.. number or colour.... Place your bets."
When enough bets were placed,--and this happened fairly
often,--Tabuenca would set the wheel spinning, at the same time
repeating his slogan: "'Round goes the wheel!" The marble would bounce
amidst the nails and even before it came to a stop the operator knew
the winning number and colour, crying: "Red seven...." or "the blue
five," and always he guessed right.
As Manuel spoke on, Roberto became pensive.
"Do you see?" he said, all at once, "these delays are what provoke a
fellow. You have a capital of will in bank-notes, gold-pieces, in
large denominations, and you need energy in centimos, in small change.
It's the same with the intelligence; that's why so many intelligent
and energetic men of ambition do not succeed. They lack fractions, and
in general they also lack the talent to conceal their efforts. To be
able to be stupid on some occasions would probably be more useful than
the ability to be discreet on just as many other occasions."
Manuel, who did not understand the reason for this shower of words,
stared open-mouthed at Roberto, who sank again into his meditations.
For a long time both remained silent, when there came into the cafe a
tall, thin man with greyish hair and grey moustache.
"Can that be Titiri, Don Alonso?" asked Roberto.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126