Coldness from the Guinea-Fowl, scorn from the Peacock, mockery from the Blackbird, and insults from the Prize Fighting Cock, who has been commissioned by the uncanny, unwholesome Night Birds to slay idealistic, sun-loving Chantecler. Then, the duel, which ends in the victory of THE Cock, and the pain and humiliation of the prize-fighter. All the Cocks, from M. le Doyen down to the Cock without Claws, are dismayed. The Peacock is disgusted; the Guinea-Fowl is dejected at the wretched failure of her “five o’clock”—only the smart, irrepressible Blackbird keeps things going. But not for long. Contemptuously, Chantecler turns upon him; taunts him with his vain, miserable endeavour to imitate the true, delightful wit, gaiety and genius of the Sparrow—the _gavroche_—of Paris. The Parisian Sparrow is flippant, but warm-hearted. He laughs, he scoffs, he whistles, he swaggers, but he is faithful and brave. But you, wretched Blackbird, are a coward. You, shallow creature, are a sneak. And then the line that would have rejoiced the heart of Victor Hugo: “Il faut savoir mourir pour s’appeler Gavroche.” A month passes. The last Act represents the Hen Pheasant’s forest, where she and Chantecler are spending their honeymoon. For the bird has enticed the Cock away from the farm-yard; and thus, distress of his old foster-mother, and much indignation amongst the white, grey, brown and black hens. Night in the forest, and how beautifully depicted! Up in a tree sits a solemn woodpecker; below him, around a huge mushroom, a number of toads with glistening eyes are assembled. Then, a gigantic cobweb, and in the middle of it, a spider. Here and there, rabbits peep out of their holes. Everywhere, birds. “It is time,” says the solemn woodpecker to them, “for you to say your prayers.” _Une Voix [dans les arbres]._ Dieu des oiseaux!... _Une Autre Voix._ Ou plutôt—car il sied avant tout de s’entendre Et le vautour n’a pas le Dieu de la calandre! Dieu des petits oiseaux!... _Mille Voix [dans les feuilles]._ Dieu des petits oiseaux!... _Une Autre Voix._ Et vous, François, grand saint, bénisseur de nos ailes.... _Toutes les Voix._ Priez pour nous! _Une Voix._ Obtenez-nous, François d’Assise, Le grain d’orge... _La Seconde Voix._ Le grain de blé... _D’autres Voix._ Le grain de mil... _La Première Voix._ Ainsi soit-il! _Toutes les Voix._ Ainsi soit-il!