Old Masters. The Clever Man, having had his usual morning warble, is
extremely quiet. He will win, he pyramids--and he pyramids because he has
the cash and can afford to make every play a big one. All he needs is the
rake of a _croupier_ to complete his disinterested and wholly nerveless
poise. He is a born gambler, is The Clever Man--and I dare say that to
play cards in time of war constituted a heinous crime and I am certain
that he played cards before he arrived at La Ferte; moreover, I suppose
that to win at cards in time of war is an unutterable crime, and I know
that he has won at cards before in his life--so now we have a perfectly
good and valid explanation of the presence of The Clever Man in our
midst. The Clever Man's chief opponent was Judas. It was a real pleasure
to us whenever of an evening Judas sweated and mopped and sweated and
lost more and more and was finally cleaned out.

But The Skipper, I learned from certain prisoners who escorted the
baggage of The Clever Man from The Enormous Room when he left us one day
(as he did for some reason, to enjoy the benefits of freedom), paid the
mastermind of the card table 150 francs at the gate--poor Skipper! upon
whose vacant bed lay down luxuriously the Lobster, immediately to be
wheeled fiercely all around The Enormous Room by the Guard Champetre and
Judas, to the boisterous plaudits of _tout le monde_--but I started to
tell about the afternoon when the master-mind lost his knife; and tell it
I will forthwith. B. and I were lying prone upon our respective beds
when--presto, a storm arose at the further end of The Enormous Room. We
looked, and beheld The Clever Man, thoroughly and efficiently angry,
addressing, threatening and frightening generally a constantly increasing
group of fellow-prisoners. After dismissing with a few sharp linguistic
cracks of the whip certain theories which seemed to be advanced by the
bolder auditors with a view to palliating, persuading and tranquilizing
his just wrath, he made for the nearest _paillasse_, turned it