CHANTECLER, _the_ PHEASANT-HEN, _from time to time the_ RABBITS, _now
and then the_ WOODPECKER.
CHANTECLER
How softly sleeps the moonlight on the ferns! Now is the time--
A LITTLE QUAVERING VOICE
Spider at night,
Bodeth delight!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Thanks, kind Spider!
CHANTECLER
Now is the time--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Close behind him._] Now is the time to kiss me.
CHANTECLER
All those Rabbits looking on make it a trifle--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Suddenly flaps her wings; the frightened_ RABBITS _start, on all sides
white tails disappear into rabbit-holes. The_ PHEASANT-HEN _coming back
to_ CHANTECLER.] There! [_They bill._] Do you love my forest?
CHANTECLER
I love it, for no sooner had I crossed its verdant border than I got
back my song. Let us go to roost. I must sing very early to-morrow.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Imperiously._] But one song only!
CHANTECLER
Yes.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
For a month I have only allowed you one song.
CHANTECLER
[_Resignedly._] Yes.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
And has the Sun not risen just the same?
CHANTECLER
[_In a tone of unwilling admission._] The Sun has risen.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
You see that one can have the Dawn at a smaller cost. Is the sky any
less red for your only crowing once?
CHANTECLER
No.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Well then? [_Offering her bill._] A kiss! [_Finding his kiss
absent-minded._] You are thinking of something else. Please attend!
[_Reverting to her idea._] Why should you wear yourself out? You were
simply squandering the precious copper of your voice. Daylight is all
very well, but one must live! Oh! the male creature! If we were not
there, with what sad frequency he would be fooled!
CHANTECLER
[_With conviction._] Yes, but you are there, you see.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
It is barbarous anyhow to keep up a perpetual cockaduddling when I am
trying to sleep.
CHANTECLER
[_Gently correcting her._] Doodling, dearest.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Duddling is correct.
CHANTECLER
Doodling.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Raising her head toward the top of the tree and calling._] Mr.
Woodpecker! [_To_ CHANTECLER.] We will ask the learned gentleman in the
green coat. [_To the_ WOODPECKER _the upper half of whose figure appears
at a round hole high up in the tree trunk; his coat is green, his
waistcoat buff, and he wears a red skull-cap._] Do you say cockaduddling
or cockadoodling?
THE WOODPECKER
[_Bending a long professorial bill._] Both.
CHANTECLER _and the_ PHEASANT-HEN
[_Turning to each other, triumphantly._] Ah!
THE WOODPECKER
Duddling is more tender, doodling more poetic. [_He disappears._]
CHANTECLER
It is for you I cockaduddle!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Yes, but you cockadoodle for the Dawn!
CHANTECLER
[_Going toward her._] I do believe you are jealous!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Retreating coquettishly._] Do you love me more than her?
CHANTECLER
[_With a cry of warning._] Be careful, a snare!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Jumping aside._] Ready to spring! [_Dimly visible against a tree, is,
in fact, a spread bird-net._]
CHANTECLER
[_Examining it._] A dangerous contrivance.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Forbidden by the game-laws of 44.
CHANTECLER
[_Laughing._] Do you know that?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
You seem to forget that the object of your affections comes under the
head of game.
CHANTECLER
[_With a touch of sadness._] It is true that we are of different kinds.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Returning to his side with a hop._] I want you to love me more than
her. Say it’s me you love most. Say it’s me!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Reappearing._] I!
CHANTECLER
[_Looking up._] Not in a love-scene.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To the_ WOODPECKER.] See here,--you! Be so kind another time as to
knock!
WOODPECKER
[_Disappearing._] Certainly. Certainly.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To_ CHANTECLER.] He has a bad habit of thrusting his bill between the
bark and the tree, but he is a rare scholar, exceptionally well
informed--
CHANTECLER
[_Absent-mindedly._] On what subjects?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
The language of birds.
CHANTECLER
Indeed?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
For, you know, the birds when they say their prayers speak the common
language, but when they chat together in private they use a twittering
dialect, wholly onomatopoetic.
CHANTECLER
They talk Japanese. [_The_ WOODPECKER _knocks three times with his bill
on the tree: Rat-tat-tat!_] Come in!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Appearing, indignant._] Japanese, did you say?
CHANTECLER
Yes. Some of them say, Tio! Tio! and others say Tzoui! Tzoui!
THE WOODPECKER
Birds have talked Greek ever since Aristophanes!
CHANTECLER
[_Rushing to the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] Oh, for the love of Greek! [_They
bill._]
THE WOODPECKER
Know, profane youth, that the Black-chat’s cry Ouis-ouis-tra-tra, is a
corruption of the word Lysistrata! [_Disappears._]
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To_ CHANTECLER.] Will you never love anyone but me?
[THE WOODPECKER’S _knock is heard: Rat-tat-tat._]
CHANTECLER
Come in!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To_ CHANTECLER.] Do you promise?
THE WOODPECKER
[_Appears, soberly nodding his red cap._] Tiri-para! sings the small
sedge-warbler to the reeds. Incontrovertibly from the Greek. _Para,_
along, and the word water is understood. [_Disappears._]
CHANTECLER
He has Greek on the brain!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Reverting to her idea._] Am I the whole, whole world to you?
CHANTECLER
Of course you are, only--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
In my green-sleeved Oriental robe, I look to you--how do I look?
CHANTECLER
Like a living commandment ever to worship that which comes from the
East.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Exasperated._] Will you stop thinking of the light of day, and think
only of the light in my eyes?
CHANTECLER
I shall never forget, however, that there was a morning when we believed
equally in my Destiny, and that in the radiant hour of dawning love you
forgot, and allowed me to forget, your gold for the gold of the Dawn!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
The Dawn! Always the Dawn! Be careful, Chantecler I shall do something
rash! [_Going toward the Back._]
CHANTECLER
You will infallibly do as you like.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
In the glade not long ago I met the--[_She catches herself and stops
short, intentionally._]
CHANTECLER
[_Looks at her, and in an angry cry._] The Pheasant? [_With sudden
violence._] Promise me that you will never again go to the glade!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Assured of her power over him, with a bound returns to his side._] And
you, promise that you will love me more than the Light!
CHANTECLER
[_Sorrowfully._] Oh!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
That you will not sing--
CHANTECLER
More than one song, we have settled that point. [_Rat-tat-tat, from the_
WOODPECKER.] Come in!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Appearing and pointing with his bill at the net._] The snare! The
farmer placed it there. He declared he would capture the Pheasant-hen.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
He flatters himself!
THE WOODPECKER
And that he would keep you on his farm.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Indignant._] Alive? [_To_ CHANTECLER, _in a tone of reproach._] Your
farm!
CHANTECLER
[_Seeing a_ RABBIT _who has returned to the edge of his hole._] Ah,
there comes a Rabbit!
THE RABBIT
[_Showing the snare to the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] You know if you put your foot
on that spring--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_In a tone of superiority._] I know all about snares, my little man. If
you put your foot on that spring, the thing shuts. I am afraid of
nothing but dogs. [_To_ CHANTECLER.] On your farm, which you secretly
yearn for.
CHANTECLER
[_In a voice of injured innocence._] I?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To the_ RABBIT, _giving him a light tap with her wing to send him
home._] Afraid of nothing but dogs. And since you put me in mind of it,
I think I must go and perplex their noses, by tangling my tracks all
among the grass and underwoods.
CHANTECLER
That’s it, you go and fool the dogs!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Starts of, then returns._] You are homesick for that wretched old farm
of yours?
CHANTECLER
I? I? [_She goes off. He repeats indignantly._] I? [_Watching her out of
sight, then, dropping his voice, to the_ WOODPECKER.] She is not coming
back, is she?
THE WOODPECKER
[_Who from his high window in the tree can look off._] No.