"Canon," said the doctor, holding on to the arm of Dom Diégo with all his strength, "listen to me, I pray you."
"Vade retro, Satanas!" cried Dom Diégo, with horror, escaping from the doctor's hands.
And dragged along by the abbé, he was on the threshold of the door, when the physician cried:
"I will cook for you as much as you desire, and as long as I shall live, Dom Diégo. Grant me five minutes, and I will prove what I declare. Five minutes, what do you risk?"
At the magic words, "I will cook for you as much as you desire," the canon seemed nailed to the door-sill, and did not advance a step, in spite of the efforts of the abbé, who was too exhausted to struggle against the weight of such a large man.
"You certainly are stupid!" cried the abbé, losing control of himself, "what a fool you are to have any dealings with him!"
"Grant me five minutes, Dom Diégo," urged the doctor, "and, if I do not convince you of the reality of my promises, then give free course to your vengeance. I repeat, what do you risk? I only ask a poor five minutes."
"In fact," said the canon, turning to the abbé, "what would I risk?"
"Go, you risk nothing!" cried the abbé, pushed to the extreme by the weakness of the canon; "from this moment you are lost, a scoff and a jeer. Go, go, throw yourself into the jaws of this monster, thrice dull brute that you are!"
These unfortunate words, uttered by the abbé in anger, wounded the pride of Dom Diégo to the quick, and he replied, with an offended air: