'Cheat of a Government!' a shrill voice called out behind Don Domenico.
It was Michele the shoeblack, waiting to play his small Friday evening game. He was to play higher stakes next day, when he got the money from Donna Concetta. In the meanwhile he tasted the delight of being there as he waited his turn. At the third terno secco Don Domenico explained his game.
'I don't care about taking the ambo; fifteen francs are nothing to me.'
'Indeed!' said complacent Don Crescenzio.
He took the twenty francs, folded the coupons neatly, and handed them to him. Getting on tiptoe to reach the wicket, the lame hunchback was already dictating his numbers. He gave the explanation of each.
'This I have played for twenty years ... this is Father Giuseppe d'Avellino's terno ... this is the ambo of the day ... this is the terno of the man killed in Piazza degli Orefici.'
But they were small stakes, seven or eight francs in all, and those waiting behind him got impatient. By a curious attraction, big gamblers went to Don Baldassare, the old man. Ninetto Costa, in evening dress, just showing under his overcoat, his gibus hat rather askew on his curly, scented hair, his very white teeth uncovered by smiling red lips, handed his list over to the accountant, while he smoked a Havana calmly, cheerful as usual. He satisfied Don Baldassare's inquiries pleasantly. The sum staked had to be repeated to him as a precaution, not because he wondered at the largeness of it.
'On the first ticket seventy on the terno, twenty on the quaterna?'
'Yes, that is it;' and he puffed out odorous smoke.
'On the second terno secco a hundred and fifty is it?'