—Lovely bird, what hast thou to tell me this morning?
—I have carried my hunger through the air.
—Eagle, wilt thou never be less cruel?
—No! But I may become very beautiful.
Prometheus, enamoured of the future beauty of his eagle, gave him each day more to eat.
One evening the eagle did not leave him.
The next day it was the same.
He fascinated the prisoner by his gnawings; and, the prisoner, who fascinated him by his caresses, languished and pined away for love, all day caressing his feathers, sleeping at night beneath his wings, and feeding him as he desired.—The eagle did not stir night or day.
—Sweet eagle, who would have believed it?
—Believed what?