A bird which from afar looked enormous, but which seen close to was
not so very big after all, darkened for a moment the sky above the
boulevard and sped like a whirlwind towards the café; bursting through
the window, it put out Cocles’ eye with one stroke of its wing and
then, chirruping as it did so, tenderly indeed but imperiously, fell
with a swoop upon Prometheus’ right side.
And Prometheus forthwith undid his waistcoat and offered his liver to
the bird.
V
There was a great disturbance. Voices now mingled confusedly, for some
other people had come into the restaurant.
--But for goodness’ sake, take care! cried Cocles.
His remark was unheard beneath the loud cries of:
--That! an eagle! I don’t think!! Look at that poor gaunt bird! That
... an eagle!--Not much!! at the most, a conscience.
The fact is that the great eagle was pitiful to see--thin and mangy,
and with drooping wings as it greedily devoured its miserable pittance,
the poor bird seemed as if it had not eaten for three days.
Others, nevertheless, made a fuss and whispered insinuatingly to
Prometheus: But, sir, I hope you do not think that this eagle
distinguishes you in any way. An eagle, shall I tell you?--an eagle, we
all have one.
--But ... said another.
--But we do not bring them to Paris, continued another.--In Paris it
is not the fashion. Eagles are a nuisance. You see what it has already
done. If it amuses you to let it eat your liver you are at liberty to
do so; but I must tell you that it is a painful sight. When you do it
you should hide yourself.
Prometheus, confused, murmured: Excuse me, gentlemen,--Oh! I am really
sorry. What can I do?
--You ought to get rid of it before you come in, sir.
And some said: Smother it.
And others: Sell it. The newspaper offices are there for nothing else,
sir.
And in the tumult which followed no one noticed Damocles, who suddenly
asked the waiter for the bill.
The waiter gave him the following:
_3 lunches (with conversation)_ Fr. 30.00
_Shop window_ 450.00
_A glass eye for Cocles_ 3.50
... and keep the rest for yourself, said Damocles, handing the
bank-note to the waiter. Then he quickly made off, beaming with joy.
* * * * *
The end of this chapter is much less interesting. Little by little
the restaurant became empty. In vain Prometheus and Cocles insisted
on paying their share of the bill--Damocles had already paid it.
Prometheus said good-bye to the waiter and Cocles, and going back
slowly to the Caucasus he thought: Sell it?--Smother it?... Tame it
perhaps?...