SCOPS The same who has defeated the most famous champions--the White Pile. And as this victor in Flemish and English encounters wears at his heels, for the defter dispatching of his enemy, two razors fastened there by the ingenuity of man, by tomorrow night Chantecler will be dead, and his eyes picked out of their sockets. THE SCREECH-OWL [_Enthusiastically._] We will go and gloat over his corpse! THE GRAND-DUKE [_Risen to his full height, formidable._] And his comb, which looked above his forehead like an incarnate bit of scarlet dawn, we will take his comb,--our dearest dream at length fulfilled!--and we will eat it! ALL [_With a yell, which ends in their ferocious cackling and rocking._] And we will eat it,--eat it, ha, ha! THE GRAND-DUKE [_Spreading his wings._] Hush! [_Dead silence._] SCOPS And after that-- THE BLACKBIRD [_Hopping._] It’s quite a tidy proposition as it stands-- SCOPS What? THE BLACKBIRD Your scheme! By Jingo, if I were the sort of bird to take things solemnly, I would go straight to the Cock and tell him. But I will do nothing of the sort. [_He concludes, with four little hops._] For I know--that all this--will turn out--beautifully! SCOPS [_Ironically._] Beautifully indeed! [_He continues in growing excitement._] And after that, if those absurd Cocks of far-fetched breeds have not by to-morrow evening gone back to their cages, we will eat them all, no longer good for anything! THE GRAND-DUKE [_In his neighbour’s ear._] And after that we will eat the Blackbird for dessert. THE BLACKBIRD [_Who has not caught the last sentence._] What did he say? SCOPS [_Quickly._] Nothing! [_In a still increasing frenzy of glee._] And after that-- [_In the distance: Cock-a-doodle-doo! Instant silence. _SCOPS_ stops short and collapses, as if mown down. All the puffed _OWLS_ appear suddenly to have grown thin._] ALL [_Looking at one another and blinking._] What is it? What was that? [_They hastily spread their wings and call to one another for flight._] Grand-Duke! Minor! Minimus! THE BLACKBIRD [_Hopping from one to the other._] Going? So soon? Why, what’s your hurry? VOICE [_Of one of the_ NIGHT-BIRDS _calling to another._] Nyctalis! THE BLACKBIRD It’s hours before daybreak. Oceans of time, you have! AN OWL Asio, are you coming? ANOTHER OWL [_Calling._] Nictea! ANOTHER [_Fluttering up to him._] Yes, my dear! [_They all stagger and trip over their wings._] THE BLACKBIRD What makes them stumble? THE NIGHT-BIRDS [_Winking and blinking with marked evidences of pain._] Oh, how it hurts! Ow! Ow! THE BLACKBIRD Lightning opthalmia, I declare! [_One by one the_ OWLS _fly off._] THE GRAND-DUKE [_The last to go, spins on himself with a cry of pain and rage._] How does he contrive, that pernicious Cock, to have a voice that fairly puts out your eyes! [_He heavily flaps off._] VOICES OF THE NIGHT-BIRDS [_In the distance._] Strix!