"My lord canon!" replied the cook, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed in a threatening manner on the canon.
And he took a step toward Dom Diégo, who recoiled from him with an expression of pain.
"My lord canon, look at me well."
"I—I—am looking at you," stammered Dom Diégo, "but—"
"My lord canon, my face shall pursue you everywhere, in your sleep and in your waking hours! You shall see me always before you, with my cotton cap and white jacket, like a terrible and fantastic apparition."
"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."