These five men, particularly one who was seated with his back to the tree, appeared much interested in the game which they were playing. He wore a hat with a brim of the breadth of a good sized millstone, trimmed with dingy gold lace, and ornamented in front with a gilt portrait of Saint Peter, out of which sprang two enormous red cock's feathers. His language was a compound of French, Italian, and Hungarian, put together in such strange mixture, that he was scarcely intelligible to those to whom he addressed himself. No one knew what country gave him birth; but he commanded a certain respect among his comrades from the fact of his having served in most of the armies of Europe, and been in nearly all the campaigns of his day; and as he generally prefaced most of his phrases with oaths which he had picked up in the countries he had passed through, and which he pronounced after his own fashion, he thought to render himself thereby of more consequence among those over whom he had assumed the title of general. His beard was dressed in the Hungarian fashion, for being twisted up with pitch, it stuck out on both sides from under his nose a whole span's breadth in the air, much like two iron spikes. "_Canto cacramento!_" cried this man, with a threatening bass voice, "the little knave is mine; I'll cut him with the king of spades!" "It's mine, with your permission," cried his neighbour, "and the king into the bargain; there's the queen of spades!" "Morbleu!" vociferated the other, in a rage; "do you want to take the trick from your commander, Captain Löffler? For shame, for shame! he is a rebel who dares do that. May my soul be punished, but you want to take the command away from me." The general, for such he was, frowned furiously, pushed his hat off his ears, and discovered a large red scar on his forehead, which heightened the savage appearance of his look. "There is no military discipline at play," General Peter, "answered the other. You may order us captains to blockade a town, and raise contributions, but at play one man is as good as another." "You are mutinous, a rebel against the authorities! Thunder and lightning! were it not against my honour, I would cut you into a hundred pieces;--but play on." "There's an ace," said one. "Here's a quart," said another. "I cut with the ten," exclaimed a third. "And here's the knave,--who can take him?" said the fourth player. "I can," cried the large man; "there's the king,--Morbleu! the trick is mine." "Where did you get the king?" said a little thin man, with a cunning face, small searching eyes, and shrill voice, "didn't I see it at the bottom of the pack when you dealt. He has cheated! Long Peter has cheated, by all the saints!" "Muckerle, captain of the eighth company! I advise you to hold your tongue," said the general; "_Bassa manelka!_ I don't take a joke,--the mouse should not play with the lion."