“On they danced to the strains of the piano and the violin. Tereza leaned her hand on Tomas’s shoulder. Just as she had when they flew together in the airplane through the storm clouds. She was experiencing the same odd happiness and odd sadness as then. The sadness meant: we are at the last station. The happiness meant: we are together. The sadness was form, the happiness content. Happiness filled the space of sadness.
They went back to their table. She danced twice more with the collective farm chairman and once with the young man, who was so drunk he fell with her on the dance floor.
Then they all went upstairs and to their two separate rooms.
Tomas turned the key and switched on the ceiling light. Tereza saw two beds pushed together, one of the flanked by the bedside table and lamp. Up out of the lampshade, startled by the overhead light, flew a large nocturnal butterfly that began circling the room. The strains of the piano and violin rose up weakly from below.”
– Milan Kundera
