"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?"