (The North)
~ Yevgeny Zamyatin
