"I am."
—Which remark came from Gyáli, not Lorand.
I looked at him. The fellow had remained sober. He had only tasted the wine, while others had drunk it.
"If you are inclined, let us try," said Lorand.
"With pleasure, only you must do it first."
"I shall do so, but you will not follow me."
"If you do it, I shall too. But I think you will not do it before me."
One idea flashed clearly before me and chilled my whole body. I saw all: I understood all now: the mystery of ten years was no longer a secret to me: I saw the refugee, I saw the pursuer, and I had both in my hand, in such an iron grip, as if God had lent me for the moment the hand of an archangel.
You just talk away.
Lorand's face was a feverish red.