Chantecler | Page 3

farmer's great-coat and fowling-piece. The moment he sings, I rush to the spot, but I never get there in time to see anything but his little wicket closing. This evening I mean to stay right here beside the door--[_She takes up her position on the threshold._]
A VOICE White Hen!

SCENE SECOND
THE SAME, a PIGEON on the roof, later CHANTECLER.
THE WHITE HEN [Looking about with quick jerks of her head.] Who called me?
THE VOICE A pigeon.
THE WHITE HEN [Looking for him.] Where?
THE PIGEON On the sloping roof.
THE WHITE HEN [Lifting her head and seeing him.] Ah!
THE PIGEON Though I am the bearer of an important missive, I would not miss the opportunity--Good evening, Hen!
THE WHITE HEN Postman, howdedo?
THE PIGEON My duty on the Postal Service of the Air obliging me this summer evening to pass your habitations, I should be most happy if--
THE WHITE HEN [Spying a crumb of some sort.] One moment, please.
ANOTHER HEN [Running eagerly towards her.] What are you eating?
ALL THE HENS [Arriving at a run.] What's she eating?
THE WHITE HEN A simple grain of wheat.
THE GREY HEN [Taking up her conversation with the WHITE HEN.] As I was telling you, I mean to stay right on the door-step there--[_Showing the door of the house._]
THE WHITE HEN [Looking at the door.] The door is shut.
THE GREY HEN Yes, but I shall hear the hour striking, and I will catch a look at my Cuckoo by stretching my neck,--
THE PIGEON [Calling, slightly out of patience.] White Hen!
THE WHITE HEN One moment, please! [To the GREY HEN.]--Catch a look at your Cuckoo, by stretching your neck where?--Where?
THE GREY HEN [_Pointing with her beak at the small, round opening at the foot of the door._] Through the cat-hole!
THE PIGEON [Raising his voice to a shout.] Am I to be kept here cooling my feet on your rain-pipe? Hi, there, whitest of Hens!
THE WHITE HEN [Hopping towards him.] You were saying?
THE PIGEON I was about to say--
THE WHITE HEN What, bluest of Pigeons?
THE PIGEON That I should consider myself past expression fortunate if--But no! I am abashed at my own boldness!--if I might be so favoured as to be permitted to get a glimpse--
THE WHITE HEN Of what?
THE PIGEON Oh, just a glimpse, the very least glimpse of--
ALL THE HENS [Impatiently.] Of what?--What?
THE PIGEON Of his comb!
THE WHITE HEN [Laughing, to the others.] Ha! ha! he wishes to see--
THE PIGEON [In great excitement.] That's it! Just to see--
THE WHITE HEN There, there, cool down!
THE PIGEON I am shaking with excitement!
THE WHITE HEN You are shaking down the roof!
THE PIGEON You can't think how we admire him!
THE WHITE HEN Oh, everyone admires him!
THE PIGEON And I promised my missis to tell her what he is like!
THE WHITE HEN [Quietly pecking.] Oh, he's a fine fellow, no doubt of that!
THE PIGEON We can hear him crowing from our dove-cote. The One he is whose song is more an ornament to the landscape than the white hamlet to the hill! The One he is whose cry pierces the blue horizon like a gold-threaded needle stitching the hill-tops to the sky! The Cock he is! When you would praise him, call him the Cock!
THE BLACKBIRD [Hopping up and down in his cage.] Tick-tock!--who sets all hearts a-beating, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!
A HEN Our Cock!
THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting his head between the bars of his cage.] My, thy, his, her, our, your, and their Cock!
THE TURKEY [To the PIGEON.] He will soon be coming in from his usual round in the fields.
THE PIGEON You have the honour of his acquaintance, sir?
THE TURKEY [Importantly.] I have known him from a baby. This chick--for to me he is still a chick!--used to come to me for his bugle lesson.
THE PIGEON Ah, indeed? You give lessons in--
THE TURKEY Certainly. A bird who can gobble is qualified to teach crowing.
THE PIGEON Where was he born?
THE TURKEY [Indicating an old covered basket, badly battered and broken.] In that old basket.
THE PIGEON And is the hen who brooded him still living?
THE TURKEY [Again indicating the basket.] She is there.
THE PIGEON Where?
THE TURKEY In that old basket.
THE PIGEON [More and more interested.] Of what breed is she?
THE TURKEY She is just a good old-fashioned Gascon hen, born in the neighbourhood of Pau.
THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting out his head.] She is the one Henry the Fourth wished to see cooking in every Frenchman's pot!
THE PIGEON How proud she must be of having hatched such a Cock!
THE TURKEY Yes, proud with a lowly foster-mother's pride. Her beloved chick is coming to his inches, that is all she seems to understand or care about. And when you tell her this, her clouded reason gives a momentary gleam-- [Calling towards the basket.] Hey, old lady, he is growing!
ALL THE HENS He is growing!
[_The lid of the basket is suddenly lifted, and a