The swindler enters a public-house, which he knows is much frequented, and places himself at a table, near which another man is already seated; this man, whom he pretends not to know, is an accomplice. He calls for a bottle of wine, which he empties at once, and begins talking to his neighbour in a loud voice, so as to attract the attention of the whole company. He puts on an appearance of the greatest stupidity, and makes some foolish remarks arranged for the occasion, to which the "comtois" replies by making game of him, to the great amusement and satisfaction of his auditory.
Insensibly all draw near, and approach the two antagonists.
The Greek ends by getting annoyed with the joking of his neighbour, and proposes to play for the two bottles on the table.
The proposition is accepted, but the Greek plays badly, and the game is soon lost. He holds his cards so awkwardly, that it appears as if he had never had one in his hands before. His defeat was evident from the first.
His fortunate adversary, delighted with his triumph, wins everything, and quickly walks off.
The rogue who remains behind, bitterly bewails his loss, and testifies his anxiety to take his revenge on the first comer.
The dupes, led on by the hope of winning easily, are all eager to accept the challenge. They play, and win as they expected, but the rascal, far from being discouraged, takes from his pocket a handful of five-franc pieces, which he announces he is ready to stake, to try and regain what he has lost.
This declaration, together with the clink of the silver, is too great a temptation to withstand. Every one present is anxious to have his share of a booty so easy to acquire. They play again, and again win several games, and this additional loss (arranged by the Greek) gives him an opportunity of raising his stakes and offering to play double or quits.
Now begins the real game of our hero, who, without forgetting his character of the fool, brings into play the resources of a coarse sort of sleight of hand. He gains with an air of such stupid simplicity and "gaucherie," that no one has the slightest suspicion on the subject. Luck has turned in his favour, and, in the parlance of "cabarets," there is a Providence over drunkards.
The Greek, after having filled his purse at the expense of his adversaries, retires for want of combatants, and goes off to share the spoil of the day with his associate.