Scene FIFTH

A GOLDEN PHEASANT. [Flying suddenly over the wall, and dropping in the yard, mad with fright] Hide me!

CHANTECLER. Heavens!

PATOU. A golden pheasant!

GOLDEN PHEASANT. Is this great Chantecler?

THE BLACKBIRD. All over the shop, we're famous!

GOLDEN PHEASANT. [Running hither and thither] Save me, if you are he!

CHANTECLER. I am! — Rely on me!

[Another shot]

GOLDEN PHEASANT. [Jumping and casting himself on CHANTECLER.] Merciful powers!

CHANTECLER. But what a nervous bird it is — a golden pheasant!

GOLDEN PHEASANT. I have no breath left! I ran too hard!—[Faints.]

THE BLACKBIRD. Puff!—Out goes his light!

CHANTECLER. [Upholding the PHEASANT with 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 the PHEASANT.] How the dickens did he manage to miss you?

THE PHEASANT. Surprise!— 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——[Seeing PATOU he quickly adds.] I am speaking of a hunting-dog![To CHANTECLER.] Hide me!

CHANTECLER. The 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?

PATOU. There by the bench with the beehives stands my green cottage, very much at your service.— Go in, I pray![The GOLDEN PHEASANT goes 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.

[BRIFFAUT appears above the wall. Long hanging ears and quivering chops.]

PATOU. [To BRIFFAUT, 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!

PATOU. No, but I saw a pheasant.

BRIFFAUT. That was she!

PATOU. A pheasant-hen wears dun. This was a golden pheasant. He went off towards the meadow.

BRIFFAUT. It is she!

CHANTECLER. [Going towards him, incredulous.] A pheasant-hen with golden plumage?

BRIFFAUT. Ah, you do not know what sometimes happens?

CHANTECLER and PATOU. No.

THE BLACKBIRD. We are in for a hunting yarn!— Give me chloroform!

BRIFFAUT. It 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——

PATOU. What happens?

BRIFFAUT. That the pheasant-hen —— Ah, my dear fellows ——!

CHANTECLER. [Stamping with impatience.] The pheasant-hen what? — what?

BRIFFAUT. Makes 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 BLACKBIRD. And it makes her sore!

BRIFFAUT. She 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. [Drily.] Pray, what do you know about it?

BRIFFAUT. [Astonished.] Is he annoyed?

PATOU. [Aside.] Already!

CHANTECLER. In short, the pheasant your master missed——

BRIFFAUT. Was a she!——[He stops and scents the air] Oh but!——

PATOU. [Quickly, showing his dish] You know, it's my dinner you smell!

BRIFFAUT. It 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 BLACKBIRD. Holy Smoke! Here comes another!— Oh, I say, hire a hall!

[A distant whistle is heard.]

CHANTECLER. [Quickly.] You are whistled for!

BRIFFAUT. The deuce! Good evening![Disappears.]

PATOU. Good evening.

CHANTECLER. Gone, at last!

BLACKBIRD. [Calling.] Briffaut!

CHANTECLER. Great Glory, what are you doing?

THE BLACKBIRD. [Calling.] I have something to tell you!

BRIFFAUT. [His head reappears above the wall.] Well——?

THE BLACKBIRD. Look out, Briffaut!

CHANTECLER. [Low to the BLACKBIRD.] Do you make sport of our fears?

THE BLACKBIRD. You are losing something!

BRIFFAUT. What?

THE BLACKBIRD. Time!

BRIFFAUT. [Disappearing with a snort of fury.] Wow!