(Here the voice of Prometheus was barely heard in the tumult)--but if you do not feed your eagle lovingly he will remain grey and miserable, invisible to all and sly; then you will call him conscience, not worthy of the torments he causes; without beauty.--Gentlemen, you must love your eagle, love him to make him beautiful; for it is for his future beauty that you must love your eagle....
Now I have finished, gentlemen, my eagle will make the collection. Gentlemen, you must love my eagle.--In the meantime I will let off some fireworks....
Thanks to the pyrotechnic diversion, the assembly dispersed without too much trouble; but Damocles took cold on coming out of the hall.
--You know that he is not at all well, said the waiter, seeing Prometheus a few days later.
--Damocles--Oh! very bad:--it was coming out after your lecture that he was taken ill....
--The doctors hesitate;--it is a very unusual illness ... a shrinkage of the spine....
--Yes, the spine.--At least, unless a miracle happens he must get worse. He is very low, I assure you, and you should go and see him.
--I? Yes, every day.--He is very anxious about Cocles; I bring him news every day.
--Why doesn’t Cocles go to see him himself?
--Cocles?--He is too busy. Don’t you remember your lecture? It has made an extraordinary effect upon him. He talks of nothing but self-devotion, and passes all his time looking in the streets for another blow, which may benefit some unknown Damocles. In vain he offers his other cheek.
--I give him news every day. That is really the reason why I visit Damocles every day.
--Why does he not go and see Damocles himself?
--That is what I tell him, but he refuses. He does not wish to be known. And yet Damocles would certainly get well immediately if he knew his benefactor. I tell him all this, but he insists upon keeping his incognito--and I understand now that it is not Damocles but his illness which interests him.
Not knowing him ourselves, we have decided not to say very much about the waiter’s friend, Zeus, but just to report these few remarks.
The waiter:--Is it not true that you are very rich?
The Miglionaire, half turning towards Prometheus:--I am richer than you can ever imagine. You belong to me; he belongs to me; everything belongs to me.--You think I am a banker; I am really something quite different. My effect on Paris is hidden, but it is none the less important. It is hidden because it is not continuous. Yes, I have above all the spirit of initiative. I launch; then, once the affair is set going, I leave it; I have nothing more to do with it.