"Eh, eh! A young man such as you should not pronounce the word 'guillotine!' This red lead, my son, preserves society from degeneration, conspiracies, epidemics. It is more precious than the philosopher's stone; more powerful than a marshal's staff. It is the pillar on which rests the peace of the whole land."
"Just let me hear what miracles your enchanted wand has effected on my poor verses?"
"It has done its duty. Do you suppose that lines like 'Men enclosed within narrow walls are ashamed to love one another' may see the light? Humph! to love in the sense of your fine heroes one might well be ashamed! Running after gypsy girls, without the sanction of a priest, without wedlock—all unfettered—a pretty incentive to the young who would read it!"
"But, my dear sir, that is not my intention. As the dramatic development proceeds, I purpose to show up my hero's wrong-doing, for which he has to atone."
The death's-head was discomfited. He was not prepared for this reply.
"Oh, so they are the adventurer's opinions? Then you should have made a foot-note stating that they are not the author's views, and that the offender will atone for them later on. But listen again: 'He' (that is, the citizen) 'basely sells his freedom, bows his head to the dust before his fetich, and by his importunity wrests from it gold and fetters!' Now, is it permissible to put this in black and white? What 'freedom' does he sell? and to whom does he sell it? No one in Russia has freedom; consequently neither can he sell it to any one! It is a revolutionary appeal. An incitement to anarchy! A proclamation! And then, 'bows his head to the dust before his fetich.' Who is this fetich? The Czar or the holy images? Do you want to provoke the people to iconoclasm? But it is worse than blasphemy. In former times you would have had your tongue torn out for such words. And again: 'By importunity wrests gold and fetters.' A calumny upon our thirteen official grades! Fetters! Thorough Jacobin heresy! So the fetters offend you? Without them you were wolves and no men! Nor do you need to importune for them; they are conceded without it, of grace! You must have fetters—must, I say! It is in vain to versify against them! Did not my red pencil strike out those three lines, I should deserve to have it bored through my nose!"
And, upon this awful possibility, he began applying the said fateful pencil with dire force to expunge the offending lines.
"But I do not permit you to strike those lines out of my poem. I would rather withdraw it from publication."
"But I will not give it back!" returned the death's-head, placing a hand upon the manuscript. "What is once presented to my censure can no more be withdrawn! It must receive the deserved castigation!"
"And I protest against the striking out of any single letter of it! The manuscript is mine; it is as much my individual property as is that red pencil yours. You are at liberty to reject my writings, but not to deface them with your confounded chalk!"