"It's time for my ambrosia. Return when the sun begins its descent. I'll give you and answer then.
He mused. He thought. He worried. He ate.
Delicious, this ambrosia. Not equivalent to his Mother's cooking. But certainly good enough for Zeus.
He carved the food carefully, munching on each savory bite. And as he carved a thought came to mind.
Okay, I've a solution. With my knife I shall rend the picture from top to bottom and each may keep his half."
He took picture, laid it on the table before him, face up, pulled out his hunting knife.
Bacchus rose, looked at the picture, then shrugged. "Very well, Sire. It will serve me just as well. It is but an ornament to decorate my wall."
Vulcan looked at Bacchus, at the picture, and then at Demo.
"No, I would have my picture. Still, let it remain whole. Though Bacchus may own it, it shall ever be mine. Better it decorate his wall in its entirety than suffer the sacrilege of dissection."
"Upon further thought, Master Vulcan, I consider the picture to be yours. You speak true, it is the picture of a maiden. All else is there only for her. And you would lose your masterpiece rather than see it destroyed. Take it."