become sacred and are left undisturbed by the pursuing hordes, that continue to roll up and down the countryside in waves, swelling like the foaming sea and as noisy, favoured by the darkness.
At each collision, defections occur on the one side and the other, pairing taking place amongst the deserters. As brazen as the men, the women do not rest until they have chosen unto themselves mates. The columns grow thinner in consequence of these repeated eliminations. This goes on until all, or nearly all, the women have secured their dancing and sleeping partners for the rest of the fête. Those left to the last are, of course, the most enraged. Sometimes the humour of the young sparks takes the form of avoiding their search and obliging the maddened females to track out the desired males and give them chase. They feign to abandon the game, play at hide-and-seek, and pretend to wish to escape the amorous duties awaiting them. Then, excited by drink, dancing, contacts, twirlings and twistings, hoarse, almost foaming at the mouth, the women wander like she-wolves in rut from one street-crossing to another, or hold themselves coiled up in copses, silent, on the watch for their prey.
