good deal of poor trash. So, though you’re only a scorer, you get used to telling folks; that is, in a certain way you learn a thing or two.
I looked at the bárin . I see him sit down, modest and quiet, not knowing anybody; and the clothes on him are so brand-new, that thinks I, “Either he’s a foreigner—an Englishman maybe—or some count just come. And though he’s so young, he has an air of some distinction.” Oliver sat down next him, so he moved along a little.
They began a game. The big man lost. He shouts to me. Says he, “You’re always cheating. You don’t count straight. Why don’t you pay attention?”
He scolded away, then threw down his cue, and went out. Now, just look here! Evenings, he and the prince plays for fifty silver rubles a game; and here he only lost a bottle of Makon wine, and got mad. That’s the kind of a character he is.
Another time he and the prince plays till two o’clock. They don’t bank down any cash; and so I know neither of them’s got any cash, but they are simply playing a bluff game.
“I’ll go you twenty-five rubles,” says he.
“All right.”
Just yawning, and not even stopping to place the ball—you see, he was not made of stone—now just notice what he said. “We are playing for money,” says he, “and not for chips.”
But this man puzzled me worse than all the rest. Well, then, when the big man left, the prince says to the new bárin , “Wouldn’t you like,” says he, “to play a game with me?”
“With pleasure,” says he.