THE BLACKBIRD Sure, brother, sure! I feel like shouting, “Bully, do it again!” [_He hops out of the way._] CHANTECLER [_Exhausted._] That soul! I am more spent with chasing it than with a whole day’s grasshopper hunting! [_Violently._] Did you not see the sky? THE BLACKBIRD [_Simply._] How could I? The ground is all you can see through that little black hole. [_Pointing at the flower-pot._] CHANTECLER Did you see the mountain-tops tremble and turn crimson? THE BLACKBIRD While you were crowing, I had my eye on your feet. CHANTECLER [_Sorrowfully._] Ah! THE BLACKBIRD They were performing on the soft sod something choice in the line of fancy dances! CHANTECLER [_Giving up._] I pity you! Back to your darkness, obscure Blackbird! THE BLACKBIRD Your obedient servant, illustrious Cock! CHANTECLER My course is toward the sun! THE BLACKBIRD Take along smoked glasses! CHANTECLER Blackbird, do you know the one thing upon earth worthy that one should live wholly for its sake? THE BLACKBIRD There I draw the line. I won’t enter the debate! CHANTECLER That thing is effort, Blackbird--effort, which uplifts and ennobles the lowest! For which reason, you, contemner of every sublime aspiration, I contemn! And that fragile roseate snail, struggling unaided to silver over a whole fagot, I honour! THE BLACKBIRD [_Snapping up the snail._] I’ll make him look silly! CHANTECLER [_With a cry of horror._] Abominable! To point a joke--put out a little flame! An end. Here we part. You have no more heart than soul. [_Going._] THE BLACKBIRD [_Hopping up on the fagot._] I have mind, however! CHANTECLER [_Turning, disdainfully._] That is open to discussion. THE BLACKBIRD [_Acidly._] Oh, very well! I was administering, in my merry little characteristic way, a grain of antidote against lunacy. But I wash my claws of you. Go ahead, justify the report of your enemies. CHANTECLER [_Returning._] Who? What? THE BLACKBIRD Strut about with your bill-board: “I’m the whole show!” CHANTECLER You associate with those who hate me? THE BLACKBIRD Do you object? CHANTECLER No, you pitiful jester! The habit has grown so strong, you can no more be in earnest about friendship now than anything else. [_Going nearer to him._] Who are my enemies? THE BLACKBIRD The Owls. CHANTECLER You sorry fool! Can’t you see that to believe in my destiny becomes all too easy if the Owls are against me? THE BLACKBIRD Rest happy, then. They have a deal on--your lighting of the world being a trifle flashy for their taste--a deal on for cutting your throat. CHANTECLER Through whom? THE BLACKBIRD A brother bird. CHANTECLER A Cock? THE BLACKBIRD A Saint George of a Cock, who is to meet you-- CHANTECLER Where? THE BLACKBIRD At the Guinea-hen’s. CHANTECLER What a farce! THE BLACKBIRD Wait! It’s one of those Cocks bred and trained for fighting, who would make just two bites of either you or me. [_As_ CHANTECLER _abruptly starts toward the back._] Where are you going?