"The first dish for Spiegeler--he has done his part well." "Ho, Kätchen, the first intestines for the reporter, because he is the priest who offers up the sacrifice." "Bravo, Spiegeler, lame, divine messenger of fame, Mercury without wings." Thus the voices resounded in confusion, and Spiegeler did, indeed, receive the first _fleck_ that was produced from the kettle. Blanden became attentive. These speeches concerned the critic who had attacked Giulia. "My dear Herr Spiegeler," one voice could be heard saying, in whose precocious, instructive tones he soon recognised the wise Salomon of the sea side, "I grant you all possible laurels, and also the first of the intestines; because critics are like the Roman _haruspices_ who, after the contemplation of entrails, can prophecy or speak the truth." "Hush, Salomon is speaking." "I also remark that I have not the honour of sharing your views as a critic, but still you are a man of intellect, and nothing is more interesting than when such men defend false views." "Excuse me," said Spiegeler, as he laid his fork aside, "I must beg for a proof that my view is false." "I am not in the humour now to prove anything," continued Salomon, "and you never are, for in your criticisms all proofs are wanting, as, indeed, in all such cases, it is just as Schiller says-- 'The Almighty blew And the Armada flew to every wind.' "Not of this, however, would I speak, but merely express an objection to your last sharp criticism; it had one trifling fault, it contained the opposite of what it had formerly said. But when a critic acts the part of a priest at the sacrifice, then, like the latter, he must also exhibit the most perfect purity. The Roman priests, when sacrificing, were obliged to be washed, sprinkled and perfumed so as to be worthy of their office." "Well, and what more," said Spiegeler; stamping angrily with his crutches, he rose and adjusted his spectacles. "Criticism is not infallible, but it has the privilege of acknowledging its faults; to-day it can blame what yesterday it praised; it suddenly looks upon things from another point of view, and all, gentlemen, depends upon the point of view! Everything advances and undergoes metamorphosis--and yet criticism should always remain stationary like a sculptured saint! What doctor does not alter his diagnosis after closer observation? To-day he discovers an organic disease where yesterday he only perceived a slight cold. Who would turn that into a reproach against him? We are deceived and bribed; the delusion disappears, it is no fault, it is progress. Criticism does not squint, it only sees more clearly to-day than yesterday." "There we have it," cried Salomon, "that is exactly fitted for this witches' kitchen! Do not the witches in 'Macbeth' say-- "'Fair is foul, and foul is fair Hover through the fog and filthy air.' "And to Mephistopheles the witch says--