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Look at this gem I found in Hugo's *Les Misérables*; I like him more and more.
"Some were singing, others were chatting; the voices merged into a frenzied noise. Tholomyès stopped it.
- Enough with the nonsense, and without a break! - he exclaimed. - For a brilliant conversation, you need to think about your words. An excess of improvisation needlessly exhausts the mind. An uncorked beer doesn't foam. Don't rush, gentlemen. Let's bring grandeur to our drinking, let's eat thoughtfully, let's feast slowly. There's no need to hurry. Look at spring; if it rushes, it will burn out, or rather, it will freeze. <...> Excessive zeal kills the grace and joy of communication. Don't be too eager, gentlemen.
A muffled murmur was heard.
- Tholomyès! Leave us alone, - said Blachevelle.
- Down with the tyrant! - declared Fameuil.
- Long live the tavern, tavern brew, tavern fun! - cried Listolier.
- That's what Sunday is for, - continued Fameuil.
- We are completely sober, - added Listolier."
This is just a small excerpt; unfortunately, I didn't see it in the electronic version, and I'm too lazy to retype the rest. So, doesn't this remind you of closing time at a tavern? Instead of Tholomyès, we could put Arandor; instead of Listolier, maybe Maggot; and instead of Fameuil, Ama.
What a delight! I'll try to post a link to the whole chapter now; it's just like our tavern!)