Scene Fifth
The Same, a Golden Pheasant,laterBriffaut.
A Golden Pheasant[Flying suddenly over the wall, and dropping in the yard, mad with fright.] Hide me!
ChanteclerHeavens!
PatouA golden pheasant!
Golden PheasantIs this great Chantecler?
The BlackbirdAll over the shop, we’re famous!
Golden Pheasant[Running hither and thither.] Save me, if you are he!
ChanteclerI am!—Rely on me!
[Another shot.]
Golden Pheasant[Jumping and casting himself onChantecler.] Merciful powers!
ChanteclerBut what a nervous bird it is—a golden pheasant!
Golden PheasantI have no breath left! I ran too hard!-[Faints.]
The BlackbirdPuff!—Out goes his light!
Chantecler[Upholding thePheasantwith 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 thePheasant.] How the dickens did he manage to miss you?
The PheasantSurprise!—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—[SeeingPatouhe quickly adds.] I am speaking of a hunting-dog! [ToChantecler.] Hide me!
ChanteclerThe 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?
PatouThere by the bench with the beehives stands my green cottage, very much at your service.—Go in, I pray! [TheGolden Pheasantgoes 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.
[Briffautappears above the wall. Long hanging ears and quivering chops.]
Patou[ToBriffaut,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!
PatouNo, but I saw a pheasant.
BriffautThat was she!
PatouA pheasant-hen wears dun. This was a golden pheasant He went off towards the meadow.
BriffautIt is she!
Chantecler[Going towards him, incredulous.] A pheasant-hen with golden plumage?
BriffautAh, you do not know what sometimes happens?
ChanteclerandPatouNo.
The BlackbirdWe are in for a hunting yarn!—Give me chloroform!
BriffautIt 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—
PatouWhat happens?
BriffautThat the pheasant-hen—Ah, my dear fellows—!
Chantecler[Stamping with impatience.] The pheasant-hen what?—what?
BriffautMakes 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 BlackbirdAnd it makes her sore!
BriffautShe 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!
ChanteclerIn short, the pheasant your master missed—
BriffautWas a she!—[He stops and scents the air.] Oh but!—
Patou[Quickly, showing his dish.] You know, it’s my dinner you smell!
BriffautIt 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 BlackbirdHoly Smoke! Here comes another!—Oh, I say, hire a hall!
[A distant whistle is heard.]
Chantecler[Quickly.] You are whistled for!
BriffautThe deuce! Good evening! [Disappears.]
PatouGood evening.
ChanteclerGone, at last!
Blackbird[Calling.] Briffaut!
ChanteclerGreat Glory, what are you doing?
The Blackbird[Calling.] I have something to tell you!
Briffaut[His head reappears above the wall.] Well—?
The BlackbirdLook out, Briffaut!
Chantecler[Low to theBlackbird.] Do you make sport of our fears?
The BlackbirdYou are losing something!
BriffautWhat?
The BlackbirdTime!
Briffaut[Disappearing with a snort of fury.] Wow!