CHAPTER IV
THE CDT-TABLE AND THE CHALLENGING GLOVES
The coming home of young Squire Casimir was celebrated with great solemnity at the palace of the Starosta. The thunder of the mortars, the roll of the drums, the blare of the trumpets, announced to the thronging crowd the moment when the parade carriage rolled over the drawbridge. In front of the gate stood a guard of honour of the assembled heydukes, under the command of the Castellan. The Starosta himself had come as far as the hall door to welcome his son.
Casimir, according to ancient custom, received his father's greeting on bended knee, and kissed his uplifted hand, whereupon the old man, thrusting his powerful palm into his son's well-thatched poll, lugged him to his feet by his hair, and, slapping his face gently at the same time, said: "Come, come, you have put on a mighty fine fleece since last I saw you." But immediately afterwards he kissed him on both cheeks, and the kiss obliterated the slap.
Heinrich got neither kisses nor slaps, he simply didn't count at all.
A hundred guests were in the large hall, all of them prominent noblemen and priests, and all of them embraced the young gentleman in turn, while Heinrich they only patted on the shoulder, and while every one said: "_Vitam pana!_"[16] to the nobleman's son, they only greeted the son of the pastor with: "_Badz zdrow!_"[17]
[Footnote 16: "Long live your honour!"]
[Footnote 17: "Good health to you!"]
Immediately after the first interchange of greetings the court tailor took the two youths beneath his protection. It was his duty to give them new clothes corresponding to their rank, they had ceased to belong to the category of students. Heinrich got a brand-new black velvet jacket with puff sleeves, a starched ruff, black atlas knee-breeches, with stockings, and shoes with silver buckles--the whole get-up was completed by a sword-belt, a broad silver chain wound round the breast with a large medallion hanging to it, and a black flowered taffety mantle fastened to the shoulder and reaching to the heels. When he had taken a good all-round look at himself in the mirror, he was quite proud of his costume. He fancied that it was a great distinction.
But it was not a distinction, but only a difference.
When he entered the great hall, its pomp and grandeur almost blinded him. The walls of the room were embellished by the portraits of the Lords of Bialystok. There were armorial shields everywhere, and in the corners stood the figures of men in armour. The lofty pointed windows perpetuated, in masterpieces of coloured glass, all manner of ancient Polish legends. The long table was crowded with artistic plate and drinking vessels of chased gold and silver, with confect-holders mimicing the figures of giraffes and elephants. In the midst was a large fountain, at the foot of which enamelled dolphins cast lavender-water high up in the air; and the enchanting spectacle was but enhanced by the costumes of a whole army of guests and the splendour of their weapons.
Heinrich hardly recognized his dear friend Casimir. He was resplendent in such splendid raiment as the Polish magnates are only in the habit of wearing at coronations or similar ceremonies. In the midst of so much fur and velvet, Heinrich, in his simple black medical suit, felt almost like the inhabitant of another and much humbler planet. While the army of guests crowded round Casimir, so that every one might have a chance of embracing him at least once, Heinrich was simply thrust aside by an elbow or trodden on by one foot after another, and nobody even troubled to say: "_Wymow mie Pan!_"[18]
[Footnote 18: "Your pardon, sir!"]
Great was the crushing and pushing to get into the banqueting-hall, where every guest immediately sought out his proper place. This was quite an easy matter. Every guest who had ever dined at the Palace of Bialystok had his own beaker on which his name was engraved. As often as he returned thither so often was his particular beaker produced from the plate-chest. As for the spoons, knives, and forks, every guest brought his own with him. Aristocratic pride laid down this rule: "From the beaker out of which I drink none else may drink; the knife, fork, and spoon which touches my mouth none else may swallow--neither may I serve others so."
Heinrich would also have very much liked to know where he was to sit.
As a poor man he naturally began to look for his seat at the lowest end of the table.
At the head of the table a large armchair, carved with armorial bearings, had been placed, this was obviously the seat of the Starosta.
On each side of it stood two smaller armchairs. All the other chairs were armless. The arm of a chair is rather in the way when a man has to drain his beaker to the very dregs. At the head of the opposite end of the long table was the seat of "the little master." _His_ beaker was a christening gift, a crystal goblet upon a golden base.
Heinrich fancied that he would find his seat by the side of his comrade's. But there he found a beaker with another name upon it.
He had to seek higher. He went searching from chair to chair for a silver beaker marked with his name. On the right-hand side of the table there was no trace of it. Perhaps it was on the left-hand side? Of course, it must be there.
Again he began from the bottom and worked his way up, but he could find no trace of his name.
By this time he had got to the topmost armchair. Merely out of curiosity he glanced at the silver beaker placed beside the plate. He couldn't believe his eyes, and his heart began to beat violently, for on that beaker he read the name--Klausner. But his wonder only lasted for a moment. The Christian name was not Heinrich, but Gottlieb. This place of honour by the side of the Starosta belonged to the Lutheran clergyman, on the opposite side to him was the Catholic bishop.
Thus did they exalt the simple curer of souls, while his son, the doctor, was not even included among the guests.
Much hurt he turned to the Major Domo.
"Then am _I_ not invited to the banquet?" he asked.
"Invited, doctorkin! What a question! Of course you are. Why, you are the most important person here. Why, the banquet couldn't begin without you."
"But where am I to sit, then?"
"I'll show you immediately. But you must first let all the other guests take their places. All their honours are now assembled. We are only waiting for his reverence, your dear father."
"But he arrived along with us."
"True for you. But their honours come in their coaches or on horseback, so that they may not make their green or yellow boots muddy on the road, while your dear father came all the way on foot, so that he has to have his shoes polished before he can come in."
This was honour indeed. First of all, however, the pastor had to go and pay his respects to the Starosta, and he appeared along with him in the banqueting-chamber when the heydukes threw open the folding-doors. It was such a large door that three men could enter it abreast; and three men _did_ enter now, the master of the house in the centre, with the bishop on his right and the pastor on his left.
At the appearance of the Starosta the trumpets blew a flourish, and every guest took his proper place at the table.
Then the bishop pronounced a long grace in Latin, every one present murmuring the Doxology after him, except the Rev. Master Klausner, who belonged to another confession, and who, after the Latin prayer was over, pronounced a blessing in his own language:--
"_Der Herr segne euch und sattige euch!_"[19]
[Footnote 19: "The Lord bless you and satisfy you!"]
Then followed the creaking of chairs drawn forward, and every one settled comfortably into his place.
Heinrich wondered what was going to happen to _him_.
He had not to wait long. A couple of bustling heydukes brought forward a little three-legged table, covered with a fine linen cloth, and placed it behind the armchair of the Starosta. They also placed a chair by the side of this little table, and put upon it a silver trencher, a beaker, and the usual dining apparatus. His knife, spoon, and fork were much more costly than the knives, spoons, and forks of the other guests. The Major Domo, with his ivory wand, indicated to the doctor that that was his place. The body-physician always sits behind the Starosta. It is his office to exercise a dietetical and gastronomical superintendence at the magnate's table.
And that he might have a board-fellow, the big mastiff Caro now came up, and Heinrich being his best-known acquaintance, he put his head on the table--he was a big dog, so he could just reach it. He was determined that Heinrich should have a _vis-a-vis_, anyhow.
Heinrich tried to perform the duties of his queer office with due dignity.
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."