French fiction -- 19th century; Prometheus (Greek deity) -- Fiction
The crowd, now unbridled in its agitation, became more and more
tumultuous. On all sides one heard the questions: What did he
say?--What did he do?--Who was that woman?--And when, a few minutes
later, the evening papers appeared, a furious curiosity swept over them
like a cyclone, and it was suddenly divulged that the woman was Angèle,
and that this Meliboeus was a naked person who was going to Italy.
Then, all their curiosity having died down, the crowd streamed off like
water flowing away and the main boulevards were deserted.
And Tityrus found himself alone, completely surrounded by the swamp.
Let us grant that I have said nothing.
* * * * *
An irrepressible laughter shook the audience for several seconds.
--Gentlemen, I am happy that my story has amused you, said Prometheus,
laughing also. Since the death of Damocles I have found the secret of
laughter. For the present I have finished, gentlemen. Let the dead bury
the dead and let us go quickly to lunch.
He took the waiter by one arm and Cocles by the other; they all left
the cemetery; after passing the gates, the rest of the assembly
dispersed.
--Pardon me, said Cocles. Your story was charming, and you made us
laugh.... But I do not quite understand the connexion....
--If there had been more you would not have laughed so much, said
Prometheus. Do not look for too much meaning in all this. I wanted
above all to distract you, and I am happy to have done so; surely I
owed you that? I wearied you so the other day.
They found themselves on the boulevards.
--Where are we going? said the waiter.
--To your restaurant, if you do not mind, in memory of our first
meeting.
--You are passing it, said the waiter.
--I do not recognize it.
--It is all new now.
--Oh, I forgot!... I forgot that my eagle.... Don’t trouble: he will
never do it again.
--Is it true, said Cocles, what you say?
--What?
--That you have killed him?
--And that we are going to eat him?... Do you doubt it? said
Prometheus. Have you looked at me?--When he was alive, did I dare to
laugh?--Was I not horribly thin?
--Certainly.
--He fed on me long enough. I think now that it is my turn.
--A table! Sit down! Sit down, gentlemen!
--Waiter, do not serve us: as a last remembrance, take the place of
Damocles.
* * * * *
The meal was more joyful than it is possible to say. The eagle was
found to be delicious, and at dessert they all drank his health.
--Has he then been useless? asked one.
--Do not say that, Cocles!--his flesh has nourished us.--When I
questioned him he answered nothing, but I eat him without bearing him
a grudge: if he had made me suffer less, he would have been less fat;
less fat, he would have been less delectable.
--Of his past beauty, what is there left.
--I have kept all his feathers.
* * * * *
_It is with one of them that I write this little book. May you, rare
friend, not find it too foolish._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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