ns of French
gastronomic art, and of wines every sort imaginable. The dinner lasted
far into the night, and towards the end of it the company began to grow
uproarious. The great patriot, as usual, related his lubricous,
equivocal anecdotes without troubling himself very much as to whether
ladies were present or not. He was wont to say _Castis sunt omnia
casta_, "To the pure all things are pure," and whoever blushed had, no
doubt, a good reason for blushing, and was therefore corrupt enough
already. The ladies, however, pretended not to hear, and began
conversing with their neighbours without taking any notice of the hoarse
laughter of the young bucks, who held it a point of honour to applaud
the witticisms of the great patriot.

Nevertheless every one did his best to enjoy himself as much as
possible.

And who so happy as the Nabob?

It occurred to him that, scarce a year ago, he had sat in the same place
where he was sitting now, and had seen a horrible sight; and now he saw
by his side a young and enchanting wife, and around him a merry lively
host of guests with cheerful, smiling faces.

And now from the adjoining chamber resounded, alternately grave and gay,
the notes of the Bihari fiddlers; one or two of the young wags thereupon
pushed their chairs away, went out among the gipsies, and fell a dancing
with each other. The more loquacious of the patriots who remained behind
began drinking the health of every fellow-guest present, in turn,
especially toasting the host and hostess; thence proceeding to drink to
the success of all manner of abstract objects, such as social unions,
counties and colleges, and other contemporary institutions. Count
Szepkiesdy made a long speech, into which he very neatly interwove every
applauded phrase which he had uttered during the last twelve months at
public assemblies. There were some present who had heard this speech at
least four times already, but this did not prevent anybody from cheering
him vociferously: we know, of course, that a good thing cannot be
repeated too often. Squire John himself was invincible as a
toast-responder, and if I were not obliged in this particular to give
the pre-eminence to an honoured lady, the amazonian Countess Kereszty, I
should have said that, for witty sallies and the draining of bumpers, he
was the hero of the evening.

In any case he deserves peculiar praise for one thing: in the midst of
all this talking and toasting he it was who first o