Luxury - Gluttony: Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"Do as I tell you, conduct M. Appetite to the kitchen, and if he has need of help, let some one help him."

"I have need of no one, sir, I am accustomed to work alone in my laboratory. I ask of you permission to shut myself in."

"Have all that you wish, my dear friend, but may I be for ever damned for my sins if I swallow a mouthful of what you are going to serve me. I understand myself, I think, and there is really an overweening pride in you — "

"It is half-past eleven, my lord," said the cook, interrupting Dom Diégo, with majesty; "when the clock strikes noon you will breakfast."

And the artist went out, accompanied by the majordomo.

CHAPTER VII

After the disappearance of M. Appetite, this strange cook who offered his services with such superb assurance, the canon, left alone, said to himself, as he rose painfully from his chair and walked to and fro with agitation:

"The arrogant self-confidence of this cook confounds me and impresses me in spite of myself. But if he thinks he is dealing with a novice in the knowledge of dainty dishes, he has made a mistake, and I will make him see it. Well, what a fool I am to be so much disturbed! Can any human power give me in five minutes the hunger that has failed me for two months? Ah, that accursed Captain Horace! What a pleasure it would be to me to put him under lock and key! To think that the only nourishment he would have would be the nauseous diet given to prisoners, watered by a glass of blue wine, as rough to the throat as a rasp, and as sour as spoiled vinegar. But bah! This scoundrel, accustomed, doubtless, to the frequent privations endured by mariners, is capable of being indifferent to such a martyrdom, and of preserving his insolent appetite, while I — Ah, if this cook has not told me a lie! But, no, no, like all the French he is braggart, he is full of pride! And yet his assurance seems to me conscientious. He has something, too, in his look, in his countenance, expressive of power. But, in fact, what is this man? Where does he come from? Can I trust myself to his sincerity? I recall now that, when I spoke to him of the impossibility of reviving my appetite, he replied, with a significant bow: 'My lord, perhaps I am a magician.' If there are magicians they are the sons of the evil spirit, and God keep me from ever meeting them! This man must be a real magician if he makes me eat. Alas, I am a great sinner! Satan takes all sorts of forms, and if — Oh, no, no, I shudder at the very thought! I must turn away from such doleful meditations!"

Then, after a moment's silence, the canon added, as he looked at his watch:

"See, it will soon be noon. In spite of myself, the nearer the fatal hour comes, the more my anxiety increases. I feel a strange emotion, I can admit it to myself. I am almost afraid. It seems to me that this man at this very hour is surrendering himself to a mysterious incantation, that he is plotting something superhuman, because to resurrect the dead and resurrect my appetite would be to work the same miracle. And this wonderful man has undertaken to work this miracle. And if he does, must I not recognise his supernatural power? Come, come, I am ashamed of this weakness. Well, I am indifferent, I prefer not to be alone, because the nearer the hour the more uncomfortable I am. I must ring for Pablo. (He rings.) Yes, the silence of this dwelling, the thought that this strange man is there in that subterranean kitchen, bending over his blazing furnace, like some bad spirit occupied with his sorcery, — all that gives me a strange sensation. Ah, so Pablo does not hear!" cried the canon, now at the highest pitch of uneasiness.

And he rang the bell again, violently.

Pablo did not appear.

"What does that mean?" murmured Dom Diégo, looking around him in dismay. "Pablo does not come! What a frightful and gloomy silence! Oh, something wonderful is happening! I dare not take a step."

Turning his ear to listen, the canon added:

"What is that hollow sound? Nothing human. Some one is coming. Ah, I have not a drop of blood in my veins!"

At this moment the door opened so violently that the canon screamed and hid his face in his hands, as he gasped the words:

"Vade — retro — Satanas!"

It was not Satan by any means, but Pablo, the majordomo, who, not having answered the two calls of the bell, was running precipitately, and thus produced the noise that the superstitious imagination of the canon transformed into something mysterious and supernatural.

The majordomo, struck with the attitude of the canon, approached him, and said:

"Ah, my God, what is the matter with you, my lord?"

At the voice of Pablo, Dom Diégo dropped his fat hands, which covered his face, and his servant saw the terror depicted in the master's countenance.

"My lord, my lord, what has happened?"

"Nothing, poor Pablo, — a foolish idea, which I am ashamed of now. But why are you so late?"

"Sir, it is not my fault."

"How is that?"

"I wished, sir, from curiosity, to enter this kitchen to see the work of this famous cook."

"Very well, Pablo?"

"After I assisted him in carrying his box, this strange man ordered me out of the kitchen, where he wished, he said, to be absolutely alone."

"Ah, Pablo, how he surrounds himself with mystery!"

"I obeyed, my lord, but I could not resist the temptation to stay outside at the door."

"To listen?"

"No, sir, to scent."

"Well, Pablo?"

"Ah, my lord, my lord!"

"What is it, Pablo?"

"Little by little an odour passed through the door, so delicious, so exquisite, so tempting, so exciting, that it was impossible for me to go away. If I had been nailed to the door I could not have been more immovable. I was bewildered, fascinated, entranced!"

"Truly, Pablo?"

"You know, my lord, that you gave me the excellent breakfast they brought to you this morning."

"Alas! yes."

"That breakfast I have eaten, my lord."

"Happy Pablo!"

"Well, sir, this odour of which I tell you was so appetising that I felt myself seized with a furious hunger, and, without leaving the door, I took from one of the shelves of the pantry a large piece of dry bread."

"And you ate it, Pablo?"

"I devoured it, my lord."

"Dry?"

"Dry," replied the majordomo, bowing his head.

"Dry!" cried the canon, raising his hands and eyes to heaven. "It is a miracle! He breakfasted an hour ago like an ogre, and now he has just bolted a piece of dry bread!"

"Yes, my lord, this dry bread, seasoned with that juicy odour, seemed to me the most delicious of morsels."

At this moment the clock struck noon.

"Noon!" cried the majordomo. "This marvellous cook instructed me to serve you, my lord, at noon precisely. The cover is already laid on the little table. I am going to bring it."