hasty and hearty meal, and his very unusual potations, especially after
such long abstinence and intense anxiety as he had experienced during
the previous two days. He had intended to have seen all his companions
under the table; but he began gradually to feel a want of control over
himself, his thoughts, and feelings, which a little disquieted him, as
he now and then caught glimpses of the extent to which it was
proceeding. "_In vino veritas_," properly translated, means--that
when a man is fairly under the influence of liquor, you see a strong
manifestation of his real character. The vain man is vainer; the
voluble, more voluble; the morose, more morose; the passionate, more
passionate; the detractor, more detracting; the sycophant, more
sycophantic, and so forth. Now Mr. Gammon was a cold, cautious,
long-headed schemer, and as the fumes of liquor mounted up into his
head, they did but increase the action and intensity of those qualities
for which, when sober, he was so pre-eminently distinguished; only that
there was a half-conscious want of coherency and subordination. The
impulse and the habit were present; but there seemed also a strange
disturbing force: in short--what is the use of disguising matters?--Mr.
Gammon was getting very drunk; and he felt very sorry for it--but it was
too late. In due time the dismal effort _not to appear drunk_, ceased--a
vast relief! Silent and more silent he became; more and more observant
of the motions of Snap and Titmouse; more and more complicated and
profound in his schemes and purposes; and at length he felt as if, by
some incomprehensible means, he were attempting to take _himself_
in--inveigling himself: at which point, after a vain attempt to
understand his exact position, with reference to himself, he slowly, but
_rather_ unsteadily, rose from his chair; looked with an unsettled eye
at Titmouse for nearly a minute; a queer smile now and then flitted
across his features; and he presently rang the bell. Boots having obeyed
the summons, Gammon with a turbid brain and cloudy eye followed him to
the door, with a most desperate but unavailing effort to walk thither
steadily. Having reached his room, he sat down with a sort of suspicion
that he had said or done something to commit himself. Vain was the
attempt to wind up his watch; and at length he gave it up, with a faint
curse. With only one stocking off, conceiving himself to be undressed,
after trying four or five times ineffectually to blow out his candle, he
succeeded, and got into bed; his head, however, occupying the place
assigned to his feet. He lay asleep for about half an hour--and then
experienced certain insupportable sensations. He was indeed miserable
beyond description; and lost all thoughts of what would become of
Titmouse--of Quirk and Snap--in his own most desperate indisposition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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