"It is a very slow poison. For the last fifty years I've been killing myself with it, and yet here I am," cried the Starosta.
"Yes; but it is the cause of the gout in your knees, the colic in your stomach, the spasms in your side. You may also thank it for your sleepless nights and the humming in your ears, as well as for heartburn, erysipelas, and St. Vitus's dance. I, your house-doctor, certify that you partook of this poisonous dish at your own table, and indigestion and apoplexy are only a prayer apart."
But Casimir spoilt everything by his intervention. From the other end of the table he bawled to his comrade—
"Come, come, old chap! Surely you don't want to play the part of Doctor Pedro Recio de Tiertafuera at the banquet given by Sancho Panza, in his official capacity of Governor! All these gentlemen have read 'Don Quixote,' you know."
And with these words he regularly flung his comrade out of his doctorial chair. The whole company laughed heartily at him, and even the Rev. Pastor himself apostrophized his son with the facetious citation:—
"Descende Philippe, non sunt hic ollae!"
"Then why have I been put here?" inquired Heinrich, in great wrath, of the Major Domo.
"Why? Why, to taste of every dish, to see that there is no deadly poison in it which might make a man suddenly ill."
"Then the dog Caro here could perform my office equally well."
And henceforth Heinrich flung the cut-off portion of every dish presented to him to taste into the jaws of the mastiff, who snapped them up in an instant, and was highly delighted with his new duties.