—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: