CHANTECLER Alas!—­But shall we therefore despond? [And tearing himself from melancholy, he springs toward the left.] There is still much to do over here.  Cock-a—­[At this point the crowing of other COCKS ascends from the valley. CHANTECLER listens, then softly.] Hark!  Do you hear them now?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Who dare—?

CHANTECLER
The other Cocks.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Bending above the plain.] They are singing in the rosy light—­

CHANTECLER
Yes, they believe in the light as soon as they see it.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
They sing all in a haze of blue—­

CHANTECLER I sang in total blackness.  My song rose from the cheerless shade, and was the first to rise.  It is when Night prevails that it’s fine to believe in the Light!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
How dare they sing when you are singing?

CHANTECLER Let them sing!  Their songs acquire significance from mingling with mine, and their tardy but numerous cries unconsciously hasten the flight of the dark. [Straightening upon his hillock, he calls to the distant COCKS.] Now, all together!

CHANTECLER AND ALL THE COCKS
Cock-a-doodle-doo!

CHANTECLER
[Alone, with familiar cordiality.] Forward, forward, boldly, Day!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Beside him, stamping her feet.] Boldly, Day!

CHANTECLER [Crying encouragements to the Light.] Yes, there, there before you, is a roof for you to gild!  Come, come, a touch of green on that patch of waving hemp!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Beside herself with excitement.] A glimmer of white on that road!

CHANTECLER
A wash of blue on the river!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[In a great cry.] The Sun!  Look, the Sun!

CHANTECLER There he is, I can see him, but we must hale him from that grove! [And both of them, moving backward together, appear to be drawing something after them. CHANTECLER prolonging his crow as if to drag up the SUN by it.] Cooooooo—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Shouting above CHANTECLER’S crow.] There he comes—­

CHANTECLER
—­oock-a—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
—­climbing—­

CHANTECLER
—­doodle—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
—­above—­

CHANTECLER
—­doooooo!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
—­the poplars!

CHANTECLER [In a last, dry-throated, desperate crow.] Cock-a-doodle-doo [Both stagger, suddenly flooded with light.] It is done! [He adds, in a tone of satisfaction.] A proper Sun,—­a giant! [He totters toward a mossy rise and drops against it.]

THE PHEASANT-HEN [Running to him, while all grows brighter and brighter.] One song now to greet the beautiful rising Sun!

CHANTECLER [Very low.] I have no voice left.  I spent it all. [Hearing the other COCKS crowing in the valley, he adds gently.] It matters not.  He has the songs and praises of the others.