"Yes, yes, and we will see if the luck will change, for Moro is winning all our money," said a little old man with a strong Galician accent. He had a fresh, clean-shaven, round face, white hair, and clear, kind eyes. His name was Saleta, and he was a magistrate of the Court of Justice, and a constant visitor at the Quiñones' house.
"Not so much as that, Señor Saleta, not so much! I have only two hundred counters, and I want three hundred to make up for what I lost yesterday," returned the man referred to, who was a youth with a genial frank expression of countenance.
"And why did you not call upon Manin?" asked the count with a smile as he glanced at the celebrated majordomo, who in his short breeches, woollen stockings, and green cloth jacket, was sleeping in an armchair.
The other three turned and looked at the man.
"Because Manin is a brute who can play at nothing but brisca,"[A] said Don Pedro, smiling.
"And at tute,"[A] returned the fellow, opening his mouth and yawning loudly.
"All right, and at tute."[A]
"And at monte."[A]
"Very well, man, and at monte, too."
And the friends went on with their cards without paying further attention to Manin, but presently he began again by saying: