"I'll lay my roan mare against your black horse," said he.
"Done!" said I.
"Sword against sword."
"Done!" said I.
"Saddle, bridle, and stirrups!" he cried.
"Done!" I shouted.
I had caught this spirit of sport from him. I would have laid my hussars against his dragoons had they been ours to pledge.
And then began the game of games. Oh, he played, this Englishman—he played in a way that was worthy of such a stake. But I, my friends, I was superb! Of the five which I had to make to win, I gained three on the first hand. The Bart bit his moustache and drummed his hands, while I already felt myself at the head of my dear little rascals. On the second, I turned the king, but lost two tricks—and my score was four to his two. When I saw my next hand I could not but give a cry of delight. "If I cannot gain my freedom on this," thought I, "I deserve to remain for ever in chains."
Give me the cards, landlord, and I will lay them out on the table for you.
Here was my hand: knave and ace of clubs, queen and knave of diamonds, and king of hearts. Clubs were trumps, mark you, and I had but one
