Chantecler - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel Chantecler Part 43 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Imperiously._] But one song only!
CHANTECLER Yes.
THE PHEASANT-HEN For a month I have only allowed you one song.
CHANTECLER [_Resignedly._] Yes.
THE PHEASANT-HEN And has the Sun not risen just the same?
CHANTECLER [_In a tone of unwilling admission._] The Sun has risen.
THE PHEASANT-HEN You see that one can have the Dawn at a smaller cost. Is the sky any less red for your only crowing once?
CHANTECLER No.
THE PHEASANT-HEN Well then? [_Offering her bill._] A kiss! [_Finding his kiss absent-minded._] You are thinking of something else. Please attend!
[_Reverting to her idea._] Why should you wear yourself out? You were simply squandering the precious copper of your voice. Daylight is all very well, but one must live! Oh! the male creature! If we were not there, with what sad frequency he would be fooled!
CHANTECLER [_With conviction._] Yes, but you are there, you see.
THE PHEASANT-HEN It is barbarous anyhow to keep up a perpetual c.o.c.kaduddling when I am trying to sleep.
CHANTECLER [_Gently correcting her._] Doodling, dearest.
THE PHEASANT-HEN Duddling is correct.
CHANTECLER Doodling.
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Raising her head toward the top of the tree and calling._] Mr.
Woodp.e.c.k.e.r! [_To_ CHANTECLER.] We will ask the learned gentleman in the green coat. [_To the_ WOODp.e.c.k.e.r _the upper half of whose figure appears at a round hole high up in the tree trunk; his coat is green, his waistcoat buff, and he wears a red skull-cap._] Do you say c.o.c.kaduddling or c.o.c.kadoodling?
THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Bending a long professorial bill._] Both.
CHANTECLER _and the_ PHEASANT-HEN [_Turning to each other, triumphantly._] Ah!
THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r Duddling is more tender, doodling more poetic. [_He disappears._]
CHANTECLER It is for you I c.o.c.kaduddle!
THE PHEASANT-HEN Yes, but you c.o.c.kadoodle for the Dawn!
CHANTECLER [_Going toward her._] I do believe you are jealous!
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Retreating coquettishly._] Do you love me more than her?
CHANTECLER [_With a cry of warning._] Be careful, a snare!
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Jumping aside._] Ready to spring! [_Dimly visible against a tree, is, in fact, a spread bird-net._]
CHANTECLER [_Examining it._] A dangerous contrivance.
THE PHEASANT-HEN Forbidden by the game-laws of 44.
CHANTECLER [_Laughing._] Do you know that?
THE PHEASANT-HEN You seem to forget that the object of your affections comes under the head of game.
CHANTECLER [_With a touch of sadness._] It is true that we are of different kinds.
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Returning to his side with a hop._] I want you to love me more than her. Say it's me you love most. Say it's me!
THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Reappearing._] I!
CHANTECLER [_Looking up._] Not in a love-scene.
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_To the_ WOODp.e.c.k.e.r.] See here,--you! Be so kind another time as to knock!
WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Disappearing._] Certainly. Certainly.
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_To_ CHANTECLER.] He has a bad habit of thrusting his bill between the bark and the tree, but he is a rare scholar, exceptionally well informed--
CHANTECLER [_Absent-mindedly._] On what subjects?
THE PHEASANT-HEN The language of birds.
CHANTECLER Indeed?
THE PHEASANT-HEN For, you know, the birds when they say their prayers speak the common language, but when they chat together in private they use a twittering dialect, wholly onomatopoetic.
CHANTECLER They talk j.a.panese. [_The_ WOODp.e.c.k.e.r _knocks three times with his bill on the tree: Rat-tat-tat!_] Come in!
THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r [_Appearing, indignant._] j.a.panese, did you say?
CHANTECLER Yes. Some of them say, Tio! Tio! and others say Tzoui! Tzoui!
THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r Birds have talked Greek ever since Aristophanes!
CHANTECLER [_Rus.h.i.+ng to the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] Oh, for the love of Greek! [_They bill._]
THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r Know, profane youth, that the Black-chat's cry Ouis-ouis-tra-tra, is a corruption of the word Lysistrata! [_Disappears._]
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_To_ CHANTECLER.] Will you never love anyone but me?
[THE WOODp.e.c.k.e.r'S _knock is heard: Rat-tat-tat._]
CHANTECLER Come in!
THE PHEASANT-HEN [_To_ CHANTECLER.] Do you promise?
