I

It was a few days after this that Prometheus, denounced by the over-zealous waiter, found himself in prison for making matches without a licence.

The prison was isolated from the rest of the world, and its only outlook was on to the sky. From the outside it had the appearance of a tower. In the inside Prometheus was consumed by boredom.

The waiter paid him a visit.

—Oh! said Prometheus smiling, I am so happy to see you! I was bored to death. Tell me, you who come from outside; the wall of this dungeon separates me from everything and I know nothing about other people. What is happening?—And you, first tell me what you are doing.

—Since your scandal, replied the waiter nothing much; hardly anybody has been to the restaurant. We have lost a great deal of time in repairing the window.

—I am greatly distressed, said Prometheus;—but Damocles? Have you seen Damocles? He left the restaurant so quickly the other day; I was not able to say good-bye. I am so sorry. He seemed a very quiet person, well-mannered, and full of scruples; I was touched when he told me so naturally of his trouble.—I hope when he left the table he was happier?

—That did not last, said the waiter. I saw him the next day more uneasy than ever. In talking to me he cried. His greatest anxiety was the health of Cocles.

—Is he unwell? asked Prometheus.

—Cocles?—Oh no, replied the waiter. I will say more: He sees better since he sees with only one eye. He shows every one his glass eye, and is delighted when he is condoled with. When you see him, tell him that his new eye looks well, and that he wears it gracefully; but add how he must have suffered....

—He suffers then?

—Yes, perhaps, when people do not sympathize with him.

—But then, if Cocles is well and does not suffer, why is Damocles anxious?

—Because of that which Cocles should have suffered.

—You advise me then strongly....

—To say it, yes, but Damocles thinks it, and that’s what kills him.

—What else does he do?

—Nothing. This unique occupation wears him out. Between us, he is a man obsessed.—He says that without those £20 Cocles would not be miserable.

—And Cocles?

—He says the same.... But he has become rich.

—Really ... how?

—Oh! I do not know exactly;—but he has been talked about in the papers; and a subscription has been opened in his favour.

—And what does he do with it?

—He is an artful fellow. With the money collected he thinks of founding a hospital.

—A hospital?

—Yes, a small hospital for the one eyed. He has made himself director of it.

—Ah bah! cried Prometheus; you interest me enormously.

—I hoped you would be interested, said the waiter.

—And tell me ... the Miglionaire?

—Oh! he, he is a wonderful chap!—If you imagine that all that upsets him! He is like me: he observes.... If it would amuse you, I will introduce you to him—when you come out of this....

—Well, by the way, why am I here? Prometheus said at last. What am I accused of? Do you know, waiter, you seem to know everything?

—My goodness no, pretended the waiter. All that I know is that it is only preliminary detention. After they have condemned you, you will know.

—Well, so much the better! said Prometheus. I always prefer to know.

—Good-bye, said the waiter; it is late. With you it is astonishing how the time flies.... But tell me: your eagle? What has become of him?

—Bless me! I have thought no more of him, said Prometheus. But when the waiter had gone Prometheus began to think of his eagle.

HE MUST INCREASE BUT I MUST DECREASE

And as Prometheus was bored in the evening, he called his eagle.—The eagle came.

—I have waited a long time for thee, said Prometheus.

Why didst thou not call me before? replied the eagle.

For the first time Prometheus looked at his eagle, casually perched upon the twisted bars of the dungeon. In the golden light of the sunset he appeared more spiritless than ever; he was grey, ugly, stunted, surly, resigned, and miserable; he seemed too feeble to fly, seeing which Prometheus cried with pity.

—Faithful bird, he said to him, dost thou suffer?—tell me: what is the matter?

—I am hungry, said the eagle.

—Eat, said Prometheus, uncovering his liver.

The bird ate.

—I suffer, said Prometheus.

But the eagle said nothing more that day.