"And, above all, a question of high civilisation and great policy, my lord canon," added the doctor, with an air so serious, so full of conviction, that he imposed on the canon, who cried: "Hold, doctor, if you could only demonstrate that--" "Do you not see that the doctor is making you ridiculous?" said the abbé, shrugging his shoulders. "Ah, I told you the truth, unhappy Dom Diégo; you are lost, for ever lost, as soon as you consent to listen to such foolery." "Canon," the doctor hastened to add, "let us resume our subject, not by reasoning, which, I confess, may appear to you specious, but by facts, by acts, by proofs, and by figures. You are both a glutton and superstitious. You have not the strength to resist your craving for good things; then, your gluttony satisfied, you are afraid of having committed a great sin, which sometimes spoils the pleasure of good cheer, and above all, injures the calmness and regularity of your digestion. Is this not true?" "It is true," meekly replied the canon, dominated, fascinated by the doctor's words, "it is too true." "Well, my lord canon, I wish to convince you, I repeat, not by reasoning, however logical it may be, but by visible, palpable facts and by figures, first, that in being a glutton, you accomplish a mission highly philanthropic, a benefit to civilisation and politics; second, that I can, and will be able to make you eat and drink, when you wish, with far more intense enjoyment than the other day." "And I, I say to you," cried the abbé, appalled by the doctor's assurance, "that if you prove by facts and figures, as you pretend, that to be a glutton is to accomplish a mission to humanity or high civilisation, or is a thing of great political significance, I swear to you to become an adept in this philosophy, as absurd and visionary as it appears." "And if you prove to me, doctor, that you can open again, and in the future continue to open the doors of the culinary paradise that you opened to me day before yesterday," cried the canon, palpitating with new hope, "if you prove to me that I accomplish a social duty in yielding myself up to gluttony, you will be able to dominate me, I will be your deputy, your slave, your thing." "Agreed, my lord canon, agreed, Abbé Ledoux, you shall be satisfied. Let us depart." "Depart?" asked the canon, "where?" "To my house, Dom Diégo." "To your house," said the canon, with an air of distrust, "to your house?" "My carriage is below," replied the doctor; "in a quarter of an hour we will arrive there." "But, doctor," asked the canon, "why go to your house? What are we going to do there?" "At my house, only, will you be able to find those visible, palpable proofs of what I have declared, for I have come to remind the dear abbé that to-day is the twentieth of November, the day of the investigation to which I have invited him. But the hour advances, gentlemen, let us depart."