Kilan summons his daughters and asks them to dance for his guests. I continue to chew on another mushroom and realize the women never eat of it, but their merriment consists of dancing, singing, and flirting. Katirka spreads a mat on the floor near us whereupon Ketentina and Kalkina kneel down upon it and face each other. At first, they begin to sing very softly, weaving their hands and shoulders in the air as is they are writing some invisible script; then by degrees, they raise their voices in hypnotic conjunction with their bodies; after a lengthy spell, they finally run out of breath and collapse on the floor. This strange, uncouth performance, Steller informs me, greatly delights Kamchadal men. I cannot disagree. Then Kalkina recovers and dances towards me, the fire behind her is illuminating her hair and body. Her thin fishnet dress becomes almost transparent. I cannot look away. My senses have been stripped.