"At least, I will not be brute enough, Abbé Ledoux, to hesitate between the loss of five minutes, and the ruin of my hopes, as weak as they may be."
"As you please, Dom Diégo," replied the abbé, gnawing his nails with anger; "you are a good, greasy dupe to experiment upon. Really, I am ashamed of having pitied you."
"Not such a dupe, Abbé Ledoux, not such a dupe as you may suppose," said the canon, in a self-sufficient tone. "You are going to discover, and the doctor, too, for no doubt he is going to explain himself."
"At once," eagerly replied the doctor, "at once, my lord canon, and very clearly too, very categorically."
"Let us see," said Dom Diégo, swelling cheeks with an important air. "You discover, sir, that I have now powerful reasons for not allowing myself to be satisfied with chimeras, because, as the abbé has said, I would be a good, greasy dupe to permit you to deceive me, after so many cautions."
"Oh, certainly," said the abbé, in his great indignation, "you are a proud man, canon, and quite capable of fighting this son of Beelzebub."
"By which title you mean me, dear abbé," said the doctor, with sardonic courtesy. "What an ingrate you are! I come to remind you that you promised to dine with me to-day. Permit my lord canon, also,—he is not a stranger to our subject, as you will see."
"Yes, doctor," said the abbé, "I did make you this promise, but—"
"You will keep it, I do not doubt, and I will remind you, too, that this invitation was extended in consequence of a little discussion relative to the seven capital sins. Again, canon, I am in the question, and you are going to recognise it immediately."
"It is true, doctor," replied the abbé, with a constrained smile, "I would brand, as they deserve to be, the seven capital sins, causes of eternal damnation to the miserable beings who abandon themselves to these abominable vices, and in your passion for paradoxes, you have dared maintain that—"