Oh, this is horrible--it must not be! I'll shoot the bolt
and barricade the door.

[CONRAD _places himself before it, and addresses his Mother in a tone
of incisive irony._

_Con._ Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late? is't thus that
you the Roman Matron play? Trick not a statute of your own devising.
Come, your official's waiting--let him in! (C's. M. _shrinks back
appalled._) So? you refuse!--(_throwing open door_)--then--enter,
Scissorman!

_[Enter the_ Scissorman, _masked and in red tights, with his hand upon
the hilt of his shears._

_The S. (in a passionless tone)._ Though sorry to create
unpleasantness, I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman, which my
own eyes have marked between his lips.

_C's. M. (frantically)._ Thou minion of a meddling tyranny, go
exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!

_The S. (civilly)._ I've duties here that must be first performed.

_C's. M. (wildly)._ Take my thumbs for his!

_The S._ 'Tis not the law--which is a model of lucidity.

_Con. (calmly)._ Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited, and
they alone must pay the penalty.

_The S. (with approval)._ Right! Step with me into the outer hall, and
have the business done without delay.

_C's. M. (throwing herself between them)._ Stay! I'm a
Councillor--this law was _mine!_ Hereby I do suspend the clause I
drew.

_The S._ You should have drawn it milder.

_Con._ Must I teach a parent laws were meant to be obeyed? [_To_ Sc.]
Lead on, Sir. _(To his_ Mother _with cold courtesy.)_ Madam,--may I
trouble you?

_[He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ S.; _the door
is shut and fastened from without._ C's. M. _rushes to door which she
attempts to force without success._

_C's. M._ In vain I batter at a senseless door, I'll to the keyhole
train my tortured ear. _(Listening.)_ Dead silence!... is it over--or,
to come? Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?... Again! and
followed by the sullen thud of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...

_[The door is opened and_ CONRAD _appears, pale but erect,--N.B. The
whole of this scene has been compared to one in "La Tosca"--which,
however, it exceeds in horror and intensity._

_C's. M._ They send him back to me, bereft of both! My CONRAD!
What?--repulse a Mother's Arms!

_Con. (with chilling composure)._ Yes, Madam, for between us ever
more, a barrier invisible is raised, and should I strive to reach
those arms again, two spectral thumbs would p