_] They have done to me--that I know not what they may do to
you! They have done to me--that among us simple, kindly folk they have
introduced new fashions, the Blackbird of being funny, the Peacock of
putting on airs! Fashions which the latter in his grotesque bad taste
picked up parading on the marble terraces of the vulgar rich, and the
former--Heaven knows where! along with his cynicism and his slang. Now
the one, travelling salesman of blighting corrosive laughter, and the
other, brainless ambassador of Fashion, their mission to kill among us
love and labour, the first by persiflage, the second by display,--they
have brought to us, even here in our peaceful sunny corner, the two
pests, the saddest in the world, the jest which insists on being funny
at any cost, and the cry which insists on being the latest scream! [_The
_ BLACKBIRD _is heard tentatively whistling, "How sweet to fare
afield"._] You, Cock, who had the sense to prefer the grain of true
wheat to the pearl, how can you allow yourself to be taken in by that
villainous Blackbird! A bird who practises a tune!
CHANTECLER
[_Indulgently._] Come, he whistles his tune like many another!
PATOU
[_Unwillingly agreeing, in a drawling growl._] Ye-e-es, but he never
whistles it to the end!
CHANTECLER
[_Watching the_ BLACKBIRD _hopping about._] A light-hearted fellow!
PATOU
[_Same business._] Ye-e-es, but he lies heavy on our hearts.
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