IV
By a clever movement,—simply upsetting a full plate over Prometheus,—he suddenly diverted the attention of the other two. Prometheus could not restrain an exclamation, and his voice after the others seemed so profound that one realized that up to this minute he had not spoken.
The irritation of Damocles and Cocles joined forces.
—But you say nothing—they cried.
PROMETHEUS SPEAKS
—Oh, gentlemen, anything that I can say has so little importance.... I do not really see how ... and then the more I think.... No, truly I have nothing to say. You have each of you a history; I have none. Excuse me. Believe me it is with the greatest interest that I have heard you each relate an adventure which I wish ... I could.... But I cannot even express myself easily. No, truly you must excuse me, gentlemen. I have been in Paris less than two hours; nothing has as yet happened to me, except my delightful meeting with you, which gives me such a good idea of what a conversation can be between two Parisians, when they are both men of talent....
—But before you came here, said Cocles.
—You must have been somewhere, added Damocles.
—Yes, I admit it, said Prometheus.... But again, once more, it has absolutely no connexion....
—Never mind, said Cocles, we came here to talk. We have both of us, Damocles and I, already given our share; you alone bring nothing; you listen; it is not fair. It is time to speak Mr....?
The waiter, feeling instinctively that the moment had come for the introduction, quietly slipped in the name to complete the sentence:
—Prometheus—he said simply.
—Prometheus, repeated Damocles.—Excuse me, sir, but it seems to me that that name already....
—Oh! interrupted Prometheus quickly, that is not of the slightest importance.
—But if there is nothing of importance, impatiently cried the other two, why have you come here, dear Mr.... Mr....?
—Prometheus, replied Prometheus simply.
—Dear Mr. Prometheus—as I remarked a while ago, continued Cocles, this restaurant invites conversation, and nothing will convince me that your strange name is the only thing that distinguishes you; if you have done nothing, you are surely going to do something. What are you capable of doing? What is the most distinguishing thing about you? What have you that nobody else possesses? Why do you call yourself Prometheus?
Drowned beneath this flow of questions Prometheus bent his head and slowly and in a serious voice stammered...:
—What have I, gentlemen?—What have I?—Oh, I have an eagle.
—A what?
—Eagle—Vulture perhaps—opinions differ.
—An eagle! That’s funny!—an eagle ... where is he?
—You insist on seeing it, said Prometheus.
—Yes, they cried, if it is not too indiscreet.
Then Prometheus, quite forgetting where he was, suddenly started up and gave a great cry, a call to his eagle. And this stupefying thing happened:
HISTORY OF THE EAGLE
A bird which from afar looked enormous, but which seen close to was not so very big after all, darkened for a moment the sky above the boulevard and sped like a whirlwind towards the café; bursting through the window, it put out Cocles’ eye with one stroke of its wing and then, chirruping as it did so, tenderly indeed but imperiously, fell with a swoop upon Prometheus’ right side.
And Prometheus forthwith undid his waistcoat and offered his liver to the bird.