"¡Caray! That is well thought, and delicately said. I entirely share your opinion, my friend."
"It seems to me that the stake is easy to find. For some time we have received a few ounces without having met with any opportunity to spend it."
"Very well, we will play for an ounce."
The two pieces of gold were placed on the grass. They drew lots who should deal. Fate favoured Mataseis, and the game commenced.
Monte is the American lansquenet. Its combinations are the same, or nearly so, as those of lansquenet; only as more cards are on the table, the chances of the banker are greater. The chief art in the game is—as in all games of chance, for that matter—to adroitly shuffle and deal the cards, talents which the Spanish-Americans possess in an eminent degree. They could easily teach the Greeks, the cleverest people in Europe, who are very skilful in the matter.
The game that the two brothers were playing was all the more curious, inasmuch as each one knew thoroughly the resources that his adversary possessed, and his manner of playing.
Two hours passed, during which they did no harm, which the reader can easily understand; the two friends watched each other too narrowly.
During all this time, there had been very little conversation. The only words that they pronounced were in connection with the game, and they confined themselves to the announcement of the colours—words like these, for example, and very little understood by a third party—bastos, palos, copas, oro, sometimes adding the same before the colour—siete de copas, cinco de palos, &c. However, as often happens, Mataseis, who, in playing fairly, saw fortune favouring him, wished to force the luck, and oblige her to remain faithful to him. The mode was easy for him, and perfectly within his reach; let us do him the justice to acknowledge that he hesitated a long time to employ it—not that his conscience revolted the least in the world against the expedient, which appeared all fair to him—but simply that he was afraid he would be discovered by his companion.
The strife was long; it lasted at least five minutes, but there were four ounces on the game—a pretty sum. There wanted only a dos de oro to win the game. Mataseis balanced the card between his fingers; he was ready to turn it—when he suddenly stopped, leant forward and listened.
"Did you not hear something, my dear fellow?" said he.