“Another fool. I won thirty-eight dollars from him at cards. That is not to kill about.”
“The three told me you win much money.”
“And am poorer than the birds.”
“How?”
“I am a poor idealist. I am the victim of illusions.” He laughed, then grinned and tapped his stomach. “I am a professional gambler but I like to gamble. To really gamble. Little gambling is all crooked. For real gambling you need luck. I have no luck.”
“Never?”
“Never. I am completely without luck. Look, this cabrón who shoots me just now. Can he shoot? No. The first shot he fires into nothing. The second is intercepted by a poor Russian. That would seem to be luck. What happens? He shoots me twice in the belly. He is a lucky man. I have no luck. He could not hit a horse if he were holding the stirrup. All luck.”
“I thought he shot you first and the Russian after.”
“No, the Russian first, me after. The paper was mistaken.”
“Why didn’t you shoot him?”
“I never carry a gun. With my luck, if I carried a gun I would be hanged ten times a year. I am a cheap card player, only that.” He stopped, then continued. “When I make a sum of money I gamble and when I gamble I lose. I have passed at dice for three thousand dollars and crapped out for the six. With good dice. More than once.”
“Why continue?”
“If I live long enough the luck will change. I have bad luck now for fifteen years. If I ever get any good luck I will be rich.” He grinned. “I am a good gambler, really I would enjoy being rich.”
“Do you have bad luck with all games?”
“With everything and with women.” He smiled again, showing his bad teeth.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
