THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Who has been keeping watch, warns him suddenly under breath._] Here she comes!

CHANTECLER [_With his bill in the flower._] Indeed?

THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Fluttering desperately._] Hush!

CHANTECLER The Ducks spent the night under the cart, did they?

THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r Pst!

SCENE FOURTH THE SAME, THE PHEASANT-HEN

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Who has come upon the scene, with a threatening gesture at the_ WOODp.e.c.k.e.r.] Go inside! [_The_ WOOD p.e.c.k.e.r _precipitately disappears.

She stands listening to_ CHANTECLER.]

CHANTECLER [_In the convolvulus, more and more deeply interested._] You don't mean it! What, all of them?--Yes?--No--Oh!--Well, well!--Is that so?

THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Who has timidly come back, aside._] Oh, that an ant of the heaviest might weigh down his tongue!

CHANTECLER [_Talking into the flower._] So soon? The Peac.o.c.k out of fashion?

THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Trying to get_ CHANTECLER'S _attention behind the_ PHEASANT-HEN'S _back._] Pst!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Turning around, furious._] You!--You had better! [_The_ WOODp.e.c.k.e.r _alertly retires, b.u.mping his head._]

CHANTECLER [_In the flower._] An elderly c.o.c.k?--I hope that the Hens--? [_With intonations more and more expressive of relief._] Ah, that's right!

that's right! that's right! [_He ends, with evident lightening of the heart._] A father! [_As if answering a question._] Do I sing? Yes, but far away from here, at the water-side.

THE PHEASANT-HEN Oh!

CHANTECLER [_With a tinge of bitterness._] Golden Pheasants will not long allow one to purchase glory by too strenuous an effort, and so I go off by myself, and work at the Dawn in secret.

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Approaching from behind with threatening countenance._] Oh!

CHANTECLER As soon as the beauteous eye which enthralls me--

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Pausing._] Oh!

CHANTECLER --closes, and in her surpa.s.sing loveliness she sleeps--

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Delighted._] Ah!

CHANTECLER I make my escape.

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Furious._] Oh!

CHANTECLER I speed through the dew to a distant place, to sing there the necessary number of times, and when I feel the darkness wavering, when only one song more is needed, I return and noiselessly getting back to roost, wake the Pheasant-hen by singing it at her side.--Betrayed by the dew?

Oh, no! [_Laughing._] For with a whisk of my wing I brush my feet clear of the tell-tale silveriness!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Close behind him._] You brush your--?

CHANTECLER [_Turning._] Ouch! [_Into the convolvulus._] No nothing! I--Later!--Ouch!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Violently._] So! So! Not only you keep up an interest in the fidelity of your old flames--

CHANTECLER [_Evasively._] Oh!

THE PHEASANT-HEN You furthermore--

CHANTECLER I--

THE BEE [_Inside the morning-glory._] Vrrrrrrr!

CHANTECLER [_Placing his wing over the flower._] I--

THE PHEASANT-HEN You deceive me to the point of remembering to brush off your feet!

CHANTECLER But--

THE PHEASANT-HEN This clodhopper, see now, whom I picked up off his haystack--and to rule alone in his soul is apparently quite beyond my power!

CHANTECLER [_Collecting himself and straightening up._] When one dwells in a soul, it is better, believe me, to meet with the Dawn there, than with nothing.

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Angrily._] No! the Dawn defrauds me of a great and undivided love!

CHANTECLER There is no great love outside the shadow of a great dream! How should there not flow more love from a soul whose very business it is to open wide every day?

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Coming and going stormily._] I will sweep everything aside with my golden russet wing!

CHANTECLER And who are you, bent upon such tremendous sweeping [_They stand rigid and erect in front of each other, looking defiance into each other's eyes._]

THE PHEASANT-HEN The Pheasant-hen I am, who have a.s.sumed the golden plumage of the arrogant male!

CHANTECLER Remaining in spite of all a female, whose eternal rival is the Idea!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_In a great cry._] Hold me to your heart and be still!

CHANTECLER [_Crushing her brutally to him._] Yes, I strain you to my c.o.c.k's heart--[_With infinite regret._] Better it were I had folded you to my Awakener's soul!

THE PHEASANT-HEN To deceive me for the Dawn's sake! Very well, however much you may abhor it, you shall for my sake deceive the Dawn.

CHANTECLER I? How?

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Stamping her foot; in a capricious tone._] It is my formal and explicit wish--

CHANTECLER But listen, dear--