"I salute the lovely Anita," he said, as he doffed his hat and bowed profoundly.
The girl blushed, bent on him an expressive glance from beneath her long velvety eyelashes, but made no reply.
"You have lost, excellency," Tío Lucas said with a joyous accent, which he could not completely conceal.
"Very good," the stranger replied, without even looking at him, so fascinated was he by the charming apparition on the balcony.
"What!" exclaimed the banker, falling back a step in spite of himself at this proposition.
"No, I am wrong; I have something else to propose."
"How; much have you there?" he said, pointing to the table with a disdainful gesture.
The spectators regarded with a stupor, mingled with terror, this extraordinary man, who played for ounces and diamonds as others did for ochavos. The girl became pale. She turned a supplicating glance to the stranger.
"Play no more," she murmured in a trembling voice.
"Thanks," he exclaimed, "thanks, Señorita; your beautiful eyes will bring me a fortune. I would give all the gold on the table for the súchil flower you hold in your hand, and which your lips have touched."
"Do not play, Don Martial," the girl repeated, as she retired and closed the window. But, through accident or some other reason, her hand let loose the flower. The horseman made his steed bound forward, caught it in its flight, and buried it in his bosom, after having kissed it several times.
"Cucharés," he then said to the lepero, "turn up a card."
The latter obeyed. "Seis de copas!" he said.
"Voto a brios!" the stranger exclaimed, "the colour of the heart we shall win. Tío Lucas, I will back this card against all the gold you have on your table."
The banker turned pale and hesitated; the spectators had their eyes fixed upon him.
"Bah!" he thought after a minute's reflection, "It is impossible for him to win. I accept, excellency," he then added aloud.
"That is unnecessary, Señor; there are nine thousand four hundred and fifty gold ounces."[1]
At the statement of this formidable amount the spectators gave vent to a mingled shout of admiration and covetousness.
"I fancied you richer," the stranger said ironically. "Well, so be it then."
"No, I am thoroughly convinced you are going to lose, Tío Lucas, and I wish you to be quite convinced that I have won fairly. In consequence, do me the pleasure of cutting, yourself. You will then be the artisan of your own ruin, and be unable to reproach anybody."