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!
The Blackbird
[Looking after them among the branches, and later in the blue space over the valley.] They are calling one another!
Voice in the Distance
Scops!
The Blackbird
[Bending over the valley, where the dark wings are dwindling and fading.] They wheel—waver—dip—
Voices
[Dying in the distance.] Owl of the Wall! Of the Belfry! Of the Yew!
The Blackbird
Gone! [He looks about, gives a hop, and with an immediate return to levity.] But it’s supper-time.—Now for a bite of cold grasshopper! [The Pheasant-hen suddenly flies over the brushwood tangle, dropping beside him.] You!
Scene Second
The Blackbird, the Pheasant-hen, later Chantecler
The Pheasant-hen
[Panting, tragically earnest.] I ran all the way.—You were there.—Oh, I am half dead with terror!—Well you must have overheard their dreadful secret! You, his friend!