"Ah, my God! it is all up with me!" murmured the canon, terrified. "My presentiments did not deceive me; this appetite was too miraculous, these dishes, these wines, too supernatural not to have some awful mystery, some infernal magic in them." Just at this critical moment the canon fortunately saw his majordomo enter. "My lord," said Pablo, "the lawyer has just arrived; you know the lawyer who--" "Pablo, stop there!" cried Dom Diégo, seizing his majordomo by the arm and drawing him near to himself. "Do not leave me." "My God, sir! what is the matter?" said Pablo. "You seem to be frightened." "Ah, Pablo, if you only knew," said Dom Diégo, in a low, whining voice, without daring to turn his eyes away from the cook. "My lord," replied Pablo, "I told you the lawyer had arrived." "What lawyer, Pablo?" "The one who comes to draw up in legal form your demand for the arrest of Captain Horace, guilty of the abduction of Senora Dolores." "Pablo, it is impossible to occupy myself now with business. I have no head--I must be dreaming. Ah, if you only knew what had happened! This cook--oh, my presentiments!" "Then, my lord, I am going to send the lawyer away." "No!" cried the canon, "no, it is this miserable Captain Horace who is the cause of all my ills. If he had not destroyed my appetite, I should have already breakfasted this morning when this tempter in a white jacket introduced himself here, and I would not have been the victim of his sorcery. No," added Dom Diégo, in a paroxysm of anger, "tell this lawyer to wait; he shall write my complaint this very hour. But first let me get out of this awful perplexity," added he, throwing a frightened glance at the silent and formidable cook. "I must know what this mysterious being wants of me to terrify me so. Tell the lawyer to enter my study, and do not leave me, Pablo." The majordomo went to say a few words outside of the door to the lawyer, who entered an adjacent room, and the canon, the majordomo, and the cook remained alone. Dom Diégo, encouraged by the presence of Pablo, tried to reassure himself, and said to the man in the white jacket, who still preserved his unruffled and sardonic demeanour: "See, my good friend, let us talk seriously. It is neither a question of good or of bad angels, but of a man who possesses tremendous talent,--I am speaking of you,--whom I would like to attach to my household at whatever price it may cost. We were discussing the cellar of divine wines, for the acquisition of which I would esteem no sacrifice too much. I speak to you with all the sincerity of my soul, my dear and good friend; reply to me in the same way." Then the canon whispered to his majordomo: "Pablo, do you stand between him and me." "Then," replied the cook, "I will speak to you with equal sincerity, my lord canon, and first, let me repeat, I will be the desolation, the despair of your life." "You?" "I."