“I’m inclined to think so, too,” remarked Luigi. “I think we’d better wait and take him back to Piacenza.”
At this there was a dissenting murmur, which grew so strong that my courage failed again. Suddenly Luigi turned to the crowd and cried. “Let us give him a chance. I’ll play him at dominoes. If he loses we’ll end his troubles. What do you say?”
“Capital idea. Let him be tried by his skill with the ivories!” cried one of the men, and the scheme seemed to tickle the fancy of the crowd. They evidently had confidence in Luigi’s ability to play dominoes. Unfortunately it was a game of which I knew nothing, and I told them so.
Ninetta was still standing beside Luigi. “Let me play for him,” she said eagerly. “Luck is always with me.”
“Yes, let her play,” cried the men, evidently amused at the novelty of the thing, and also sure that the old Italian’s superior skill would win. “Yes, let Ninetta play for him. Give her your money,” they said, addressing me.
I looked at the girl curiously. Her big dark eyes were glittering with excitement, but she was cool and self-possessed. Taking out my purse which contained my wealth, about £70 in fifty lire notes, I handed it to her.
The dominoes were produced, and in a few moments she and Luigi were seated opposite each other, and the game began.
It was a weird scene, and I had the odd feeling that I was simply a spectator and in no way concerned. I remember wishing for paints that I might transfer it to canvas. What a picture it would make! The quaint, old-fashioned, frescoed room; the smoky lamps shedding a sickly light upon the eager group around the table. I could see the face of Ninetta, and knew that in all probability my life hung upon her skill.