CHANTECLER
He goes--?
THE BLACKBIRD
Yes, I am one of their ornaments.
PATOU
And I am not so sure but that some day--
CHANTECLER
What are you mumbling to your brass-studded collar?
PATOU
--some Hen may get you too to go!
CHANTECLER
Me?
PATOU
You!
CHANTECLER
Me?--
PATOU
Led by the end of your beak.
CHANTECLER
[_In high wrath._] Me?--
PATOU
For when a new Hen heaves in sight, you can't help yourself, you
know--you lose your balance-wheel--
THE BLACKBIRD
You slowly circumambulate the fair one--[_He imitates the_ COCK _walking
around a_ HEN.] "Yes, it's me.--Here I am!" And you say, "Coa--"
CHANTECLER
I never knew a more idiotic bird!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Continuing to mimic him._] You let your wing hang, sentimentally--your
foot performs a sort of stately jig--[_A shot is heard._] Ha! I don't
like that!
PATOU
[_Starts up quivering, and scents the air._] Poaching Julius is at his
tricks again!
THE BLACKBIRD
Dog, it seems to stimulate you agreeably!
PATOU
[_With ears up-pricked and shining eyes._] Yes! [_Suddenly, as if
controlling himself, passionately._] No--!
THE BLACKBIRD
What affects you so?
PATOU
Oh, horrible, horrible! A poor little partridge perhaps--
THE BLACKBIRD
Is that streaming eye, my friend, a result of age or rheumatism?
PATOU
Neither! But I have within me several dogs, and there is conflict amidst
me. My hunter's nostril twitches at a shot, but, directly, my
house-dog's memory raises before me a bleeding wing, the glazing eye of
a doe, the pathos of a rabbit's dying look--and I feel the heart of a
Saint Bernard waking in my breast! [_Another shot._]
CHANTECLER
Again?
SCENE FIFTH
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 sc
ents 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!
SCENE SIXTH
CHANTECLER, THE BLACKBIRD, PATOU, THE PHEASANT-HEN
CHANTECLER
[_After a moment, to the_ BLACKBIRD _who from his cage, which he has
returned, can see off over the wall._] Is he gone?
THE BLACKBIRD
He is nearly out of sight!
CHANTECLER
[_Going toward_ PATOU'S _kennel._] Madam, come forth!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Appearing at the threshold of the kennel._] Well?--A rebellious,
self-freed slave I am--even as that dog was saying! But of great
lineage, and proud as I am free--A pheasant of the woods!
THE BLACKBIRD
Whew! We hate ourself, don't we!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
In the forest where I live there comes a-poaching--
CHANTECLER
That madman who would have given to vile lead a jewel for setting!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Beneath foliage--not so thick but a sunbeam may glide in!--I make my
home. I am descended, however, from elsewhere. From whence? From Persia?
China? None can tell! But of one thing we may be certain: that I was
meant to shimmer in the blue among the fragrant gum-trees of the East,
and not to be chased through brambles by a hound!--Am I the ancient
Phoenix? or the sacred Chinese hen? Whence was I brought to this land?
And how brought? And by whom? History is not explicit on the point, and
leaves us a splendid choice. Wherefore I choose to have been born in
Colchis, from whence I came on Jason's fist. I am all gold. Perhaps I
was the Fleece!
PATOU
You?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
The Pheasant!
PATOU
[_Politely correcting her._] Pheasant-hen.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
I refer to my race, for which I stand, by token of my crimson shield.
Yes, my ancient fate of being a dead leaf beside a ruby, having appeared
to me one day too distinctly dull a lot, I stole his dazzling plumage
from the male. A good thing, too, for it becomes me so much better! The
golden tippet, as I wear it, curves and shimmers. The emerald epaulette
acquires a dainty grace. I have made of a mere uniform a miracle
of style!
CHANTECLER
She is distractingly lovely, so much is certain!
PATOU
He is never going to fall in love with a woman dressed as a man!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Who has again hopped down from his cage._] I must go and tell the
Guinea-hen that a golden bird has blown into town. She'll have a fit!
She will invite her! [_Off._]
CHANTECLER
So you come to us from the East, like the Dawn?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
My life has the picturesque disorder of a poem. If I came from the East,
it was by way of Egypt.
PATOU
[_Aside, heart-broken._] A gypsy, on top of the rest!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To_ CHANTECLER, _tossing and twisting her head so that the colours
ripple at her throat._] Have you noticed these two shades? They are our
own especial colours--the Dawn's and mine! Princess of the underbrush,
queen of the glade, I am pleased to wear the yellow locks of an
adventuress. Dreamy and homesick for my unknown home, I choose my
palaces among the rustling flags and withered irises that fringe the
pool. I dote upon the forest, and when it smells in autumn of dead
leaves and decaying wood--
PATOU
[_In consternation._] She is mad!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Wild as a tree-bough in a southerly gale, I tremble, flutter, spend
myself in motion, till a vast languor overtakes me--
CHANTECLER
[_Who for a minute or so has been letting his wing hang, now begins
slowly circling about the_ PHEASANT-HEN, _in the manner of the_
BLACKBIRD _aping him, with a very gentle, throaty._] Coa--[_The_
PHEASANT-HEN _looks at him. Believing himself encouraged, he takes up
again louder, while circling about her._] Coa--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
My dear sir, I prefer to tell you at once that if it is for my benefit
you are doing that--
CHANTECLER
[_Stopping short._] What?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
The eye--the peculiar gait--the drooping wing--the "Coa--"
CHANTECLER
But I--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
You do it all very nicely, I admit; only, it has not the very slightest
effect upon me!
CHANTECLER
[_Slightly abashed._] Madam--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Oh, I understand, of course. We are the illustrious Cock! Not a Hen in
the world but preens her feathers in the hope--the very touching hope,
certainly--of offering us a moment's distraction, some day, between two
songs. We are so sure of ourself that we never hesitate, not even when
the lady is a visitor, and not quite the ordinary short-kirtled Hen whom
one can engage without further ceremony by such advances--
CHANTECLER
But--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
I do not bestow my affections quite so lightly. For my taste, anyhow,
you are altogether too frankly Cock of the Walk!
CHANTECLER
Too--?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Spoiled! The only Cock to my fancy would be a plain inglorious Cock to
whom I should be all in all.
CHANTECLER
But--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Love a celebrated Cock? I am not such a very woman!
CHANTECLER
But--well--still--We might, however, Madam, take a little stroll together!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Yes, like two friends.
CHANTECLER
Two friends.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Two chickens.
CHANTECLER
Very old!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Quickly._]
No, no--not old! Very ugly!
CHANTECLER
[_Quicker still._] Oh, no, not ugly! [_Coming nearer to her._] Will you
take a turn in the yard?--Accept my wing!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
You shall show me the sights.
CHANTECLER
[_Stopping before the_ CHICKENS' _drinking-trough._]This, of course, is
hideous. It is a model drinking-trough on the siphon principle, made of
galvanised iron. But everything excepting that is charming, noble, time
and weather worn, from the hen-house roof to the stable door--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Returning._] The Guinea-hen is having a fit!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To_ CHANTECLER, _looking about her._] And so you live here untroubled,
and have nothing to fear?
CHANTECLER
Nothing whatever. Because the owner is a vegetarian An amazing man, a
lover of animals. He calls them by names borrowed from the poets. The
donkey there is Midas; the heifer, Io.
THE BLACKBIRD
The showman's on the job!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Indicating the_ BLACKBIRD.] And that?
CHANTECLER
Our humorist.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
What does he do?
CHANTECLER
Oh, he keeps busy!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Doing what?
CHANTECLER
Trying never to appear a fool, and that's hard work.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Possibly--but most unattractive! [_They move towards the back._]
THE BLACKBIRD
[_With a glance at the_ PHEASANT-HEN'S _scarlet breast._] Size up the
highfalutin' dame!--Get on to the waistcoat will you?
CHANTECLER
[_Continuing the round._] The hay-cock. The old wall. The wall, when I
sing, is alive with lizards, the hay-cock bends to listen. I sing on the
spot where you see the earth scratched up, and when I have sung, I drink
in the bowl over there.
PHEASANT-HEN
Your song then is a matter of importance?
CHANTECLER
[_Seriously._] The greatest.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Why?
CHANTECLER
That is my secret.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
If I should ask you to tell me?
CHANTECLER
[_Turning the conversation, and showing a pile of brushwood tied in
bundles._] My friends, the fagots.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Stolen from my forest!--So what they say is true?--you have a secret?
CHANTECLER
[_Dryly._] Yes, Madam.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
I suppose it would be useless to insist--
CHANTECLER
[_Climbing on the wall at the back._] And from here you can see the
remainder of the estate, to the edge of the kitchen-garden, where they
ply at evening a serpent ending like a sprinkling can.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
What?--This is all?
CHANTECLER
This is all.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
And do you imagine the world ends at your vegetable-patch?
CHANTECLER
No.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Do you never, as you watch, far overhead, the wedge of the south-flying
birds, dream of vaster horizons?
CHANTECLER
No.
PHEASANT-HEN
But all these things about you are dreary and poor and flat!
CHANTECLER
And I can never become used to the richness and wonder of these things!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
It is always the same, you must agree!
CHANTECLER
Nothing is ever the same,--nothing,--ever,--under the sun! And that
because of the sun!--For _She_ changes everything!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
She--Who?
CHANTECLER
Light, the universal goddess! That geranium planted by the farmer's wife
is never twice the same red! And that old wooden shoe, spurting straw,
what a sight, what a beautiful sight! And the wooden comb hanging among
the farmer's smocks, with the green hair of the sward caught in its
teeth! The pitchfork, stood in the corner, like a misbehaving child,
dozing as he stands and dreaming of the hay-fields! And the bowl and
skittles there,--the trim-waisted skittles, shapely maids, whose orderly
quadrilles Patou in his gambols clumsily upsets! The great worm-eaten
bowl whose curved expanse some ant is always crossing, travelling with
no less pride than famed explorers,--around her ball in 80
seconds!--Nothing, I tell you, is two instants quite the same!--And I,
sweet lady, have been so susceptible ever, that a garden-rake in a
corner, a flower in a pot, cast me long since into a helpless ecstasy,
and that from gazing at a morning-glory I fell into the startled
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