"Bah," a lepero said, with a disdainful air, "what are one hundred ounces? Had you not won my last tlaco, Tío Lucas, I would cover them, that I would."
"I am in despair, Señor Cucharés," the banker replied with a bow, "that luck was so much against you, and I should feel delighted if you would allow me to lend you an ounce."
"You are jesting," the lepero said, drawing himself up haughtily. "Keep your gold, Tío Lucas; I know the way to procure as much as I want, whenever I think proper; but," he added, bowing with the most exquisite politeness, "I am not the less grateful to you for your generous offer."
And he offered the banker, across the table, his hand, which the latter pressed with great cordiality.
The lepero profited by the occasion to pick up with his free hand a pile of twenty ounces that was in his reach.
Tío Lucas had great difficulty in restraining himself, but he feigned not to have seen anything.
After this interchange of good offices there was a moment's silence. The spectators had seen everything that occurred, and therefore awaited with some curiosity the dénouement of this scene. Señor Cucharés was the first to renew the conversation.
"Oh!" he suddenly shouted, striking his forehead, "I believe, by Nuestra Señora de la Merced, that I am losing my head."
"Why so, caballero?" Tío Lucas asked, visibly disturbed by this exclamation.
"Caray! It's very simple," the other went on. "Did I not tell you just now that you had won all my money?"