—He is speaking of you, said the waiter.
—The eagle of Prometheus broke the window of the restaurant and put out Cocles’ eye.... Saved!!—Gratuitously, fortuitously, providentially! I will slip my bank-note into the interstices of these events. No more debt! Saved! Ah! gentlemen! what an error.... It was from that day that I became a dying man. How can I explain this to you? Will you ever understand my anguish? I am still in debt for this note, and now it is no longer in my possession! I tried like a coward to get rid of my debt, but I have not acquitted it. In my nightmares I awake covered with perspiration. Kneeling down, I cry aloud: Lord! Lord! to whom do I owe this? I know nothing of it, but I owe—owing is like duty. Duty, gentlemen, is a horrible thing; look at me, I am dying of it.
And now I am more tormented than ever because I have passed this debt on to you, Cocles.... Cocles! it does not belong to you that eye, as the money it was bought with did not belong to me. And what hast thou that thou didst not receive? says the Bible ... received from whom? whom?? Whom??... My distress is intolerable.
The wretched man spoke in short, sharp jerks; his voice grew inarticulate, choked as it was by gasps, sobs and tears. Anxiously Prometheus and Cocles listened; they took each other’s hand and trembled. Damocles said, seeming to see them:
Debt is a terrible duty, gentlemen ... but how much more terrible is the remorse of having wished to evade a duty.... As if the debt could cease to exist because it was transferred to another.... But your eye burns you, Cocles!—Cocles!! I am certain it burns you, your glass eye; tear it out!—If it does not burn you, it ought to burn you, for it is not yours—your eye ... and if it is not yours it must be your brother’s ... whose is it? whose? Whose??
The miserable man wept; he became delirious and lost strength; now and again fixing his eyes on Prometheus and Cocles he seemed to recognize them, crying:
—But understand me for pity’s sake! The pity I claim from you is not simply a compress on my forehead, a bowl of fresh water, a soothing drink; it is to understand me. Help me to understand myself, for pity’s sake! This which has come to me from I know not where, to whom do I owe it? to whom?? to Whom??—And, in order to cease one day from owing it one day, believing, I made with this a present to others! To others!!—to Cocles—the gift of an eye!! but it is not yours, that eye, Cocles! Cocles!! give it back. Give it back, but to whom? to whom? to Whom??
Not wishing to hear more, Cocles and Prometheus went away.