—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...: