CHANTECLER [_Emphatically._] Of course she will! [_Turning to leave._] THE PHEASANT-HEN He is going! When faithless they turn to leave, oh, that we had arms, arms to hold them fast,--but we have only wings! CHANTECLER [_Stops short and looks at her, troubled._] She weeps? PATOU [_Hastily, pushing him along with his paw._] Hurry up! CHANTECLER [_To_ PATOU.] Wait a moment. PATOU I am willing. Nothing can sit so patiently and watch the dropping of tears as an old dog. THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Crying to_ CHANTECLER, _with a leap toward him._] Take me with you! CHANTECLER [_Turns and in an inflexible voice._] Will you consent to stand second to the Dawn? THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Fiercely drawing back._] Never! CHANTECLER Then farewell! THE PHEASANT-HEN I hate you! CHANTECLER [_Already at some distance among the brush._] I love you, but I should poorly serve the work to which I devote myself anew at the side of one to whom it were less than the greatest thing in the world! [_He disappears._] SCENE EIGHTH THE PHEASANT-HEN, PATOU, _later the_ WOODPECKER, RABBITS, _and, all the_ VOICES _of the awakening forest._ PATOU [_To the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] Mourn! THE SPIDER [_In the centre of her-web which now sifts the gold dust of a sunbeam._] Spider at morn, Cometh to warn! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Furiously, tearing down the cobweb with a brush of her wing._] Be still, hateful Spider!--Oh, may he perish for having disdained me! THE WOODPECKER [_Who from his window has been watching_ CHANTECLER’S _departure, suddenly, frightened._] The poacher has seen him! THE OWLS [_In the trees._] The Cock is in danger! THE WOODPECKER [_Leaning out to see better._] He breaks his gun in two! PATOU [_Alarmed._] To load it! Is that murderous fool in sheepskin gaiters going to fire upon a rooster? THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Spreading her wings to rise._] Not if he sees a pheasant! PATOU [_Springing before her._] What are you doing? THE PHEASANT-HEN Following my calling! [_She flies toward the danger._] THE WOODPECKER [_Seeing that in her upward swing she must touch the spring of the forgotten snare._] Look out for the snare! [_Too late. The net falls._] THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Utters a cry of despair._] Ah! PATOU She is caught! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Struggling in the net._] He is lost! PATOU [_Wildly._] She is--He is-- [_All the_ RABBITS _have thrust out their heads to see._] THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Crying in an ardent prayer._] Daybreak protect him! THE OWLS [_Rocking themselves gleefully among the branches._] The gun-barrel shines, shines-- THE PHEASANT-HEN Dawn, touch the cartridge with your dewy wing! Trip the foot of the hunter in a tangle of grass! He is your Cock! He drove off the darkness and the shadow of the Hawk! And he is going to die. Nightingale, you, say something! Speak! THE NIGHTINGALE [_In a supplicating sob._] He fought for a friend of mine, the Rose!