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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 104 pages of information about Chantecler.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Tenderly.] My own!

CHANTECLER Such a burden of responsibility resting upon me!  That inspiring breath which I await when I scratch in the sand, will it come again?  I feel the whole future depending upon an incomprehensible something which might perchance fail me!  Do you understand now the anguish gnawing me?  Ah, the swan is certain, by bending his neck, to find under water the grasses he delights in; the eagle, when he swoops from the blue, sure of falling upon his prey; and you are ever sure of finding in the earth the well supplied nests of the ants,—­but I, for whom my own work remains a mystery, I, possessed ever by the fear of the morrow, am I sure of finding my song in my heart?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Clasping him with her wings.] Surely, you will find it, surely!

CHANTECLER
Yes, talk to me like that.  I listen, I heed you.  You must believe me
when I believe, and not when I doubt.  Tell me again—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
You are beautiful!

CHANTECLER
About that I care very little.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
And you sang beautifully!

CHANTECLER
Say that I sang badly, but tell me that it is I who make—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Indeed, indeed, I admire you beyond all bounds and measure!

CHANTECLER
No,—­tell me that what I told you is true—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
What?

CHANTECLER
That it is I who make—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Yes, my glorious Beloved, yes, it is you who make the dawn appear!

THE BLACKBIRD
[Suddenly appearing.] Well, well, old man!

SCENE FOURTH

THE SAME, THE BLACKBIRD

CHANTECLER
The Blackbird!—­My secret!

THE BLACKBIRD
[Bowing with every sign of admiration.] Allow me to—­

CHANTECLER
That inveterate mocker! [To the PHEASANT-HEN.] Leave us not alone!  My
soul is still open—­his mockery would enter in!

THE BLACKBIRD
Ripping!

CHANTECLER
Where have you come from?

THE BLACKBIRD
[Indicating an empty overturned flower-pot.] From that flower-pot.

CHANTECLER
But how—?

THE BLACKBIRD I was having my early snack cozily in the earthenware retreat you see, when suddenly—­oh, allow me to express at once the amazement, the admiration—­

CHANTECLER
Eavesdropping inside a pot!  How can you stoop to—­

THE BLACKBIRD Hang the pot!  I’ve had a sensation!  I tell you I was wild!  My feet were doing such a horn-pipe I had trouble to keep my eye steady at the peep-hole.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
You could see us?

THE BLACKBIRD [Showing the hole at the bottom of the flower-pot.] Could I see you!  Yonder stump of red cone has exactly the black hole to let through my yellow bill.  Apologies,—­but it was too tempting!  A bird of taste, I am.

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