V
There was a great disturbance. Voices now mingled confusedly, for some other people had come into the restaurant.
—But for goodness’ sake, take care! cried Cocles.
His remark was unheard beneath the loud cries of:
—That! an eagle! I don’t think!! Look at that poor gaunt bird! That ... an eagle!—Not much!! at the most, a conscience.
The fact is that the great eagle was pitiful to see—thin and mangy, and with drooping wings as it greedily devoured its miserable pittance, the poor bird seemed as if it had not eaten for three days.
Others, nevertheless, made a fuss and whispered insinuatingly to Prometheus: But, sir, I hope you do not think that this eagle distinguishes you in any way. An eagle, shall I tell you?—an eagle, we all have one.
—But ... said another.
—But we do not bring them to Paris, continued another.—In Paris it is not the fashion. Eagles are a nuisance. You see what it has already done. If it amuses you to let it eat your liver you are at liberty to do so; but I must tell you that it is a painful sight. When you do it you should hide yourself.
Prometheus, confused, murmured: Excuse me, gentlemen,—Oh! I am really sorry. What can I do?
—You ought to get rid of it before you come in, sir.
And some said: Smother it.
And others: Sell it. The newspaper offices are there for nothing else, sir.
And in the tumult which followed no one noticed Damocles, who suddenly asked the waiter for the bill.
The waiter gave him the following:
| 3 lunches (with conversation) | Fr. 30.00 |
| Shop window | 450.00 |
| A glass eye for Cocles | 3.50 |
... and keep the rest for yourself, said Damocles, handing the bank-note to the waiter. Then he quickly made off, beaming with joy.
The end of this chapter is much less interesting. Little by little the restaurant became empty. In vain Prometheus and Cocles insisted on paying their share of the bill—Damocles had already paid it. Prometheus said good-bye to the waiter and Cocles, and going back slowly to the Caucasus he thought: Sell it?—Smother it?... Tame it perhaps?...