The Pheasant-hen
Following my calling! [She flies toward the danger.]
The Woodpecker
[Seeing that in her upward swing she must touch the spring of the forgotten snare.] Look out for the snare! [Too late. The net falls.]
The Pheasant-hen
[Utters a cry of despair.] Ah!
Patou
She is caught!
The Pheasant-hen
[Struggling in the net.] He is lost!
Patou
[Wildly.] She is—He is—
[All the Rabbits have thrust out their heads to see.]
The Pheasant-hen
[Crying in an ardent prayer.] Daybreak protect him!
The Owls
[Rocking themselves gleefully among the branches.] The gun-barrel shines, shines—
The Pheasant-hen
Dawn, touch the cartridge with your dewy wing! Trip the foot of the hunter in a tangle of grass! He is your Cock! He drove off the darkness and the shadow of the Hawk! And he is going to die. Nightingale, you, say something! Speak!