"I afraid!" cried Mataseis, wounded in his self-love, and whose covetousness was still more excited by the gold spread out before him; "come on then; you are joking;" and he added the two ounces which were wanting.
The game became enthralling; there were twenty ounces staked on it.
"La codicia rompe el saco," says a Spanish proverb, which may be translated: Avarice breaks the purse. The sight of the pieces of gold which glittered before his eyes made Mataseis forget all prudence: he had but one thought—to secure, no matter by what means, the sum placed like a bait before him.
After a moment or two of hesitation, he seized the cards with a feverish hand, and commenced the game.
Sacatripas, instead of taking a third puro, carelessly made a cigarette. Apparently indifferent, he followed with a sullen eye all the movements of his adversary.
Several cards had been turned, without the ocho de bastos, which would decide the game in favour of Mataseis, appearing. The more the game advanced, the more the anxiety of the gaucho increased.
Sacatripas laughed gently; he made pleasant jokes on the delay of the appearance of the tres de copas, which would win the game for him.
The question was between the ocho de bastos and the tres de copas. If one turned up first, Mataseis would win; if the other, he would lose. Suddenly, the gaucho turned pale; he saw, on drawing the card that he was about to turn, that it was the tres de copas—that is to say, that he should lose; a cold sweat burst upon his countenance: his hand trembled.
Sacatripas did not flinch; he also had seen the card. We have said that for these two knowing men the back of the cards virtually did not exist.
"Well," said he, after a pause, "do not you turn it, companion?"