Like other attacks of fever, it has a crisis, beyond which a turn sets in!
After midnight the uproarious clamor subsided. The first heating influence of the wine had already worked itself out. One or two who could not fight with it, gave in and lay down to sleep, while the others remained in their places, continuing the drinking-bout, not for the sake of inebriety, merely out of principle, that they might show they would not allow themselves to be overcome by wine.
This is where the real heroes' part begins, of those whom the first glass did not loosen, nor the tenth tie their tongues.
Now they begin to drink quietly and to tell anecdotes between the rounds.
One man does not interrupt another, but when one has finished his story, another says, "I know one still better than that," and begins: "the matter happened here or there, I myself being present."
The anecdotes at times reached the utmost pitch of obscenity and at such times I was displeased to hear Lorand laugh over such jokes as expressed contempt for womankind.
I was only calmed by the thought that "our own" were long in bed—it was after midnight—and so it were impossible for mother or someone else out of curiosity to be listening at the keyhole, waiting for Lorand's voice.
All at once Lorand took over the lead in the conversation.
He introduced the question "Which is the most celebrated drinking nation in the world?"
He himself for his part immediately said he considered the Germans were the most renowned drinkers.