Status Updates From LA Terre (Folio) by Zola Em...

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...and depositing them in a steaming pile in his yard. And it was the same in every house, reeking vats, streaming presses, casks overflowing and all over Rognes the fumes of wine filled every corner and the smell alone was enough to make you drunk.

During the day, Buteau had put his wine in cask, six barrels which he had filled from the tap of the wat. But some neighbours were not so far advanced: one of them, still picking his grapes, had been treading them since morning, stark-naked; another one, armed with a stick, was watching the fermentation and pushing the head down into the seething must; a third, who had a press, was squeezing the skins and stalks...

For a whole week Rognes would reek of grapes; people ate so many that women lifted their skirts and men dropped their trousers under every hedge and lovers stained with grape juice greedily exchanged kisses among the vines. In the end, there were lots of drunken men and pregnant girls.

He went back with him to the Jolly Ploughman.

...and screamed:
'You bollocking dirty shit!'

'You old cuckold!' Jesus Christ was yelling. 'You know I go to bed with your old woman.'
It was true. Ever since the village feast, he had been tumbling Bécu's wife unceremoniously in any old corner, using such endearing expressions as 'old bag'. But Bécu was aggressive when drunk, and lost his temper. He might accept the situation when sober, but in his cups he took offence. He flourished an empty bottle and...