Le Coq d'Or (The Golden Cock): An Opera in Three Acts
Author: Unknown
Date: 2017-08-24T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Operas -- Librettos

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Title: Le Coq d'Or (The Golden Cock): An Opera in Three Acts

Composer: Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov

Librettist: Vladimir Ivanovich Belskii

Release date: August 24, 2017 [eBook #55423]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English, French

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55423

Credits: Produced by MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE COQ D'OR (THE GOLDEN COCK): AN OPERA IN THREE ACTS ***

Le Coq d’Or
(The Golden Cock)

AN OPERA
IN THREE ACTS BY
N. RIMSKY-KORSAKOV

COPYRIGHTED, 1918, BY FRED RULLMAN, INC.

PUBLISHED BY
FRED RULLMAN, Inc.
AT THE
THEATRE TICKET OFFICE. 111 BROADWAY
NEW YORK

Transcriber’s Note

This book contains the text of the opera both in French and in English. The original presented the two languages on alternating pages. This is impractical to reproduce in an e-text. Instead, the acts alternate: Act 1 in French, then in English, followed by Act 2, etc.

It seems obvious from the number of errors in the original text that it was not checked by a fluent French speaker before publication. Accents and punctuation have been corrected without note. A fuller list of changes made appears at the end of this text.

ARGUMENT.

King Dodon, a lazy and gluttonous ruler, is greatly worried by his warlike neighbors. He seeks advice but his various advisers fail to comfort him. Finally the Astrologer brings him a wonderful bird, the Golden Cock, who knows how to foretell events. The bird is placed on a spire in Dodon’s capital and from hour to hour sends out from his high perch various messages which either send the crowd scurrying for their weapons, or cause it to scatter and return to its peaceful activities. The bird suddenly sounds a war alarm. Dodon assembles his warriors and they set out on their journey to the enemy’s land.

King Dodon’s army fares rather badly in an encounter with its foe. In the uncertain light of early morning his warriors retreat into a deep gorge where the ground is piled high with the bodies of the dead. Suddenly Dodon and his generals descry a tent. It must be the headquarters of the enemy’s chief.

They prepare the onslaught when suddenly there comes out of the tent a beautiful young woman who sings a bold hymn to the sun in which she dilates complacently upon her own physical beauty. Dodon and his general, Polkan, are at once attracted and listen with pleasure while she tells them that she intends to conquer Dodon’s capital. Her task is only too easy. Dodon is ready and willing to give her anything she may desire, even Polkan’s head.

Dodon and the strange Queen start for Dodon’s capital: he will make her his bride. Their honeymoon is not unmixed bliss; the young Queen compels her old husband to amuse her in ways which are not always as dignified as would beseem Dodon’s position.

They quarrel. The Astrologer appears once more on the scene. He reminds the King of his promise to give him anything he wishes in exchange for the marvelous bird. The Queen herself is the price he demands. Dodon, indignant, strikes him with his scepter and he apparently falls dead. Then the bird flies down from the spire, pecks Dodon on the head and kills him. The Astrologer then resuscitates, informs the audience that the whole story is a fable, and that only he and the Queen are real human beings.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- King Dodon.

- Amelfa (the Royal Housekeeper).

- Prince Guidon.

- The Astrologer.

- Prince Afron.

- The Queen of Shemakhan.

- Voevoda Polkan.

- The Golden Cock.

LE COQ D’OR

PROLOGUE.

(Devant le rideau apparaît L’Astrologue, une clef à la main.)

L’Astrologue
(au public).

Par mon art cabalistique,
Par les lois que je pratique,
On va voir renaître ici
Les héros d’un vieux récit.
Pour vous d’un conte tous les masques
Revivront, joyeux, fantasques.
Certes ce n’est qu’une fable,
Mais la morale en este louable.

(Il disparaît.)

ACTE PREMIER.

(Avant le lever du rideau, on pressent qu’il va se passer quelque chose de grave et de solennel. En effet, on voit une vaste salle, dans le palais du Roi Dodôn, qui fut jadis maître de tous les steppes de la Russie méridionale. Le conseil royal est en séance. La salle est richement ornée de peintures, de sculptures, de dorures. Le vert, le bleu, le jaune, couleurs favorites des sujets du Roi Dodôn, prédominant, sur des bancs recouverts de brocart, siègent des seigneurs graves et barbas. Au milieu, sur un trône richement orné de plumes de paon, est Dodôn, couronne en tête et vêtu d’un habit d’apparat, jaune. Près de lui sont assis ses deux fils, Aphrôn et Gvidôn. Parmi les conseillers le général Polkan, vieux soldat brutal.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(qui paraît accablé de soucis).

Chers sujets, le cœur troublé,

Je vous ai tous rassemblés

Pour vous apprendre, en personne,

Combien lourde est ma couronne.

Mon sort est triste! écoutez:

Jeune, j’étais redouté.

Sans scrupule, l’âme fière,

Je portais au loin la guerre.

Maintenant, je suis bien vieux;

Les combats sont périlleux.

Or, mes ennemis se lèvent.

Ils m’attaquent tous, sans trêve:

On dirait qu’ils font exprès!

Sans répit, nous restons prêts

A combattre.

(Avec désespoir.)

Nous veillons au Nord: du tout,

C’est du Sud qu’il fond sur nous!

On est là: tous ces sauvages

Viennent par la mar.

J’enrage: On n’a plus aucun répit,

J’en sanglote de dépit.

A ces maux est-il un remède?

Qu’un de vous me vienne en aide.

Un conseil!

Un Seigneur
(avec hésitation).

Autrefois une vieille, par les fêves,

Savait expliquer les rêves.

Seconde Seigneur.

Allons donc! Cette autre était
Bien meilleure, qui savait lire,
Dans le marc, et tout prédire.

Gvidôn.

Dans le ciel on peut trouver

Le sens de ce qu’on a rêvé.

Tous.

Par le marc, oui!

On explique par les fêves.…

Tous les rêves.

(La querelle devient acharnée. Le Roi reste assis, pensif. A ce moment apparaît sur l’escalier un vieil Astrologue. Il porte un habit bleu, brodé d’étoiles d’or, et un bonnet d’astrakan blanc. Sous son bras il tient un astrolabe et un sac bigarré. Tous, silencieux, le regardent. Il s’approche du Roi, à pas comptés, et salue jusqu’à terre. Puis il s’agenouille.)

L’Astrologue
(à genoux).

Fier Dodôn, salut à toi!

Je fus, tel que tu me vois,

Conseiller du roi, ton père.…

Or, je viens, comme naguère,

T’offrir mon fidèle appui.

J’ai appris, tous tes ennuis:

Ce coq d’or, sur une lance,

Prouvera sa vigilance.

Prends-le donc, et crois moi bien:

Nul n’aura meilleur gardien.

Lorsque tout sera paisible,

Tu le verras impassible.

Dès qu’un noir danger poindra,

Sans tarder, il étendra

Les ailes, dressera la tête

Et d’une voix bien haute et nette.

Chantera: “Cocoricou!

Ouvrez l’œil et garde à vous!”

Le Roi Dodôn
(un peu incrédule).

A beau mentir qui vient de loin!

Montre-nous-le, néanmoins.

(Tous entourent avec curiosité L’Astrologue, qui tire de son sac un petit Coq D’Or. Le Coq se débat entre ses mains et crie.)

La Voix du Coq.

Cocori! cocorico!

Règne et dors en ton lit clos!

(Tous s’écrient avec étonnement.)

Les Seigneurs.

Quel prodige!

Quel miracle! il dit vrai:

C’est un oracle.

Le Roi Dodôn

Quel prodige! Quel miracle!

(À la foule, gaîment.)

Je me trouve désormais

Invincible, c’est bien vrai?

(Aux domestiques.)

Plantez-le sur une pique,

Qu’à veiller vite il s’applique.

(À L’Astrologue.)

Je ne puis, en vérité

De ma dette m’acquitter.

Mon estime, et c’est justice,

Récompense ton service.

(Solennellement.)

Et je jure d’accomplir

Sans tarder tous tes désirs.

L’Astrologue.

Nul trésor ne sert au sage,

Les honneurs, pas davantage.

Ils attirent le souci;

Mais pour ton serment, merci!

(L’Astrologue salue jusqu’à terre, et se dirige vers la sortie.)

La Voix du Coq
(du haut de la flèche).

Cocori! Cocorico!

Règne et dors en ton lit clos!

Le Roi Dodôn
(prête l’oreille, et se promène gaîment, en se frottant les mains d’aise).

O délices! Plus de peines!

Gouverner tous mes domaines

Sans bouger, sans m’éveiller,

Sauf pour rire et festoyer!

En avant les jolis contes,

Les jeux, les jongleurs, les danses!

Je vais oublier, sans honte,

La tristesse et les souffrances!

(L’intendante Amelfa paraît à la porte des chambres du fond.—S’étirant au soleil.)

Ah, Soleil! Ta douce haleine

Rajeunit les bois, les plaines.

Vois fleurir les cerisiers.…

(Indécis.)

Dans ce coin, bien volontiers,

Je ferais un petit somme.

Amelfa
(empressée et avec une infinie sollicitude).

Mais bien sûr! Voici les hommes

Qui t’apportent ton grand lit.

(Sur un signe d’elle, les serviteurs se précipitent dans le palais et reparaissent, portant un grand lit d’ivoire, couvert de fourrures; ils le dressent au soleil. Amelfa s’approche de Dodôn; elle apporte un grand plateau chargé de sucreries.)

N’as-tu pas quelque appetit?

Mange donc ces confitures,

Quelques noix, ou bien des mûres!

Bois le cidre: il est tout frais,

Parfumé, mousseux, sucré.

Ces fruits plein de miel, d’amandes,

Et bien cuits au vin, t’attendent.

Chasse donc tous les soucis,

Tâte des pruneaux farcis.

Le Roi Dodôn
(bâille et s’installe à portée du plateau.)

Hum.… J’accepte.… Mais prends garde,
Mon aimable babillarde,
Qu’un pesant sommeil soudain
N’interrompe mon festin.

(Le Roi a fini sa collation, et regarde du côté du lit. Amelfa arrange les oreillers et rabat les couvertures.)

Amelfa.

Dors un peu sur cette couche
Viens, je chasserai les mouches
Loin de ton auguste front.

La Voix du Coq.

Cocori! Cocorico!

Règne et dors en ton lit clos!

(Dodôn ne plut plus résister au sommeil. Il se couche et s’endort sans plus, avec autant d’insouciance qu’un enfant. L’intendante, penchée au dessus du lit, chasse les mouches.)

Des Gardiens
(dans les coulisses).

Règne et dors en ton lit clos!

(Les Gardiens, font l’appel, d’une voix somnolente, mais bientôt ils succombent à la douceur enchanteresse du sommeil de midi. Tous dorment profondement, sauf Amelfa. La capitale entière est possible. Seules les mouches infatigables bourdonnent autour du lit royal, que le soleil continue d’éclairer d’une lumière égale et douce.)

Amelfa.

Tous s’endorment, tous sommeillent.

Cher printemps! paix sans pareille!

(Elle s’accoude au lit du Roi et s’endort à son tour. Dodôn, dans son rêve, sourit comme à une belle inconnue.)

La Voix du Coq.

Cocori! Cocoricou!

Ouvrez l’œil et garde à vous!

(Trompettes dans la coulisse.—Bruit. Des gens courent. Des trompettes sonnent de divers côtés. Des chevaux henissent. La foule se précipite autour du palais. Sur les visages interloqués se lit une terreur profonde.)

La Foule
(dans la rue).

Le coq a donné l’alarme!

Courez tous, prenez les armes!

Oh! Malheur, calamité!

Le royaume est dévasté.

Polkan
(accourant).

Roi puissant, ma voix t’appelle!

Vois ton général fidèle!

Ah! Réveille toi! Malheur!

(Amelfa va se cacher précipitamment.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(encore à moitié endormi).

Quel est donc ce bruit, Seigneur!

Polkan.

L’ennemi sur nous s’avance!

Le Roi Dodôn
(se lève en bâillant).

Hein? Quoi donc?

Quelle démence.…

Est-ce le feu dans mon palais?

Polkan.

Foin du vieux niais!

Notre coq a chanté, il tourne et s’agite.…

Tous nos gens ont fui. Viens vite!

La Voix du Coq.

Cocori! Cocoricou!

Ouvrez l’œil et garde â vous.

(Dodôn regarde le Coq.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(au peuple).

Bien! Va pour la guerre, enfants!

Hâtez-vous, courez aux camps.

Faites vite, qu’on s’empresse!

Mais d’abord, ouvrez les caisses.

Le Peuple
(docilement).

Nous serons obéissants!

(Dodôn s’assied sur son trône. Des chambres intérieures du palais sortent précipitamment Aphrôn et les Seigneurs, tous armés. Gvidôn arrive et, tout en courant, boucle le ceinturon de son épée.—Il embrasse trois fois chacun de ses fils, qui partent, maussades, suivis des Seigneurs.—On entend le bruit de l’armée qui s’ébranle.)

La Voix du Coq
(lorsque tout s’est calmé on entend la voix du Coq.)

Cocoricou! Règne et dors en ton lit clos!

Le Roi Dodôn.

Joli Coq, je te rends grâce.

(Le Roi Dodôn, Amelfa, les gardes s’endorment d’un sommeil calme et profond.)

Gardes
(dans la coulisse).

Règne et dors, en ton lit clos!

(Le rêve de Dodôn se précise.)

La Voix du Coq.

Cocori! Cocoricou!

Ouvrez l’œil, et garde à vous!

(De nouveau s’entendent des cris, des pas précipités. Des trompettes sonnent. La foule, en grand désordre, se rassemble dans la rue, devant le palais. Trompettes dans la coulisse.)

Le Peuple
(dans la rue).

Ah, tout est perdu! Alerte!

(Ils restent tous indécis, n’osant réveiller le roi.—Trompettes dans la coulisse.)

Notre roi qui dort!

Oui, certes! Quel malheur!

Vite à genoux!

Comment faire? Sauvons-nous!

Et Polkan reste introuvable!

Polkan
(se précipite, suivi de seigneurs en armes. Amelfa va se cacher précipitamment.)

Un destin cruel nous accable,

Sors enfin, oui, sors de ce doux repos!

Le Roi Dodôn
(réveillé en sursaut).

Ah! toujours mal à propos!

Polkan.

Dans la ville tous s’irritent
Et là-haut, ton coq s’agite,
Clame à pleine voix son chant
Et regarde le levant.
Nous ne sommes pas en nombre;
L’avenir me paraît sombre.
Fais donner les vétérans!

Le Roi Dodôn
(se frotte les yeux et bâille).

Oui! Je vais venir, attends.

(Il s’approche de la balustrade et regarde en l’air.)

La Voix du Coq.

Cocori! Cocoricou!

Ouvrez l’œil et garde à vous!

Le Roi Dodôn
(d’un ton plaintif).

Le coq d’or nous met en garde.

En avant! Que nul ne tarde.

Chers amis marchons, vaillants,

Au secours de nos enfants!

(Il se prépare sans empressement; les domestiques apportent en hâte son équipement couvert de poussière et de rouille. Amelfa regarde le Roi avec tristesse.)

Mon armet! Puis, ma cuirasse.

Ouf! L’étroite carapace!

Cherchez-moi mon bouclier,

Le beau rouge; un baudrier.…

La Voix du Coq.

Cocoricou! Ouvrez l’œil et garde à vous!

Le Roi Dodôn
(examinant son bouclier).

Mais il est rongé de rouille!

Mon carquois en vain je fouille.

(Il est prêt à partir.)

Et j’étouffe. Allons toujours.…

Oh! Ce glaive, qu’il est lourd!

(soufflant.)

Bah! Tant pis. Venez, fidèles!

Qu’on m’aide à monter en selle.

La Voix du Coq.

Cocoricou! Ouvrez l’œil et garde à vous!

(De nombreux domestiques, soutenant Dodôn par les aisselles, lui font descendre l’escalier, au bas duquel l’attend un cheval blanc. Le peuple pénètre graduellement dans le palais.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(menace du doigt le Coq).

Fi, quel importun coq d’or

Qui me trouble ainsi quand je dors.

(Sur l’escalier.)

Est-il doux?

Deuxième Seigneur.

Comme un mouton!

Le Roi Dodôn.

C’est parfait alors: partons!

Amelfa
(d’une voix désespérée).

Mais, doux sire, t’en aller à jeun?

Le Roi Dodôn.

Va, je mangerai.

(à Polkan.)

A-t-on des vivres?

La Voix du Coq.

Cocoricoucou! Ouvrez l’œil et garde à vous!

Polkan.

Pour trois ans!

Le Roi Dodôn.

Officiers, allons, en route!

Amelfa.

Partez donc demain matin!

(Dodôn est à cheval.)

Le Peuple
(à tue-tête).

Gloire au roi Dodôn!

Hourra! Hourra! Hourra!

Ta valeur, chef intrépide,

Fera fuir l’ennemi perfide.

Mais surtout, sois bien prudent.

Ne te mets pas en avant!

RIDEAU.

THE GOLDEN COCK

PROLOGUE

(The Astrologer appears before the curtain with a magic key in his hand.)

The Astrologer
(to the audience).

I am a magician. By the occult sciences I am endowed with the extraordinary gift of evoking the shades, and in dead bodies breathing an enchanted life. Here before you will live again the droll masks of an old fairy tale. The tale’s not true, but there’s a hint in it; a lesson to all of you, good people.

(Disappears.)

ACT I.

(Before the curtain rises there is a feeling that something extraordinarily important and solemn is to be presented. And in fact one sees a vast hall in the palace of the famous King Dodon during the sitting of the Council of Boyars. The hall is richly ornamented with Russian carving, gilded and painted, by which it is clearly evident that green, blue, and yellow are the favorite colors of King Dodon’s people. On benches covered with brocade, the Boyars are seated in a semicircle,—grave and bearded men. Upon a throne in the middle, magnificently decorated with peacock feathers, is seated King Dodon himself, wearing a golden crown and in royal vestments of yellow. On either side of him are the impatient Princes—his sons Afron and Guidon. Amongst the Boyars is the old and rude Voevoda[1] Polkan.)

[1] Voevoda—a head of the army.

King Dodon
(appears overwhelmed with cares).

I have summoned you hither, so that everyone

In the kingdom should know, what a burden it is

To the mighty Dodon to wear a crown.

So, listen, my friends!

From my youth up I have been redoubtable,

And time and time again I have daringly affronted

My neighbours.

But now I wish to rest from warlike deeds,

And seek repose.

As if on purpose a neighbour now is disturbing me

By unceasingly doing evil deeds.

In order to defend

The frontiers of my kingdom from attack

I must maintain a large Army.

We expect invasion from the North, and lo!

A force is coming from the South.

We have mastered these, but evil guests

Are coming from the sea,

So that I, Dodon, weep from very anger

And cannot sleep.

My life is so anxious. I desire advice and help.

Counsel me!

One Boyar
(hesitatingly).

’Tis a pity our fortune-teller is dead.

She would have unravelled the question

By means of beans.…

Second Boyar.

Beans? We had—it’s a pity ’twas some time ago—

A better witch. She divined by dregs.

Guidon.

There was also one who knew

How to foretell things by the stars.

Chorus of Boyars.

Dregs are better.

The beans are more to be believed in.

(The dispute becomes more violent. The King is in a state of indecision. At this moment the very old Astrologer appears on the stairway, in a white hat and blue garment with gold stars. Under his arms he carries an astrolabe and bag. All follow the movements of the Astrologer in silence, who, with the short steps of an old man, approaches The King and bows low before him.)

The Astrologer
(on his knees).

Hail, Majesty! Sire!
Thy father knew me of old,
But we have not met until now.
Urged by my duty as a subject,
And having heard that Dodon
Was losing sleep by reason of his cares,
I have brought thee as a gift a bird.
Place it on a spire,
And my golden cock will be thy true watchman.
When all around is peaceful
He will remain quiet,
But if from any quarter
War threatens thee,
Or the invasion of an armed force,
Or any other unexpected misfortune,
In an instant my bird
Will raise his comb,
Will flap his wings, and
Turning in that direction,
Will begin to crow “Cock-a-doodle-do!
Beware!”

King Dodon
(still unbelieving).

O! That’s a fairy tale!

Take him out, and we shall have a look at him.

(They all surround The Astrologer, full of curiosity. The Astrologer takes out of his bag the cleverly-made Golden Cock, who flaps his wings and crows.)

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Reign, taking your ease!

(Exclamations of delight.)

The Princes and the Boyars.

It is simply marvellous! Simply wonderful!

The old man told the truth.

King Dodon

Marvelous! Wonderful!

(with joy, to all).

Is it true, that I from this time forth

Shall repel all my neighbours?

(To the servants.)

Place him on a spire,

And he will guard my capital.

(To The Astrologer.)

How shall I thank thee—
What can I promise thee—
For such a favour?
Besides my love and respect
I shall fulfill thy first wish
As if it were my own!

The Astrologer.

Gifts to the wise are not flattering;

Power—Riches—High Rank—

Create only enmity.

But love is dear to me!

(The Astrologer bows to the earth and goes towards the entrance.)

Voice of the Bird
(from the spire).

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Reign, and take your ease!

(Dodon walking up and down, rubbing his hands together joyfully.)

King Dodon.

What happiness! With folded hands
I shall reign, lying at my ease.
If I wish, I shall sleep,
And shall give orders not to be awakened.
I shall give commands to be amused
With fairy tales—
With combats—with jesters—and with dancing.
I shall forget forever
That in this world there are calamities.

(The housekeeper Amelfa appears, standing on the threshold of a door leading to the inner apartments.)

(Stretching himself out in the sun.)

How gloriously warm the sun is!

It is the breath of Spring. All is becoming green.

The cherry trees are white as milk.

(Looking about hesitatingly.)

I should like to take a nap in this nook,

And not to go into my bedroom.

Amelfa
(clasping her hands in boundless devotion).

Bàtyushka! If thou dost wish

We shall turn the whole capital into a bedroom!

(At a sign from her the servants rush to the palace and carry out into the sun a bed of ivory with fur coverings. Amelfa herself comes to him with a large tray filled with delicacies.)

See that thou hast an empty tummy.

Taste a little of these Turkish pods;

Or some walnuts in honey.

Drink some cold kvass,

With mint, hops, ginger.

Or will it please the royal taste

To have some prunes stuffed with raisins

And dipped in wine?

Try and see if they are tasty.

(Dodon, yawning, sits down before the dishes.)

King Dodon.

Oh well! All right! And whilst
I dally with the dishes, amuse me
So that I shall not fall asleep.

(Having finished the delicacies, he glances at the bed. Amelfa shakes up the pillow and arranges the bed.)

Lie down! I shall from the royal face

Drive off the annoying flies.

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Sleep in thy regal bed!

(Dodon lies down, and instantly goes to sleep, as free from care as a child. Amelfa drives away the flies, bending over the bed. At first the guards sleepily call out to one another the words: “Reign, lying at ease.” Then the sweet charm of the mid-day nap overcomes them. All except Amelfa indulge in a long, sweet sleep. Silence reigns throughout the capital. The indefatigable flies alone buzz about Dodon, and the everlasting sun shines as before with his steady and welcome light.)

Amelfa.

All are asleep! All are weary!

All tired by the breath of Spring!

(She leans her elbows on the royal bed, and falls asleep beside Dodon, who smiles in his sleep, dreaming of some wonderful beauty who never existed.)

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Beware!

(Uproar, and running to and fro. Horses neigh. Sound of trumpets—sometimes here, sometimes there. People appear on the street. Terrible fear is depicted upon their pitiful faces.)

People on the Street.

The bird is crowing! Get up!

Saddle your fleet horses!

Quickly! The enemy does not wait.

He will trample down the cornfields

And burn the villages.

Polkan
(running in).

Our King! Father of the people!

I am thy Voevoda.

Sire! Awake! A calamity is upon us.

(The Housekeeper jumps up and hurriedly disappears.)

King Dodon
(not quite awake).

What is it?

Polkan.

It must be that a strange foe is advancing.

King Dodon
(getting up and yawning).

Eh! What? What calamity?

Is my palace burning?

Polkan.

Devil take him!

The bird is crowing, turning about on the spire.

Noise and hubbub throughout the capital.

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Open your eyes and beware!

(His own eyes assure Dodon of the restlessness of the bird.)

King Dodon
(to the people).

Well! My children. It is war.

We must have assistance.

No delay! Make haste!

Unlock your coffers quickly.

People on the Street
(abasing themselves).

We are yours, body and soul.

(Dodon sits on his throne. Afron and the Boyars rush in, armed. Guidon runs in, buckling his sword belt. Dodon kisses each of his sons thrice. The sons, much cast down, go out with The Boyars. The noise of the departing army is heard; then all is silent.)

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Reign, taking your ease.

King Dodon
(yawning).

Dear bird! Many thanks.

(Dodon falls asleep; also Amelfa and the Guards. His dreams about the wonderful beauty become more definite and insistent.)

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Beware!

(Again noise and running to and fro. Trumpets. A terrified crowd of people assemble at the Palace, not daring to awake Dodon.)

People on the Street.

O! What misfortune! O, brothers, what evils!

Our King is fast asleep. All is quiet

In the palace. It is impossible to wake them.

What shall we do? What will become of us?

Where is Polkan, our Voevoda?

(Polkan rushes in with armed Boyars. Amelfa runs away.)

Polkan.

Sire! Father of thy people!

Sire! Another calamity!

King Dodon
(leaping from the bed).

Always at the wrong time!

Polkan.

Noise and hubbub in all the capital,
And again the bird high up
On the spire is playing tricks,
Turning towards the East.
It seems the Army has not been successful.
I suppose it would be the thing
To call out the old men!

King Dodon
(rubbing his eyes and yawning).

Wait! I shall look for myself.

(Goes to the balustrade and looks up at the roof.)

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do! Beware!

King Dodon
(plaintively).

The golden cock is flapping its wings not in vain;

A dangerous journey is before us.

Now, old man, we shall arise quickly

And go to help our children.

(He gets ready without any animation.)

Where is my helmet? Bring my armour.

(The servants quickly fetch the dusty and rusty arms and invest Dodon.)

My armour is too tight!

Look where my favourite red shield is hanging.

(They fetch the shield.)

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do! Beware!

Dodon
(examining his shield.)

My shield is all eaten by rust;

And the quiver is empty of arrows!

(Entirely armed.)

I can scarcely breathe! My old sword

Has become too heavy for the royal arm.

(panting.)

There is nothing to be done;

Carry me and put me on my charger.

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do! Beware!

(A crowd of servants take him under the arms and carry him to the staircase, where his white horse awaits him. The people little by little penetrate into the palace.)

Dodon
(pointing his finger threateningly at the bird.)

O! If he had only kept that cock

Hidden in his bag!

Is the horse quiet?

The Boyars.

As a cow.

King Dodon.

Just the horse for us!

Amelfa
(in despair).

Hast thou eaten something before thy

Journey, noble Sire?

King Dodon
(seating himself on the horse).

I can eat on the way.

(To Polkan.)

Are there provisions?

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do! Beware!

Polkan.

Enough for three years.

King Dodon.

Then let us start, Voevoda.

Amelfa.

It would be better to start in the morning.

(Dodon mounts his horse.)

People
(exclaiming).

It is the King! Our father! Hurrah!
Thou art going thyself. Hast thou not
Any Voevodas to lead the Army against
The enemy?
Take care of thyself,—

And stand well in the background all the time.

CURTAIN.

DEUXIÈME ACTE.

(Nuit obscure. Les troubles rayons de la lune éclairent de lueurs sanglantes un défilé étroit, parsemé de petits buissons, et les roches escarpées. Le brouillard de montagne remplit toutes les cavités d’un voile blanc. Parmi les buissons ou sur les pentes nues des collines, gisent les cadavres des guerriers: on les dirait pétrifiés au milieu de leur dernière bataille. Des aigles et d’autres rapaces, en bandes, se sont abattus sur les corps; à chaque coup de vent, ils s’envolent, effarés. Deux chevaux se tiennent immobiles, la tête inclinée sur les cadavres de leurs maîtres, les fils de Dodôn. Tout est calme, silencieux et menaçant.)

(On entend au loin un bruit de pas. C’est l’armée de Dodôn qui avance, craintivement. Des guerriers paraissent, suivant le défilé. Ils vont deux par deux, s’arrêtent, se retournent.)

Les Soldats.

Nuit épouvantable et sombre!

Tout est calme: seuls, dans l’ombre,

Les vautours veillent nos morts.

La lune pourpre sur leurs corps

Brille comme un cierge funèbre.

Hou! Le vent, dans les ténèbres,

Fait entendre un chant de deuil

Sur les cadavres sans cercueil.

Triste, il pleure; il geint sans trêve.…

Sa voix retombe et puis s’élève.

Il agite doucement

Leurs cheveux, leurs vêtements.

(Le Roi Dodôn, tourmenté par de sombres pensées, arrive au pas avec son vieux général. Ils trébuchent contre les corps des deux princes.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(se précipitant sur les corps de ses fils).

Quel spectacle abominable!

Mes deux fils!… Le sort m’accable.…

Désarmés, sanglants et froids,

Leurs yeux fixes pleins d’effroi.…

Ils se sont tués l’un l’autre!

Leurs vaillants coursiers arpentent

Le gazon souillé, les pentes

Que rougit le sang des nôtres.…

Ah, douleur cruelle!

Mes fils! Mon espoir!

Quelle erreur mortelle

Put ainsi vous décevoir?

Hélas, je n’ai plus qu’à mourir:

Coulez, coulez mes larmes amères!

Que la steppe solitaire

Nous entende tous gémir.

Les rochers, les bois, la plaine

Compatiront à notre peine.

Ah! Ah! Ah!

Chœur
(tous sanglotent).

Ah! Ah! Ah!

Le Roi Dodôn
(plaintivement).

Désormais

Je vous conduirai moi-même:

C’est pitié que ceux qu’on aime

Tombent ainsi, décimés!

Ah!

(Il pleure de nouveau.)

Polkan
(à Dodôn).

Adieu paniers, vendanges sont faites!

(Il se tourne vers l’armée.)

Votre maître est opprimé:

Vos épées sont-elles prêtes?

Chœur.

L’ennemi sera chassé!

Mais où diable est-il passé?

(Rien ne répond. Le jour commence à poindre. Le brouillard se disperse graduellement, et l’on aperçoit, sortant de terre une tente. Les rayons de l’aurore se jouent sur les arabesques de ses parois de brocart bigarré.—Consternation générale.)

Le Roi Dodôn.

Voyez donc, la belle tente!

(Les premiers rayons du soleil paraissent; on voit remuer les parois de la tente.)

(Les canonniers s’enfuient en débandade, abandonnant leur pièce.)

(De la tente sort une belle jeune femme à la démarche legère, mais majestueuse. Elle est suivie de quatre esclaves qui portent des instruments de musique: goussli (psalterions), goudok (viole), chalumeau et tambour. Sa longue robe de soie rouge est richement brodée d’or. Elle porte un turban blanc, orné d’une haute plume. Elle paraît ne rien voir, et, les bras levés comme pour la prière, chante en s’adressant au soleil qui brille.)

La Reine de Chémakha.

Salut à toi, soleil de flamme!
Nous reviens-tu de l’Orient,
Du doux pays cher à mon âme,
De ses paysages souriants?
Ah! Parle-moi des fraîches roses
Et des buissons ardents des lys;
Des beaux oiseaux qui se reposent,
Auprès des lacs bordés d’iris!
Qui chantent auprès des lacs bordés d’iris!
Dis-moi: le soir, près des fontaines,
Quand chaque belle entonne un chant
D’extase ou d’amoureuse peine
Qui monte au rouge firmament,
Voit-on toujours, sous leurs grands voiles,
Leurs yeux sourire au beau galant,
Qui, dans la nuit semée d’étoiles,
Viendra d’un pas furtif et lent?
Vient-on l’attendre à la fenêtre,
L’œil attentif, le cœur tremblant?
A peine l’a-t-on vu paraître,
Sait-on charmer l’heureux amant?
Le cœur en flamme,
Sait-on charmer l’amant, l’heureux amant?

(Ayant fini de chanter, elle se retourne vers le roi, et le regarde longtemps sans rien dire.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(à voix basse, et poussant Polkan du coude.)

Comme elle chante!

Qui peut-elle être?

Polkan
(de même).

Si dès qu’elle nous voit paraître
Son accueil est si charmant,
Allons-y pour un moment!

(Dodôn s’approche gravement de la reine. Polkan le suit. Les autres n’osent point s’approcher.)

Le Roi Dodôn.

N’aie pas peur de nous, ma belle!

Dis-moi comment tu t’appelles,

Quel est ton pays.

Dis-moi, Viens-tu seule ici?

Pourquoi?

La Reine de Chémakha
(timide, et les yeux baissés).

Je suis libre, et seule ici.

De Chémakha je suis la reine,

Et je viens de mes domaines

Pour soumettre ton pays!

Le Roi Dodôn
(avec stupéfaction).

Nous soumettre, sans vergogne?

Tu vas bien vite en besogne!

Sans armée tu nous vaincras,

Par la force de ton bras?

La Reine de Chémakha
(toujours avec timidité).

Ma pensée n’est point si folle:

Mon sourire, mes paroles,

Ma beauté me suffiront

Pour faire courber les fronts.

(Elle frappe dans ses mains. De la tente sortent deux esclaves qui portent des vaisseaux d’argent, et remplissent de vin des coupes.)

Pardonnez à mon audace,
Mes chers hôtes: prenez place;
Par faveur, daignez goûter de ce vin.

(Elle s’incline et offre une coupe pleine au Roi Dodôn, qui recule avec méfiance.)

A vos santés!

Le Roi Dodôn.

Bois d’abord, que nul mécompte

N’en résulte.

La Reine de Chémakha.

N’as tu pas honte?

Tiens, regarde dans mes yeux,

D’un dessein si ténébreux

Peux-tu m’estimer capable?

Suis-je donc si haïssable?

(Elle lève les yeux, en souriant. Dodôn, troublé, boit, et Polkan suit son exemple. Les esclaves reviennent; elles étendent un tapis au milieu de la scène, et disposent autour trois coussins en guise de sièges. Sur un signe de Polkan, les soldats, au fond de la scène, s’installent commodément. On enlève les cadavres. Dodôn, Polkan et la reine s’assoient. Les deux hommes sont tout décontenancés. La reine a un sourire énigmatique.)

Polkan
(reprenant courage, et se penchant brusquement vers la reine, avec l’intention d’être aimable).

Avez-vous la nuit dernière

Bien dormi?

La Reine.

Merci! Hum guère.…
Pas trop mal.…
Mais, au matin,
Je me réveillai soudain
L’air plus chaud et plus languide
Vint troubler mes sens timides;
Un parfum d’étranges fleurs
Enivra mon pauvre cœur.…
A travers la nuit obscure,
J’entendis un lent murmure.…
Toi, qu’appelle mon amour,
Viens! oh, viens, oh!

Polkan
(jovial).

Il viendra un de ces jours.

La Reine
(bondissant de son siège).

Sire, chasse ce vieil homme

Ses propos grossiers m’assomment.

(Polkan paraît déconcerté.)

Le Roi Dodôn.

Tu me pousseras à bout!

Tu es là comme un hibou,

Et tous tes discours stupides

Gênent cette enfant timide.

N’as tu pas compris?

Va-t’en dans un coin, et puis attends!

(Polkan se lève, docile, et va derrière la tente, d’où à chaque moment il sort un peu son nez et sa longue barbe. La reine rapproche son coussin de celui de Dodôn.)

La Reine
(presque à l’oreille de Dodôn).

Viens me dire quelque chose.

Le Roi Dodôn
(plus décontenancé que jamais).

Quoi donc? parle!

La Reine.

Mais je n’ose.…

Bah! Réponds la vérité:

On me vante ma beauté,

On m’accable de fadaises;

(Elle regarde Dodôn bien dans les yeux.)

Qu’en dis-tu?

Le Roi Dodôn
(bégayant).

Hein. Oui … vraiment … Certes…

La Reine.

Quel beau compliment!

Tu me vois sous mes parures:

Je suis belle, j’en suis sûre,

Par moi même.

Et tous les soirs

Je le vois dans mon miroir,

(Comme éprise d’elle même, et avec une animation croissante.)

Quand j’ai fait tomber ces robes
Dont l’étoffe te dérobe
La splendeur de mes attraits,
Quand mon corps d’argent paraît.…
Au milieu de cette tente
Je me vois, resplendissante.…
Je dénoue mes longs cheveux,
Dont le flot tumultueux,
Comme un noir torrent, s’éplanche
Sur le marbre de mes hanches,
Et me fait un lourd manteau
Pour rafraîchir la peau
Je m’asperge de rosée,
Dont les perles irisées
Se répandent sur mes seins.
Que n’en vois-tu le pur dessin!
Ils sont frais comme la rose,
Fermes, tendres, blancs et roses,
Si doux, si clairs, si transparents.…
Tu parais un peu souffrant?
Aurais-tu mal à la tête?

Le Roi Dodôn
(avec effort).

Non.… C’est au foie.… Ça s’arrête!

La Reine.

Ce n’est rien. Je vais chanter:

Tu n’auras qu’à m’écouter.

(Fait silence.)

(D’un coup d’œil elle ordonne aux esclaves d’accompagner son chant.)

“Viens dans l’ombre, viens dans l’ombre

De ma tente aux rideaux lourds.

Marche, glisse, marche, glisse

Sur mes tapis de velours!”

Veux tu venir sous ma tente,

Beau vieillard?

Le Roi Dodôn.

Tu ris, méchante!

Beau vieillard?

Je n’ai pourtant

Que tout au plus.…

La Reine.

Ah! pourquoi me souvenir?

Mon malheur ne peut finir

Un destin cruel m’accable,

Vivre m’est insupportable.

(À travers ses larmes.)

Où trouver quelqu’un qui ose

Me contredire en toute chose,

(Encore comme en rêve.)

Me soumettre à son désir,

Me dominer?

Le Roi Dodôn
(solennel).

Quel plaisir de te contenter, ma belle!

Celui que tes vœux appellent

Est ici, devant tes yeux.

Tu auras des jours joyeux.

Je veux être despotique,

Et te tourner en bourrique.…

En un mot, je suis tout prêt,

Tu n’auras aucun regret!

La Reine
(abasourdie).

En bourrique?

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

(D’un ton gai.)

Quel délice!

O, le merveilleux service!

(Dans l’excès de sa joie, elle saisit les deux mains de Dodôn.)

Crois à ma reconnaissance!

J’en suis folle! Saute, Danse!

Le Roi Dodôn
(effrayé).

Mais je ne sais plus danser!

La Reine.

Danse comme en ton jeune âge.

Le Roi Dodôn
(fâché).

Non! tous ces gens-là m’agacent.

La Reine.

Bien: Polkan prendra ta place.

Hé, Polkan! Danse avec moi!

(Polkan avance la tête, mais n’ose point bouger de sa cachette.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(conciliateur).

Non! pardonne à mon émoi.

Quoique gauche pour la danse,

Je veux bien, par complaisance.…

La Reine.

Commençons! Allons, venez!

Dodôn va vous fasciner.

(Timidement, Polkan et les guerriers s’approchent du tapis et forment le cercle; ils s’efforcent de ne point regarder Dodôn. Les esclaves entament un air de danse lente. Un tambourin à la main, la reine avance, gracieuse et légère.)

La Reine
(Elle danse).

Sous mon voile, je m’avance,
Je te fais la révérence,
Fort timidement. Puis à toi:
Viens ici, d’un pas courtois,
Mais sans crainte, l’air bravache,
Et retrousse en vainqueur tes moustaches.
Puis, encore trois pas en avant.

(Dodôn danse selon ces indications et arrive auprès de la reine.)

Bien!

Tu viens là, me suivant.

Je m’échappe, vagabonde,

Comme un poisson d’or, sous les ondes,

Fuit le venimeux crapaud

Qui lui court après.

(Dodôn danse de nouveau.—Se fâchant.)

Mauvais travail!

Rentre les talons, de grâce!

Cambre-toi, la tête en place!

Agite ton éventail,

Et montre-toi plus dispos!

(La danse devient plus animée.)

Je m’assieds; rien ne te gêne:

Tourne jusqu’à perdre haleine!

(Dodôn, agitant les bras avec désespoir, commence une danse frénétique. La reine s’est assise à un bout du tapis; elle rit aux éclats en voyant les pirouettes de Dodôn.—De petits nègres sortent de la tente et se rangent autour de Dodôn.—Exténué, Dodôn se laisse tomber sur le tapis. Les musiciens cessent de jouer. Les petits nègres s’enfuient.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(se dressant sur les genoux).

C’est assez!

Je veux souffler!

(Debout.)

Belle enfant, si je te plais,

Viens régner sur mon empire:

Tous mes biens pour ton sourire!

Prends mon royaume;

Prends, je t’en fais don!

La Reine
(avec dédain).

Bah! mais qu’y ferais-je donc?

Le Roi Dodôn.

Quoi? Hé bien: manger et boire,
Dormir, écouter des histoires,
Obtenir de ton amant
Tout.… oui, tout sauf le merle blanc!
Tu verras: l’on s’y goberge.

La Reine.

Çà partons, et faisons hâte

Je veux voir des ciels nouveaux.

Vite, en marche!

(De la tente sortent des esclaves qui portent des miroirs, des éventails, des bijoux, des tapis. Ils aident la reine à se préparer pour le voyage. Dans le camp de Dodôn, même agitation.)

Le Roi Dodôn.

