Chantecler. Edmond Rostand

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      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 constitute 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 cutlass dwells in the pocket-knife; blackbird and crow are of the selfsame crape, 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 glassy 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 [Passing 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.

      CHANTECLER [To BLACKBIRD.] Fine things we learn when the talk is of you!

      THE OLD HEN [Her head protruding from the basket.] Strike rotten wood, and see the wood-lice scatter! [The basket-lid drops.]

      PATOU [To CHANTECLER.] He laughs at you behind your back!

      BLACKBIRD [To PATOU.] Ha, retriever, you retrieve?

      PATOU When you pour forth your heart in your ardent cry, giving it over and over, he calls it the same old saw that your jag-toothed red crest stands for!

      CHANTECLER

       So that's what you say?

      BLACKBIRD [Affecting simplicity.] You surely don't mind? How can it affect you? And a joke about you is always so sure of success!

      PATOU [To the BLACKBIRD.] Point-blank, do you admire or despise the Cock?

      BLACKBIRD

       I make fun of him in spots, but admire him in lump!

      PATOU

       You always peck two kinds of seed.

      THE BLACKBIRD

       My cage has two seed-cups, you see.

      PATOU

       I am single-minded and downright!

      THE BLACKBIRD

       You—are an old poodle of the year 48! I am an up-to-date СКАЧАТЬ