CHANTECLER Look attentively at the sky. Already it has paled. The reason is that a short while back, with my earliest crow I ordered the sun to stand in readiness just below the horizon. THE PHEASANT-HEN He is so beautiful that what he says almost seems possible! CHANTECLER [_Talking toward the horizon._] Ha, Sun, I feel you just behind there, stirring--and I laugh with pride and joy amidst my scarlet wattles--[_Rising on tiptoe suddenly, in a voice of startling loudness._] Cock-a-doodle-doo! THE PHEASANT-HEN What great breath lifts his breast-feathers? CHANTECLER [_Toward the east._] Obey!--I am the Earth, and I am Labour! My comb is the pattern of a forge fire, and the voice of the furrow rises to my throat! [_Whispering mysteriously._] Yes, yes, month of July-- THE PHEASANT-HEN To whom is he speaking? CHANTECLER You shall have it earlier than April! [_Bending to right and left, encouragingly._] Yes, Bramble!--Yes, Brake! THE PHEASANT-HEN He is magnificent! CHANTECLER [_To the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] You see, I must at all times remember--[_Stroking the earth with his wing._] Yes, dear Grass!--remember the humble prayers whose interpreter I become. [_Talking to invisible things._] The golden ladder?--I understand! that you may all dance on it together! THE PHEASANT-HEN To whom are you promising a ladder? CHANTECLER To the Motes--Cock-a-doodle-doo! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Watching the sky and landscape._] A shiver of blue runs across the thatched roofs.--A star went out just then-- CHANTECLER No, it veiled itself. Even by daylight the stars are there. THE PHEASANT-HEN You do not extinguish them? CHANTECLER I extinguish nothing! But you shall see how great I am at kindling! THE PHEASANT-HEN Oh, I see a dawning of-- CHANTECLER What do you see? THE PHEASANT-HEN The blue is no longer blue! CHANTECLER I told you! It is already green! THE PHEASANT-HEN The green is turning to orange-- CHANTECLER You will have been the first this morning to see the transformation! [_The distant plain takes on velvety purplish hues._] THE PHEASANT-HEN It all seems to end in leagues of purple heather. CHANTECLER [_Whose crow is beginning to tire._] Cock-a-doo-- THE PHEASANT-HEN Oh--yellow among the pine trees! CHANTECLER Gold it ought to be,--gold! THE PHEASANT-HEN And pearly grey-- CHANTECLER It shall be white!--I haven’t done it yet! Cock-a-doodle-doo--It’s very bad so far, but I won’t give up! THE PHEASANT-HEN Every hollow in every tree is pink as a wild rose-- CHANTECLER [_With growing enthusiasm._] Since love lends me strength in addition to faith, I say the Day to-day shall be more beautiful that the Day!--Do you see? Do you see the eastern sky at my voice dappling itself with light? THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Lured along and half persuaded by the madness of the_ COCK.] Such a thing might be, after all, since love is involved in the mystery! CHANTECLER Resume, horizon, at my command, your fringe of little poplars!