Chantecler
Remaining in spite of all a female, whose eternal rival is the Idea!
The Pheasant-hen
[In a great cry.] Hold me to your heart and be still!
Chantecler
[Crushing her brutally to him.] Yes, I strain you to my Cock’s heart—[With infinite regret.] Better it were I had folded you to my Awakener’s soul!
The Pheasant-hen
To deceive me for the Dawn’s sake! Very well, however much you may abhor it, you shall for my sake deceive the Dawn.
Chantecler
I How?
The Pheasant-hen
[Stamping her foot; in a capricious tone.] It is my formal and explicit wish—
Chantecler
But listen, dear—
The Pheasant-hen
My formal and explicit wish that you should for one whole day refrain altogether from singing.
Chantecler
That I —
The Pheasant-hen
I desire you to remain one whole day without singing.