As I have said, I was frozen, I was paralysed, with fear.

The only movement I made was to convey that never-ending procession of glasses to my lips.

I was a poised and motionless receptacle for all that quantity of wine.

It lay inert in my fear-inert stomach.

I was too frightened, even, for my stomach to turn.
So all that Italian crew looked on and marvelled at the infant phenomenon that downed wine with the sang-froid of an automaton.