Chantecler
[Dryly.] Yes, Madam.
The Pheasant-hen
I suppose it would be useless to insist—
Chantecler
[Climbing on the wall at the back.] And from here you can see the remainder of the estate, to the edge of the kitchen-garden, where they ply at evening a serpent ending like a sprinkling can.
The Pheasant-hen
What?—This is all?
Chantecler
This is all.
The Pheasant-hen
And do you imagine the world ends at your vegetable-patch?
Chantecler
No.
The Pheasant-hen
Do you never, as you watch, far overhead, the wedge of the south-flying birds, dream of vaster horizons?
Chantecler
No.
Pheasant-hen
But all these things about you are dreary and poor and flat!