Chantecler
In what way?
Patou
In every way!
Chantecler
[Ironical.] Bad as all that, is it? [The Peacock’s squall is heard in the distance: “Ee—yong!”]
Patou
And then that cry, the Peacock’s!
[The Peacock, further off: “Ee—yong!”]
Patou
More out of tune all by itself than a whole village singing society!
Chantecler
Come, what have they done to you, that whistler and that posturer?
Patou
[Grumbling.] They have done to me—that I know not what they may do to you! They have done to me—that among us simple, kindly folk they have introduced new fashions, the Blackbird of being funny, the Peacock of putting on airs! Fashions which the latter in his grotesque bad taste picked up parading on the marble terraces of the vulgar rich, and the former—Heaven knows where! along with his cynicism and his slang. Now the one, travelling salesman of blighting corrosive laughter, and the other, brainless ambassador of Fashion, their mission to kill among us love and labour, the first by persiflage, the second by display,—they have brought to us, even here in our peaceful sunny corner, the two pests, the saddest in the world, the jest which insists on being funny at any cost, and the cry which insists on being the latest scream! [The Blackbird is heard tentatively whistling, “How sweet to fare afield”.] You, Cock, who had the sense to prefer the grain of true wheat to the pearl, how can you allow yourself to be taken in by that villainous Blackbird! A bird who practises a tune!
Chantecler
[Indulgently.] Come, he whistles his tune like many another!
Patou
[Unwillingly agreeing, in a drawling growl.] Ye-e-es, but he never whistles it to the end!