Every dish was put on his table first, and he had to taste each one of them first of all.
That of itself was a great dignity, surely! Every great man ought to order his table after a similar fashion. He ought to have a house-physician standing beside him at every dish, to say: "You are free to fill your distinguished stomach with that; but this, on the other hand, you are not so much as to look at."
Monsieur Heinrich was a disciple of Hahnemann, so he began to raise difficulties as early as the soup.
"Don't touch it, your Excellency!" said he. "It is poison. As the verse says: 'Ginger and saffron, nutmegs, cloves, and pepper only thicken the blood and clog the stomach.'"
The whole company laughed heartily, but they shovelled down their soup all the same.
The next dish was wild-boar's head stuffed with celery and truffles, and flanked with cold jelly.
Against this dish Heinrich was able to intone a whole litany when the master who invented it presented him with a small slice of it on a silver platter.
"The head of every beast is forbidden food," he said; "and as for the wild boar, no part of him is good, from hoof to scull. As for the truffle, it grows under ground, and brings those who eat it under ground; while celery inflames the blood, and gelatine neutralizes the gastric juices; it is no fit food for men."
At this the Starosta laughed more than ever.
"But you must take me at my word, gentlemen," insisted Heinrich. "I eat according to the principles of the immortal Hahnemann. That dish is poison to you, I say."