The next day at sunrise Prometheus longed for his eagle; he called
it from the depth of the reddening dawn, and as the sun rose the
eagle appeared. He had three more feathers and Prometheus sobbed with
tenderness.
--How late thou comest, he said, caressing his feathers.
--It is because I cannot yet fly very fast, said the bird. I skim the
ground....
--Why?
--I am so weak!
--What dost thou want to make thee fly faster?
--Thy liver.
--Very well, eat.
The next day the eagle had eight more feathers and a few days after he
arrived before the dawn. Prometheus himself became very thin.
--Tell me of the world, he said to the eagle. What has happened to all
the others?
--Oh! now I fly very high, replied the eagle; I see nothing but the sky
and thee.
His wings had grown slowly bigger.
--Lovely bird, what hast thou to tell me this morning?
--I have carried my hunger through the air.
--Eagle, wilt thou never be less cruel?
--No! But I may become very beautiful.
Prometheus, enamoured of the future beauty of his eagle, gave him each
day more to eat.
One evening the eagle did not leave him.
The next day it was the same.
He fascinated the prisoner by his gnawings; and, the prisoner, who
fascinated him by his caresses, languished and pined away for love, all
day caressing his feathers, sleeping at night beneath his wings, and
feeding him as he desired.--The eagle did not stir night or day.
--Sweet eagle, who would have believed it?
--Believed what?
--That our love could be so charming.
--Ah! Prometheus....
--Tell me, my sweet bird! Why am I shut up here?
--What does that matter to thee? Am I not with thee?
--Yes; it matters little! but art thou pleased with me, beautiful eagle?
--Yes, if thou thinkest I am beautiful.