He produced a penknife from his vest pocket, and handing it to the porter and pointing to the portrait, said:
“Cut off her head.”
“I?” stammered the porter.
“Yes.”
The poor man trembled at the idea of committing such a profanation.
“But, for God’s sake, Don Paco! I have children!”
“Cut off her head,” repeated the bold revolutionist contumaciously.
“See here, Don Paco, they say that this portrait is very well painted.”
“Impossible,” replied Don Paco, with a gesture worthy of Saint-Just. “It was executed by a servile artist.”
Then the porter, moaning and groaning, buried the penknife in the canvas, and split it with a trembling hand.