"Vulgar?" Arthur twirled the stem of a candied cherry: "They call a fable about a nose running away from home vulgar? No wonder you want to pen an ode to the Moscow censor's hemorrhoids. But on the other hand..."
Gogol slammed the ink bottle on the table, causing the ink to spread on the parchment in the shape of a beetle: "The point is they stupidly say 'The Nose' is not as elegant as 'Saint Alexey's Martyrdom'! They praise that rag-like ode as 'shining with the brilliance of faith'. Ha! In my opinion, it's just as well the sheen of years of oil on an Eastern Orthodox priest's robe."
"Calm down, Nikolai." Arthur spat the cherry pit onto a silver plate: "Though the editors of the Moscow Observer are indeed quite ignorant. If your nose could be considered vulgar, I wonder how they'd view Mr. Eld Carter's latest work."
"Eld Carter?" Gogol was initially taken aback, but quickly responded: "I almost forgot, you and Mr. Carter are old friends. What? Has he written to you lately?"
