"_Saperlote!_ my young friend; you 'll never change luck by tearing my old uniform," growled out a rugged-looking German skipper, who, commanding a small privateer, affected the rank and style of a naval officer.
"Oh, is it you, Hans?" said the youth, carelessly; "I thought it had been one of our own fellows. Only think the bank should lose, because I made no stake; see now, watch this. Halt!" cried he to the dealer, in a voice that at once arrested his hand. "You give one no time, sir, to decide upon his game," said he, with a savage irascibility, which continued bad luck had carried to the highest pitch. "Players who risk their two or three crowns may not object; but, if a man desires to make a heavy stake; it is but common courtesy to wait a moment. A thousand doubloons, the red queen--fifteen hundred," added he, quickly,--"fifteen, and thirty-five--or eight." So saying, he pushed with both hands the great heap of gold pieces into the middle of the table; and then, with eyes bloodshot and glaring, he watched each card that fell from the banker's fingers. When the first row of cards were dealt, all was in his favor, and, as the banker took up the second pack, a long-suppressed sigh broke from the gambler's bosom. It seemed, at length, as if fortune had grown weary of persecuting him.
"Come, Enrique," said a handsomely dressed and fine-looking man, who stood opposite to him, "luck has turned at last; there is nothing but the queen of spades against you!"
As if by some magic spell he had called the card, the words were not out when it dropped upon the table. A cry of mingled amazement and horror burst from the players, whose natures would seem to recognize some superstitious influence in such marked casualties. As for Enrique, he stood perfectly still and silent; a horrible smile, the ghastly evidence of an hysterical effort, sat upon his rigid features, and at length two or three heavy drops of blood trickled from his nostril and fell upon his shirt.
"Where's Roland?" said he, in a faint whisper, to a young man behind him.
"I saw him with Maritaña, walking towards the three fountains."
Enrique's pallid cheek grew scarlet, and, rudely pushing his way through the crowd, he disappeared from view.