Chantecler
[Placing his wing over the flower.] I —
The Pheasant-hen
You deceive me to the point of remembering to brush off your feet!
Chantecler
But—
The Pheasant-hen
This clodhopper, see now, whom I picked up off his haystack—and to rule alone in his soul is apparently quite beyond my power!
Chantecler
[Collecting himself and straightening up.] When one dwells in a soul, it is better, believe me, to meet with the Dawn there, than with nothing.
The Pheasant-hen
[Angrily.] No! the Dawn defrauds me of a great and undivided love!
Chantecler
There is no great love outside the shadow of a great dream! How should there not flow more love from a soul whose very business it is to open wide every day?
The Pheasant-hen
[Coming and going stormily.] I will sweep everything aside with my golden russet wing!
Chantecler
And who are you, bent upon such tremendous sweeping [They stand rigid and erect in front of each other, looking defiance into each other’s eyes.]
The Pheasant-hen
The Pheasant-hen I am, who have assumed the golden plumage of the arrogant male!