The cavaliere came back very soon, a flask in one hand and a glass in the other.
"Blood of St. John!" he exclaimed as he set them down with a clink on the table, "those rascals--I will have their ears cut off--they fear this poor lamb," and he fondled the great bear, which rose on its hind feet and began muzzling its master.
"I am not surprised. Corpo di Bacco! The king again!" and I flung down the pack in apparent disgust.
"Down, Pluto!" and Baglioni turned to me, "The king again. What was that you said?"
"Cutting left hand against the right. I lost three times."
"I lost ten thousand one night over cutting--but help yourself," and he pushed the flask towards me, and then filled his own, which he drained at a gulp.
"Come, cavaliere--you are in no hurry--cut me through the pack."
"With pleasure; but my purse-bearer is downstairs--will you permit me to see him?"
"By all means--the heavier the purse the better for me."
"A favour--I cannot play with that beast near me--could you not send him away?"