—Shall I continue?
—Yes, please do.
—It seems to me quite possible that during lunch three people have time to become very well known to each other,—not losing too much time eating,—not talking too much; and avoiding trite topics; I mean to say mentioning only strictly individual experiences. I do not pretend that one is obliged to talk, but why come to this restaurant, where the food is bad, if conversation does not suit you?
Prometheus was very tired: the waiter leant over and whispered: That is Cocles. The one who is going to speak is Damocles.
Damocles said:
THE HISTORY OF DAMOCLES
Sir, if you had said that to me a month ago, I should have had nothing to say; but after what happened to me last month, all my ideas have changed. I will not speak of my old thoughts except to make you understand in what way I have changed.—Now, gentlemen, since thirty days I feel that I am an original, unique being, with a very singular destiny.—So, gentlemen, you can deduct that before I felt the contrary, I lived a perfectly ordinary life and made it my business to be as commonplace as possible. Now, however, I must admit that a commonplace man does not exist, and I affirm that it is a vain ambition to try to resemble everybody, for everybody is composed of each one, and each one does not resemble anybody. But never mind, I took the greatest pains to put things right; I drew up statistics; I calculated the happy medium—without understanding that extremes meet, that he who goes to bed very late comes across him who gets up very early, and that he who chooses the happy medium risks to fall between two stools.—Every night I went to bed at ten. I slept eight hours and a half. I was most careful in all my actions to copy the majority, and in all my thoughts the most approved opinions. Useless to insist.
But one day a personal adventure happened to me, the importance of which in the life of a well-ordered man as I was can only be understood later on. It is a precedent; it is terrible. And I received it.