chorus. Next we
clinked glasses together, shouted something in praise of punch, crossed
hands, and took our first drink of the sweet, strong mixture. After that
there was no further waiting; the "wine" was in full swing. The first
glassful consumed, a second was poured out. Yet, for all that I began to
feel a throbbing in my temples, and that the flames seemed to be turning
purple, and that every one around me was laughing and shouting, things
seemed lacking in real gaiety, and I somehow felt that, as a matter
of fact, we were all of us finding the affair rather dull, and only
PRETENDING to be enjoying it. The Dorpat student may have been an
exception, for he continued to grow more and more red in the face and
more and more ubiquitous as he filled up empty glasses and stained the
table with fresh spots of the sweet, sticky stuff. The precise sequence
of events I cannot remember, but I can recall feeling strongly attracted
towards Frost and the Dorpat student that evening, learning their German
song by heart, and kissing them each on their sticky-sweet lips; also
that that same evening I conceived a violent hatred against the Dorpat
student, and was for pushing him from his chair, but thought better of
it; also that, besides feeling the same spirit of independence towards
the rest of the company as I had felt on the night of the matriculation
dinner, my head ached and swam so badly that I thought each moment would
be my last; also that, for some reason or another, we all of us sat down
on the floor and imitated the movements of rowers in a boat as we sang
in chorus, "Down our mother stream the Volga;" also that I conceived
this procedure on our part to be uncalled for; also that, as I lay
prone upon the floor, I crossed my legs and began wriggling about like a
tsigane; [Gipsy dancer.] also that I ricked some one's neck, and came to
the conclusion that I should never have done such a thing if I had not
been drunk; also that we had some supper and another kind of liquor, and
that I then went to the door to get some fresh air; also that my head
seemed suddenly to grow chill, and that I noticed, as I drove away, that
the scat of the vehicle was so sharply aslant and slippery that for me
to retain my position behind Kuzma was impossible; also that he seemed
to have turned all flabby, and to be waving about like a dish clout.
But what I remember best is that throughout the whole of that evening
I never ceased to feel that I was