Chantecler. Edmond Rostand

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СКАЧАТЬ the bars.]—messing his shirtfront with omelette?

      THE WHITE HEN

       Perfectly true.

      THE CHICK

       Cali—

      THE TURKEY [Helping him.] Gu?

      THE CHICK

       Gu—

      THE PIGEON

       Is it true—?

      THE CHICK [Jumping for joy at having found.] Gula!

      THE PIGEON—true that, as report says, he has a secret for his amazing singing, a secret whereby his crow becomes the brilliant burst of red which makes the poppies of the field feel themselves contemptible imitations?

      THE WHITE HEN [Weary of this questioning.] Perfectly true.

      THE PIGEON

       That secret, that great secret, is it known to anyone?

      THE WHITE HEN

       No.

      THE PIGEON

       He has not even told his Hen?

      THE WHITE HEN [Correcting him.] His Hens.

      THE PIGEON [Slightly shocked.] Ah, he has more than one?

      THE BLACKBIRD

       He crows, remember, you only coo.

      THE PIGEON

       Well, then, he has not even told his favourite?

      THE TUFTED HEN [Promptly.] No, he has not!

      THE WHITE HEN [As promptly.] No, he has not!

      THE BLACK HEN [As promptly.] No, he has not!

      THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting out his head.] Hush!—An aërial drama! The Butterfly, absorbed in his head of blossom, banquets, all oblivious of—

      [A great green gauze butterfly-net appears above the wall, softly coming towards the BUTTERFLY settled on one of the flowers.]

      A HEN

       What is that?

      THE TURKEY [Solemnly.] Fate!

      THE BLACKBIRD

       In a thin disguise of gauze!

      THE WHITE HEN

       Oh, a net—at the end of a cane!

      THE BLACKBIRD No harm in the cane—it's the kid at the other end of the cane! [Half aloud, watching the BUTTERFLY.] You neat little fop, sailing from rose to rose, to-night you'll be neat as a pin can make you!

      ALL [Watching the cautious approach of the net beyond the wall.] Nearer—Nearer—Hush! He'll catch it!—No he won't!—Yes, he will!

      SUDDENLY OUTSIDE

       Cock-a-doodle-doo!

      [At the sound, the BUTTERFLY flies off. The NET wavers a moment, with an effect of disappointment, then disappears.]

      SEVERAL HENS

       What?—Eh?—What was it?

      A HEN [Who having hopped up on a wheelbarrow can follow the flight of the BUTTERFLY.] He is off and away, over the meadow.

      THE BLACKBIRD [With ironical emphasis.] It's Chantecler, practicing knight-errantry!

      THE PIGEON [With emotion.] Chantecler!

      A HEN

       He is coming!

      ANOTHER HEN

       He is just outside—

      THE WHITE HEN [To the PIGEON.] Now you will see. He's a very fine bird indeed.

      THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting his head between the bars.] Easy as possible to make, a Cock!

      THE TURKEY [Admiringly.] Admirable amenity!

      THE BLACKBIRD You take a melon—a fine specimen, I will grant—for the trunk. For the legs, two sticks of asparagus—prize sticks, of course. For the head, a red pepper—as handsome as you may find. For the eye, a currant—exceptionally clear and light. For the tail, a sheaf of leeks, with luxuriant blue-green flags. For the ear, a dainty kidney-bean—extra, superfine!—And there you have him, there's your Cock!

      THE PIGEON [Gently.] One thing you have omitted—His heavenly clarion call!

      THE BLACKBIRD [Indicating CHANTECLER, who now appears upon the wall.] Yes, but with the exception of that—slight detail, you must own my portrait is a likeness.

      THE PIGEON Not at all. Not in the very least. [Contemplating CHANTECLER with a very different eye from the BLACKBIRD'S.] What I see, beneath that quivering hemlet, is Summer's glorious and favoured knight, who, from a groaning wain at evening borrowing its golden harvest-robe has arrayed himself in this, and lifts it from the dust with a gleaming sickle!

      CHANTECLER [On the wall, in a long guttural sigh.] Coa—

      THE BLACKBIRD When he makes that noise in his throat, he either is in love, or preparing some poetic outburst.

      CHANTECLER [Motionless on the wall, with head high.] Blaze forth in glory!—Dazzle—

      THE BLACKBIRD

       He's letting off hot air!

      CHANTECLER

       Irradiate the world!

      A HEN

       Now he pauses—one claw lifted—

      CHANTECLER [In a sort of groan of excessive tenderness.] Coa—

      THE BLACKBIRD

       That, if you please, is ecstasy!

      CHANTECLER

       Thy gold is of all gold alone beneficent! I worship thee!

      THE PIGEON [Under breath.] To whom is he talking?

      THE BLACKBIRD [Sneering.] To the sun, sonny, the sun!

      CHANTECLER

       O thou that driest the tears of the meanest among weeds

       And dost of a dead flower make a living butterfly—

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