"Have all that you wish, my dear friend, but may I be for ever damned for my sins if I swallow a mouthful of what you are going to serve me. I understand myself, I think, and there is really an overweening pride in you--" "It is half-past eleven, my lord," said the cook, interrupting Dom Diégo, with majesty; "when the clock strikes noon you will breakfast." And the artist went out, accompanied by the majordomo. CHAPTER VII. After the disappearance of M. Appetite, this strange cook who offered his services with such superb assurance, the canon, left alone, said to himself, as he rose painfully from his chair and walked to and fro with agitation: "The arrogant self-confidence of this cook confounds me and impresses me in spite of myself. But if he thinks he is dealing with a novice in the knowledge of dainty dishes, he has made a mistake, and I will make him see it. Well, what a fool I am to be so much disturbed! Can any human power give me in five minutes the hunger that has failed me for two months? Ah, that accursed Captain Horace! What a pleasure it would be to me to put him under lock and key! To think that the only nourishment he would have would be the nauseous diet given to prisoners, watered by a glass of blue wine, as rough to the throat as a rasp, and as sour as spoiled vinegar. But bah! This scoundrel, accustomed, doubtless, to the frequent privations endured by mariners, is capable of being indifferent to such a martyrdom, and of preserving his insolent appetite, while I--Ah, if this cook has not told me a lie! But, no, no, like all the French he is braggart, he is full of pride! And yet his assurance seems to me conscientious. He has something, too, in his look, in his countenance, expressive of power. But, in fact, what is this man? Where does he come from? Can I trust myself to his sincerity? I recall now that, when I spoke to him of the impossibility of reviving my appetite, he replied, with a significant bow: 'My lord, perhaps I am a magician.' If there are magicians they are the sons of the evil spirit, and God keep me from ever meeting them! This man must be a real magician if he makes me eat. Alas, I am a great sinner! Satan takes all sorts of forms, and if--Oh, no, no, I shudder at the very thought! I must turn away from such doleful meditations!" Then, after a moment's silence, the canon added, as he looked at his watch: