“My little master, my little silver gold trove, my lovie!  You forgive a drunken wife like me, now.  Well, what of it?  I’ve gone op a spree!” She then darted at him in an attempt to kiss his hand.  “But then, I know you ain’t proud, like other gentry.  Well, give me your hand, dearie-dear; why, I want to kiss your little hand!  No, no, no!  I athk, I athk you! ...”  “Well, now, that’s nonsense, Aunt Glycera!” Linchonin interrupted her, unexpectedly becoming animated.  “Let’s best kiss just so, now.  Your lips are just too sweet!”

“Ah, my little sweetheart!  My little bright sun, my little apple of paradise, you,” Glycera waxed tender, “give me your lips, then!  Give me your little lips to buss, then! ...”

She pressed him warmly to her gigantean bosom and again slavered over him with her moist, warm, Hottentot lips.  After that, she seized him by his sleeve, brought him out into the middle of the ring, and began to walk around him with a stately, mincing step, having bent her waist coquettishly and vociferating: 

    “Oh, each to his taste, I want Paraska more,
    For I’ve a divel in my pants
    Her skirt holds somethin’ for!”

And then suddenly she passed on, sustained by the musicians, to a most rollicking, Little Russian, thumping gopak dance: 

    “Oh, Chook, that is too much,
    You have soiled your apron too much. 
    Well, Prisko, don’t you fret,
    Wipe it off, then, if you’re wet! 
    TRALALA, TRALALA ...

    Sleeps, Khima, and won’t stir
    That a Kossack sleeps with her,
    You feel all, Khima—­why deceive? 
    Just to yourself you make believe. 
    Tai, Tai, TRALALAI..."’

Lichonin, completely grown merry, suddenly began jumping like a goat about her, just like a satellite around a whirling planet—­ long-legged, long-armed, stooping and altogether incongruous.  His entrance was greeted by a general but pretty friendly neighing.  He was made to sit down at the table, was helped to vodka and sausage.  He, for his part, sent a tramp he knew after beer, and, glass in hand, delivered three absurd speeches:  one about the self-determination of Ukraine; another about the goodness of Little Russian sausage, in connection with the beauty and domesticity of the women of Little Russia; and the third, for some reason, about trade and industry in the south of Russia.  Sitting alongside of Lukeriya, he was all the time trying to embrace her around the waist, and she did not oppose this.  But even his long arms could not encompass her amazing waist.  However, she clasped his hand powerfully under the table, until it hurt, with her enormous, soft hand, as hot as fire.

At this moment among the huckstresses, who up to now had been tenderly kissing, certain old, unsettled quarrels and grievances flickered up.  Two of the wives, bending toward each other just like roosters ready to enter battle, their arms akimbo, were pouring upon each other the most choice, out-of-the-way oaths: