[_The_ PEAc.o.c.k, _further off: "Ee--yong!"_]

PATOU More out of tune all by itself than a whole village singing society!

CHANTECLER Come, what have they done to you, that whistler and that posturer?

PATOU [_Grumbling._] They have done to me--that I know not what they may do to you! They have done to me--that among us simple, kindly folk they have introduced new fashions, the Blackbird of being funny, the Peac.o.c.k of putting on airs! Fashions which the latter in his grotesque bad taste picked up parading on the marble terraces of the vulgar rich, and the former--Heaven knows where! along with his cynicism and his slang. Now the one, travelling salesman of blighting corrosive laughter, and the other, brainless amba.s.sador of Fashion, their mission to kill among us love and labour, the first by persiflage, the second by display,--they have brought to us, even here in our peaceful sunny corner, the two pests, the saddest in the world, the jest which insists on being funny at any cost, and the cry which insists on being the latest scream! [_The _ BLACKBIRD _is heard tentatively whistling, "How sweet to fare afield"._] You, c.o.c.k, who had the sense to prefer the grain of true wheat to the pearl, how can you allow yourself to be taken in by that villainous Blackbird! A bird who practises a tune!

CHANTECLER [_Indulgently._] Come, he whistles his tune like many another!

PATOU [_Unwillingly agreeing, in a drawling growl._] Ye-e-es, but he never whistles it to the end!

CHANTECLER [_Watching the_ BLACKBIRD _hopping about._] A light-hearted fellow!

PATOU [_Same business._] Ye-e-es, but he lies heavy on our hearts. A bird who takes his exercise indoors!

CHANTECLER You must own he is intelligent!

PATOU [_In a longer, more hesitant growl._] Ye-e-e-es! But not so very! For his eye never brightens with wonder and admiration. He preserves before the flower--of whose stalk he sees more than of its chalice--the glance which deflowers, the tone which depreciates!

CHANTECLER Taste, my dear fellow, he unmistakably has!

PATOU Ye-e-e-es! But not much taste! To wear black is too easy a way of having taste! One should have the courage of colours on his wing.

CHANTECLER You will admit at least that he has an original fancy. No denying that he is amusing.

PATOU Ye-e-es--No! Why is it amusing to adopt a few stock phrases and make them do service at every turn? Why amusing to miscall, exaggerate, and vulgarise?

CHANTECLER His mind has a diverting, unexpected turn--

PATOU Ready but cheap! I cannot think it particularly brilliant to remark, with a knowing wink, at sight of an innocent cow at pasture, "The simple cow knows her way to the hay!" Nor do I regard it as evidence of notable mental gifts to answer the greeting of the inoffensive duck, "The quack shoots off his mouth!" No, the extravagances of that Blackbird, who makes me bristle, no more const.i.tute wit than his slang achieves style!

CHANTECLER He is not altogether to blame. He wears the modern garb. See him there in correct evening dress. He looks, in his neat black coat--

PATOU Like a beastly little undertaker who, after burying Faith, hops with relief and glee!

CHANTECLER There, there! You make him blacker than he is!

PATOU I do believe a blackbird is just a misfit crow!

CHANTECLER His diminutive size, however--

PATOU [_Vigorously shaking his ears._] Oh, be not deceived by his size! Evil makes his models first on a tiny scale. The soul of a cutla.s.s dwells in the pocket-knife; blackbird and crow are of the selfsame c.r.a.pe, and the striped wasp is a tiger in miniature!

CHANTECLER [_Amused at_ PATOU'S _violence._] The blackbird in short is wicked, stupid, ugly--

PATOU The chief thing about the Blackbird is--that you can't tell what he is!

Is there thought in that head? feeling in that breast? Hear him!

"Tew-tew-tew-tew tew--"

CHANTECLER But what harm does he do?

PATOU He tew-tew-tews! And nothing is so mortal to thought and sentiment as that same derisive tew-tewing, disingenuous and non-committal! Day by day, and that is why I roll my rs, I must witness this debasing of language and ideals. It's enough to produce rabies!

CHANTECLER Come, Patou!--

PATOU In their objectionable jargon, they have the ha-ha on all of us! I am no fastidious King Charles, but I dislike, I tell you, being referred to as His Whiskers!--Oh, to be gone, escape, follow the heels of some poor shepherd without a crust in his wallet, but at least, at evening drinking from the gla.s.sy pond, to have--oh, better than all marrow-bones!--the fresh illusion of lapping up the stars!

CHANTECLER [_Surprised at_ PATOU'S _having lowered his voice to utter the last words._] Why do you drop your voice?

PATOU You see?--If we speak of stars nowadays we must do it in a whisper! [_He lays his head on his paws in deep dejection._]

CHANTECLER [_Comforting him._] Be not downcast!

PATOU [_Lifting his head again._] No, it is too silly and too weak! I'll shout it if I please! [_He howls with the whole power of his lungs._]

Stars!--[_Then in a tone of relief._] There, I feel better!

CHICKENS [_Pa.s.sing at the back, mocking._] Stars!--Ho! Stars for ours! Stars!

[_They go off, fooling and giggling._]

PATOU Hear them! Our pullets will be whistling soon like blackbirds!

CHANTECLER [_Proudly strutting up and down._] What care I? I sing, and have on my side the Hens.

PATOU Trust not to the hearts of Hens--or of crowds. You are too willing to take the price of your singing in lip-service.

CHANTECLER But love--love is glory awarded in kisses!

PATOU Ah! I, too, was young once, I had my wilding devil's beauty,--an inflammatory eye, an inflammable heart. Well, I was deceived. For a handsomer dog?--No, they deceived me for a miserable cur!--[_Roaring in sudden wrath._] For whom?--For whom, do you suppose?

CHANTECLER [_Retreating._] You alarm me!

PATOU For a low-down dachshund who trod on his own ears!

THE BLACKBIRD [_Who has overheard_ PATOU'S _last words, sticking his head between the bars of his cage._] Still harping on the dachshund, is he? What's the odds, old chappie? You were the goat!--How does being the goat matter?

PATOU But you up there, scoffing at everything, who are you, may one ask?

BLACKBIRD I'm the pet of the poultry yard!

PATOU Bad luck is what you'll bring them!

BLACKBIRD A prophecy-sharp?--Say, wisteria, we are twisted up with laughter! [_He comes out of his cage and hops to the ground._]

PATOU [_As he approaches_] Grrrrrrr--

CHANTECLER Hush! He's a friend!

PATOU A false one.