Chantecler
[Laughing.] Do you know that?
The Pheasant-hen
You seem to forget that the object of your affections comes under the head of game.
Chantecler
[With a touch of sadness.] It is true that we are of different kinds.
The Pheasant-hen
[Returning to his side with a hop.] I want you to love me more than her. Say it’s me you love most. Say it’s me!
The Woodpecker
[Reappearing.] I !
Chantecler
[Looking up.] Not in a love-scene.
The Pheasant-hen
[To the Woodpecker.] See here,—you! Be so kind another time as to knock!
Woodpecker
[Disappearing.] Certainly. Certainly.
The Pheasant-hen
[To Chantecler.] He has a bad habit of thrusting his bill between the bark and the tree, but he is a rare scholar, exceptionally well informed—
Chantecler
[Absent-mindedly.] On what subjects?