THE SAME, A GOLDEN PHEASANT, _later_ BRIFFAUT.
A GOLDEN PHEASANT
[_Flying suddenly over the wall, and dropping in the yard, mad with
fright._] Hide me!
CHANTECLER
Heavens!
PATOU
A golden pheasant!
GOLDEN PHEASANT
Is this great Chantecler?
THE BLACKBIRD
All over the shop, we’re famous!
GOLDEN PHEASANT
[_Running hither and thither._] Save me, if you are he!
CHANTECLER
I am!--Rely on me!
[_Another shot._]
GOLDEN PHEASANT
[_Jumping and casting himself on_ CHANTECLER.] Merciful powers!
CHANTECLER
But what a nervous bird it is--a golden pheasant!
GOLDEN PHEASANT
I have no breath left! I ran too hard!-[_Faints._]
THE BLACKBIRD
Puff!--Out goes his light!
CHANTECLER
[_Upholding the_ PHEASANT _with one wing._] How beautiful he is, with
drooping neck and softly ruffled throat-feathers! [_He runs to the
drinking-trough._] Water!--One almost hesitates to dim such beauty with
a wetting--[_He splashes him vigorously with his other wing._]
THE GOLDEN PHEASANT
[_Coming to._] I am pursued! Oh, hide me!
THE BLACKBIRD
“And the villain still--” Here’s melodrama!
[_To the_ PHEASANT.] How the dickens did he manage to miss you?
THE PHEASANT
Surprise!--The huntsman was looking for a little grey lark. Seeing me
rise, he cried, “Thunder!” He saw but a flash of gold, and I a flash of
fire.--But the dog is chasing me, a horrible dog--[_Seeing_ PATOU _he
quickly adds._] I am speaking of a hunting-dog! [_To_ CHANTECLER.]
Hide me!
CHANTECLER
The trouble is he is so conspicuous. That increases our dilemma. Where
can he lie concealed?--Gentle sir, my lord, most noble stranger, where
might we hope to hide the rainbow, supposing it in danger?
PATOU
There by the bench with the beehives stands my green cottage, very much
at your service.--Go in, I pray! [_The_ GOLDEN PHEASANT _goes in, but
his long tail projects._] There is too much of this golden vanity!--The
tip is still in sight.--I shall have to sit on it.
[BRIFFAUT _appears above the wall. Long hanging ears and quivering
chops._]
PATOU
[_To_ BRIFFAUT, _affecting unconcern._] Good afternoon!
BRIFFAUT
[_Snuffing._] Humph, what a good smell!
PATOU
[_Pointing to his bowl._] My poor dinner! Soup with seasonable
vegetables.
BRIFFAUT
[_Hurriedly._] Have you seen a pheasant-hen go by?
PATOU
[_In astonishment, reflecting._] A pheasant-hen,--?
CHANTECLER
[_Walking about, with an assumption of gaiety._] Impressive, isn’t he,
Briffaut there? with his look of a thoroughbred old Englishman!
PATOU
No, but I saw a pheasant.
BRIFFAUT
That was she!
PATOU
A pheasant-hen wears dun. This was a golden pheasant He went off towards
the meadow.
BRIFFAUT
It is she!
CHANTECLER
[_Going towards him, incredulous._] A pheasant-hen with golden plumage?
BRIFFAUT
Ah, you do not know what sometimes happens?
CHANTECLER _and_ PATOU
No.
THE BLACKBIRD
We are in for a hunting yarn!--Give me chloroform!
BRIFFAUT
It sometimes happens--the thing is exceptional, of course--My master
knows because he has read about it.--It sometimes happens--An
extraordinary phenomenon to be sure! which is likewise observed among
moor-fowl.--It happens--
PATOU
What happens?
BRIFFAUT
That the pheasant-hen--Ah, my dear fellows--!
CHANTECLER
[_Stamping with impatience._] The pheasant-hen what?--what?
BRIFFAUT
Makes up her mind one day that the cock-pheasant goes altogether too
fine. When the male in springtime puts on his holiday feathers, she sees
that he is handsomer than she--
THE BLACKBIRD
And it makes her sore!
BRIFFAUT
She leaves off laying and hatching eggs. Nature then gives her back her
purple and her gold, and the pheasant-hen proud and magnificent Amazon,
preferring to put on her back blue, green, yellow, all the colours of
the prism, rather than under a sober grey wing to shelter a brood of
young pheasants, flies freely forth--Light-mindedly she sheds the
virtues of her sex, and having done it--sees life! [_He sketches with
his paw a slightly disrespectful gesture._]
CHANTECLER
[_Dryly._] Pray, what do you know about it?
BRIFFAUT
[_Astonished._] Is he annoyed?
PATOU
[_Aside._] Already!
CHANTECLER
In short, the pheasant your master missed--
BRIFFAUT
Was a she!--[_He stops and scents the air._] Oh but!--
PATOU
[_Quickly, showing his dish._] You know, it’s my dinner you smell!
BRIFFAUT
It smells very unusually good.
CHANTECLER
[_Aside._] I don’t like that way his nose has of twitching.
BRIFFAUT
[_Starting upon another story._] Fancy such an instance as the
following--
THE BLACKBIRD
Holy Smoke! Here comes another!--Oh, I say, hire a hall!
[_A distant whistle is heard._]
CHANTECLER
[_Quickly._] You are whistled for!
BRIFFAUT
The deuce! Good evening! [_Disappears._]
PATOU
Good evening.
CHANTECLER
Gone, at last!
BLACKBIRD
[_Calling._] Briffaut!
CHANTECLER
Great Glory, what are you doing?
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Calling._] I have something to tell you!
BRIFFAUT
[_His head reappears above the wall._] Well--?
THE BLACKBIRD
Look out, Briffaut!
CHANTECLER
[_Low to the_ BLACKBIRD.] Do you make sport of our fears?
THE BLACKBIRD
You are losing something!
BRIFFAUT
What?
THE BLACKBIRD
Time!
BRIFFAUT
[_Disappearing with a snort of fury._] Wow!