"And your feathers were generously plucked?"

"By no means. I usually left a winner. But after they fleeced a dear
friend from Ulm, and he robbed his master, I dropped dice."

"And you did so as easily as if it were a short fast after an abundant
meal?"

"It was little more difficult," Wolff asserted. "My father would have
gladly seen me outdo my countrymen, and sent me more money than I needed.
Why should I deprive honest fellows who had less?"

"That's just the difficulty," cried his companion eagerly. "It was easy
for you to renounce games of chance because your winnings only added more
to the rest, and you did not wish to pluck poorer partners. But I!
A poor devil like me cannot maintain armour-bearer, servants, and steeds
out of what the dear little mother at home in her faithful care can spare
from crops and interest. How could we succeed in making a fair
appearance at court and in the tournament if it were not for the dice?
And then, when I lose, I again become but the poor knight the saints made
me; when I win, on the contrary, I am the great and wealthy lord I would
have been born had the Lord permitted me to choose my own cradle.
Besides, those who lose through me are mainly dukes, counts, and
gentlemen with rich fiefs and fat bourgs, whom losing doubtless benefits,
as bleeding relieves a sick man. What suits the soldier does not befit
the merchant. We live wholly amid risks and wagers. Every battle, every
skirmish is a game whose stake is life. Whoever reflects long is sure to
lose. If I could only describe, Herr Eysvogel, what it is to dash
headlong upon the foe!"