Said the citizen: "These be our Genius and our Critic."
"And what do they?" asked Gud.
To this the citizen replied: "The Genius talks words, and the Critic follows after, and, as the words fall from the lips of Genius, the Critic picks them up with the tongs of contempt and burns them in the brazier of public opinion."
"But why," asked Gud, "do the words of the Genius make a stench in their burning?"
"Because," said the citizen, "they are vile."
Gud doubted that which the citizen told him, and he quickened his steps and made bold to pass close to the Critic. Whereupon Gud, who could see all things, saw that the words of the Genius which the Critic picked up were not vile but beautiful; and that, when the Critic made a pass toward the brazier, he put the word not therein but dropped it instead into a wallet which he carried beneath his mantle.
Gud was angered and he grasped the fellow by his egotism and shook him until his conceit rattled and made inferential allegations of hypocrisy.
"What is it to you," demanded the Critic, "if I spit into the brazier to make a stench to please the people?"
"But what do you with the words of Genius?"
"By the holy name of Public Opinion! Why should a man do the work of a street cleaner on the salary of a critic?"