The wind abated in the course of the morning, but the snow continued, and the sky seemed to threaten us with a second tempest before the end of the day. It began to rise about two o'clock in the afternoon, and lasted till the evening. To divert our attention, it was proposed to us to try the abilities of a celebrated female dancer, who was a Kamtschadale, and lived in this ostrog. The encomiums bestowed upon her excited our curiosity, and we sent for her; but either from caprice or ill humour she refused to dance, and paid no regard to our invitation. It was in vain they represented that her refusal was disrespectful to the governor general; no consideration could induce her to comply. Fortunately we had some brandy by us, and a bumper or two seemed to effect a change in her inclinations. At the same time Kamtschadale, at our request, began to dance before her, challenging her by his voice and gestures. Gradually her eyes sparkled, her countenance became convulsive, and her whole frame shook upon the bench where she sat. To the enticements and shrill song of the dancer, she answered in similar accents, beating time with her head, which turned in every direction. The movements became at last so rapid, that, no longer able to contain herself, she darted from her seat, and in turn defied her man by cries and distortions still more extravagant. It is not easy to express the absurdity of the dance. All her limbs seemed to be disjointed; she moved them with equal strength and agility; she tore her cloaths, and fixed her hands to her bosom with a kind of rage as if she would tear it also. These singular transports were accompanied with still more singular postures; and in short, it was no longer a woman, but a fury. In her blind frenzy she would have rushed into the fire that was kindled in the middle of the room, if her husband had not taken the precaution of placing a bench before it to prevent her: during the whole dance indeed he took care to keep himself close to her. When he saw that her head was perfectly gone, that she staggered on all sides, and could no longer support herself without laying hold of her fellow dancer, he took her in his arms and placed her upon a bench, where she fell, like an inanimate clod, without consciousness, and out of breath. She continued five minutes in this situation. Meanwhile the Kamtschadale, proud of his triumph, continued to dance and to sing. Recovering from her swoon, the woman heard him, and suddenly, in spite of her weakness, she raised herself up, uttered some inarticulate sounds, and would have begun again this laborious contest. Her husband kept her back and interceded for her; but the conqueror, believing himself to be indefatigable, continued his jeers and bantering, and we were obliged to exert our authority to quiet him. In spite of the praises that were lavished upon the talents of these actors, the scene, I confess, afforded me no amusement, but on the contrary, considerable disgust.