CHANTECLER
[_In high wrath._] Me?--
PATOU
For when a new Hen heaves in sight, you can't help yourself, you
know--you lose your balance-wheel--
THE BLACKBIRD
You slowly circumambulate the fair one--[_He imitates the_ COCK _walking
around a_ HEN.] "Yes, it's me.--Here I am!" And you say, "Coa--"
CHANTECLER
I never knew a more idiotic bird!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Continuing to mimic him._] You let your wing hang, sentimentally--your
foot performs a sort of stately jig--[_A shot is heard._] Ha! I don't
like that!
PATOU
[_Starts up quivering, and scents the air._] Poaching Julius is at his
tricks again!
THE BLACKBIRD
Dog, it seems to stimulate you agreeably!
PATOU
[_With ears up-pricked and shining eyes._] Yes! [_Suddenly, as if
controlling himself, passionately._] No--!
THE BLACKBIRD
What affects you so?
PATOU
Oh, horrible, horrible! A poor little partridge perhaps--
THE BLACKBIRD
Is that streaming eye, my friend, a result of age or rheumatism?
PATOU
Neither! But I have within me several dogs, and there is conflict amidst
me. My hunter's nostril twitches at a shot, but, directly, my
house-dog's memory raises before me a bleeding wing, the glazing eye of
a doe, the pathos of a rabbit's dying look--and I feel the heart of a
Saint Bernard waking in my breast! [_Another shot._]
CHANTECLER
Again?
SCENE FIFTH
THE SAME, A GOLDEN PHEASANT, _later_ BRIFFAUT.
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