They danced long, very long, stopping only to take breath and drink a glass of beer; then once more they started off, never noticing that folk were watching them, and whispering—or even uttering aloud—their disapproval. But Antek no longer cared for anything in the world, now that he felt her at his side, and pressed her to himself till she closed—closed with delight—those dear blue eyes of hers: he had forgotten himself completely—forgotten men and the whole world of men. His blood was at boiling-point, and he knew his strength to be waxing within him, bold, invincible, and filling his bosom full of the sense of force. As to Yagna, she was entirely plunged in the oblivion of love. He was carrying her off along with him—a fiery dragon!—and she neither made nor could make resistance; so masterful was he, bearing her on in his strong embrace, that now and again her eyes would be darkened, and she could think of nothing else but the bliss, the unutterable joy of her youth: the blackness of his brows, his unfathomable eyes, and the crimson allurement of his mouth! And the violins were all the time playing, as in an enchanted dream, a tune as genial as the harvest breeze, a tune that turned the blood into fire, and made the heart to throb with mighty gladness; and the bass-viols rumbled with a quick jerky cadence, forcing the feet of the dancers to accompany their lilt: while the flute warbled as entrancingly as a blackbird in the springtime, and opening the heart so, and filling it with such rapture, that you quivered all over, your brain swam, you breathed no more, you longed to weep, to laugh, cry out, hug, kiss—and fly away somewhere, out, out into the vast world! So on they danced, till the tavern shook, and the barrels on which the musicians had their stand shook too. In the circle of dancers there were about fifty couples, swaying from wall to wall. Sometimes the lamp would burn low or go out quite; and then the brands on the hearth would fling their ruddy blood-red glow on the dim forms that flitted by, so vague that one could in no wise know which they were—men or women. One saw but waving capotes, skirts, ribbons, aprons, flushed faces, bright eyes, and a mad din of clattering, singing and shouting—all mingled together in one whirling, twirling, swirling, calling, bawling, brawling, stamping, tramping, ramping mass! Of them all, Antek was the most boisterous and the liveliest, beating the floor with noisy heels, wheeling hither and thither like a whirlwind—falling down in homage, so that they thought he had stumbled—up again with a shout or a song for the musicians to take up after him—he passed round and round, a hurricane that scarce any could follow. For a full hour he continued thus, indefatigably. Others fell out, exhausted; the musicians’ hands were weary with playing: he threw them money, urging them to play as fast as he could dance. In the end, he and Yagna were almost the only couple that held out.