[_Going
to the convolvulus._] So that by talking into its chalice--[_He plunges
his bill into one of the trembling milky trumpets._] Hello!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Nodding to himself._] From the Greek, _allos_, another.
He talks with another.
CHANTECLER
Hello! The Blackbird, please!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Keeping watch._] Most imprudent, this is! To choose among the
convolvuli exactly the one which--
CHANTECLER
[_Lighter and lighter of mood, returning to the_ WOODPECKER.] But it's
the only one open all night! When the Blackbird answers, the Bee who
sleeps in the flower wakes up and we--
THE BEE
[_Inside the convolvulus._] Vrrrrrrrrr!
CHANTECLER
[_Briskly running to the flower and listening at the horn-shaped
receiver._] Ah? This morning, did you say?
THE WOODPECKER
[_Filled with curiosity._] What is it?
CHANTECLER
[_In a voice of sudden emotion._] Thirty chicks have been born!
[_Listening again._] Briffaut, the hunting-dog, is ill? [_As if
something interfered with his hearing._] I believe it is the
Dragon-flies, deafening us with the crackling of their wings--[_Shouting._]
Will you be so kind, young ladies, as not to cut us off? [_Listening._]
And big Julius obliges Patou to go with him on his hunting expeditions?
[_To the_ WOODPECKER.] Ah, you ought to know my friend Patou! [_Burying
his bill again in the flower._] So? Without me everything goes wrong? Yes!
[_With satisfaction.
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