When the company saw we had explained matters to each other, they all crowded round us, and such a noise arose that I don't know even now what it was all about. I merely know that once or twice Pepi Gyáli wished to catch my eye to begin some conversation, and that at such times I asked the nearest man, "How long do you intend to amuse yourselves in this manner?" "How are you?" and similar surprising imbecilities.
Meanwhile the long table in the middle of the room had been laid: the wines had been piled up, the savory victuals were brought in; outside in the corridors a gypsy band was striking up a lively air, and everybody tried to get a seat.
I had to sit at the head of the table, near Lorand. On Lorand's left sat Topándy, on his right, beside me, Pepi Gyáli.
"Well, old fellow, you too will drink with us to-day?" said Lorand to me playfully, putting his arms familiarly round my neck.
"No, you know I never drink wine."
"Never? Not to-day either? Not even to my health?"
I looked at him. Why did he wish to make me drink to-day especially?
"No, Lorand. You know I am bound by a promise not to drink wine, and a man of honor always keeps his promises, however absurd."
I shall never forget the look which Lorand gave me at these words.
"You are right, old fellow:" and he grasped my hand. "A man of honor keeps his promises, however absurd...."