"And that is not saying a great deal," replied the housekeeper, with a sniff.
"What do you mean? How could the place get on without me? Where is the man in my position who does so much outside of his proper duties? When they are starting to the hunt, who always watches them depart? I do. Who always places the hawk on my lady's wrist? I do. Who else could do it to her satisfaction? No one. I taste everything that comes to the table, for no one else has so delicate a sense of taste or can so quickly detect the absence of the right flavor. And then I keep my eye on all the maids and pages to see that they do not idle away their time."
The housekeeper tossed her head scornfully. "As to placing the hawk on my lady's wrist, I can see no great amount of labor in that. As to 'tasting' the food as you do, which consists of dipping an amount from each dish, seasoning it well and eating it, I am sure there are plenty who would be glad to take your place and consider it no hardship. I notice too that you taste the wine which has been in the cellar for a hundred years, and which our master already knows all about. Do you consider that necessary?"
"Did you never hear, my good woman, of a poisonous drug being dropped into a bottle by a scoundrel of a servant?"
"No servant of this house ever has tried to poison his master."
"That is true, but who knows when such a thing might happen? It is always well to be prepared for the worst."
"Since you open the bottles yourself, none else has a chance to put in the poison," she replied, determined to argue the question into shreds.
"Even supposing that no one had an opportunity with the bottles," said the seneschal, "did you never hear of such a thing as chemical action?"
"No, and I want to know nothing of such Satan's work."
"Whether you know it or not, changes take place in liquids sometimes that make them most dangerous, and who can tell what has been going on in a pipe of wine that has had nothing to do for the last century but to get into mischief?"