Pierre and I go to the pub to play black jack

It was after a Sunday lunch that Pierre and I strolled down to the pub, intending to drink a little wine and play a few hands of black jack. We both wore jackets and hats, mine with a turned-down brim and Pierre's upturned. "Give me the cards please, bartender," I requested him as I paid for the beers. "We're going to play little black jack."
"Certainly, Monsieur," he said, pushing the black jack cards across the counter. We sat down and Pierre dealt while I stoked up my meerschaum pipe and got it going. The black jack was slow and painstaking, different to the game that I had played at the widow Dominique's the previous week and which I had enjoyed so much. But this was to be expected. Pierre cannot compete with Dominique in any way.

Cezanne doesn't know from black jack

I noticed the man sitting across from us, very busy with his paints and brush and once I got up to see what he was painting. It was Pierre and I playing black jack. "What is it called and what is your name?" I asked.
"This is the Card Players, Monsieur and my name is Paul Cezanne."
"It is very good," I said, by way of a compliment."
"Thank you, Monsieur."
If anyone would like to see this painting of Pierre and I playing black jack it is hanging in the Louvre in Paris.