I
—You know that he is not at all well, said the waiter, seeing Prometheus a few days later.
—Who?
—Damocles—Oh! very bad:—it was coming out after your lecture that he was taken ill....
—But what is the matter?
—The doctors hesitate;—it is a very unusual illness ... a shrinkage of the spine....
—The spine?
—Yes, the spine.—At least, unless a miracle happens he must get worse. He is very low, I assure you, and you should go and see him.
—You go very often yourself?
—I? Yes, every day.—He is very anxious about Cocles; I bring him news every day.
—Why doesn’t Cocles go to see him himself?
—Cocles?—He is too busy. Don’t you remember your lecture? It has made an extraordinary effect upon him. He talks of nothing but self-devotion, and passes all his time looking in the streets for another blow, which may benefit some unknown Damocles. In vain he offers his other cheek.
—Why not tell the Miglionaire?
—I give him news every day. That is really the reason why I visit Damocles every day.
—Why does he not go and see Damocles himself?
—That is what I tell him, but he refuses. He does not wish to be known. And yet Damocles would certainly get well immediately if he knew his benefactor. I tell him all this, but he insists upon keeping his incognito—and I understand now that it is not Damocles but his illness which interests him.
—You spoke of introducing me?...
—Yes, at once, if you like.
They went off immediately.