I
I will not speak of public morals, for there are none, but this reminds me of an anecdote:
When, on the heights of the Caucasus, Prometheus found that chains, clamps, strait-waistcoats, parapets, and other scruples, had on the whole a numbing effect on him, for a change he turned to the left, stretched his right arm and, between the fourth and fifth hours of an autumn afternoon, walked down the boulevard which leads from the Madeleine to the Opéra. Different Parisian celebrities passed continually before his eyes. Where are they going? Prometheus asked himself, and settling himself in a café with a book he asked: “Waiter, where are they going?”
THE HISTORY OF THE WAITER AND THE MIGLIONAIRE
—If his lordship could see them coming and going every day as I do, said the waiter, he would also ask where do they come from? It must be the same place, as they pass every day. I say to myself: Since they always return they cannot have found what they want. I now wait for his lordship to ask me: What are they looking for? and his lordship will see what I shall reply.
Then Prometheus asked: What are they looking for?
The waiter replied: Since they do not remain where they go, it cannot be happiness. His lordship may believe me or not, and, coming nearer, he said in a low voice: They are looking for their personalities;—His lordship does not live here?...