Mes chevaux! Mon char doré!

Prenez les rênes!

Viens près de moi, ma souveraine.

La Reine
(se plaçant à côté de Dodôn).

Je suis prête. Avancez!

Chantez la gloire du fiancé!

Les Esclaves de la Reine.

O, mes sœurs, l’étrange histoire!

Notre reine, qui l’escorte?

Un vieillard aux jambes tortes!

La couronne d’or qu’il porte

Cache mal son front d’esclave.

O, cet air pédant et grave!

Il est tout pareil à l’âne,

Lourd d’esprit, et dur de crâne.

Comme un singe il gesticule.

Mon Dieu, qu’il est ridicule!

Son aspect hideux effare.

Le Roi Dodôn
(ne se contenant plus).

Hé, Polkan! Sonnez, fanfares!

Je suis fiancé: victoire!

(Fanfares; les soldats crient. Le cortège s’ébranle.)

Les Soldats.

Hourra! Hourra! Hourra! Hourra!

RIDEAU.

ACT II.

(A dark night. A dim moon casts a ruddy glow over a narrow gorge covered with small bushes and hemmed in by cliffs. The mountain mist, slightly stirred by the wind, fills all the hollows with a milky shroud. In the midst of the bushes, and on the bare hillocks, wherever one looks, lie in heaps the bodies of dead warriors killed in battle. Eagles and other birds of prey sit on the corpses in flocks, flying away in fright at every gust of wind. Two horses stand motionless with heads lowered over the bodies of their masters. All is quiet, silent, and ominous. There is heard in the distance the sound of the unsteady footsteps of the discouraged army of King Dodon. In the gorge, looking about and stopping, the warriors come down in a file, two abreast.)

Warriors.

The silent night is whispering fearful things.

All is waste; only a flock of birds
Guard the bodies of the fallen.
The pallid disc of the moon
Has risen, and is like a funeral taper.
A mournful and dreary wind
Steals through the darkness;
Stumbling on the bodies,
It blows moaning over the dead.
At times it is silent; and again dejectedly
It presses close to the faces of the fallen,
And plucks at their sleeves.

(Enter, riding their horses at a walk, King Dodon with his old Voevoda, plunged in gloomy thoughts, and stumble against the bodies of both the Princes.)

King Dodon
(throwing himself upon the bodies of his sons).

What terrible sight is this?

It is my sons! My own sons!

Without their helmets and their armour.

And both lie dead,—

The sword of each piercing the other.

Their horses wander o’er the meadows

Upon the grass trampled down

And red with blood.

Oh! Our support! My children!

Woe is me! Caught in a net

Are both my falcons.

O grief! My death is here.

Weep ye all, as Dodon does.

Let the deepest valleys groan

And the highest mountains shake with

Grief.

(All sob.)

King Dodon
(pitifully).

From henceforth I shall lead my army everywhere myself.

The young men enough have been

Exposed to the misfortunes of a martial life.

(Renewed sobbing.)

Polkan
(to Dodon).

Whatever has happened, it is past and done.

(To the army.)

Friends! Let us stand up for Dodon;

Let us give the enemy a lesson!

Warriors.

We shall! That we shall!

If only we can find the enemy.

(No answer. It begins to grow light. The mist rises a little, and the outline of a tent is seen. The rosy reflection of the dawn falls upon the bright, many coloured patterns of the brocade flaps of the tent. All are amazed.)

King Dodon.

Good heavens! A tent!

All in patterns.

(The first rays of the rising sun.)

(The flaps of the tent move. The warriors hastily disperse, leaving the cannon. From the tent emerges with an easy but imposing gait a beautiful, bright-eyed woman, accompanied by four female slaves with dulcimer, rebec, reed, and a drum. She wears a long silk garment of raspberry colour, plentifully adorned with pearls and gold. On her head a white turban with a high feather. The beautiful woman, as if she had noticed nothing, turns towards the bright sun, raising her hands to it in prayer.)

Queen of Shemakhan.

Answer me, bright orb of day!
Thou com’st to us from the East—
Hast thou visited my native land,
The country of fairy dreams?
Are the roses still glowing there
And the bushes of burning lilies?
Do the turquoise dragon-flies
Kiss the gorgeous leaves?
In the evening by the waters,
In the shy songs of the women and the maidens

Is there still that same intoxicating faintness,

The passionate dream of forbidden love?
Is the unexpected guest still welcomed—
Are there gifts prepared for him—
A modest feast—a secret look
Through the interfering veils?
When the blue night darkens,
Does the young mistress hasten to him
With a sweet avowal on her lips,
Having forgotten both fear and shame?

(The song being ended The Queen turns towards The King and looks for a long time at him in silence.)

King Dodon
(quietly poking Polkan with his elbow).

That’s a song for you!

Polkan
(with a wink).

If the young mistress wishes to entertain us

It is possible for us to pass a little time here.

(Dodon gravely goes nearer to the Queen. Polkan follows him. The others remain at a distance, not daring to approach.)

King Dodon.

Fair lady! Fear us not.

Be open with us in everything.

What is thy name? Who art thou?

And where is thy land?

Queen of Shemakhan
(modestly lowering her eyes).

By your leave I am the

Virgin Queen of Shemakhan.

I am stealing like a thief

To conquer thy city.

King Dodon
(in astonishment, almost roughly).

Thou art an amusing jester,

Wilful maiden.

To wage war, an army is necessary;

Without it, it’s a sorry business.

Queen of Shemakhan.

In this thou art mistaken.

An army is not needful for a victory.

Beauty alone makes all bend low

Before her.

(Claps her hands. Two more slaves come out of the tent with silver pitchers and pour wine into goblets.)

I am glad of unexpected guests.

The goblets are full of the fiery juice of the vine;

They are frothing to the rim.

(She bows and strikes the face of Dodon who recoils in distrust.)

Your Health!

King Dodon.

Thou shalt drink first,—

We after.

Queen of Shemakhan.

I did not expect this.

Look in my eyes, which glow

Brighter than the dawn itself.

How could I, with such a heavenly look,

Regale the stranger with poison?

(Smilingly she raises her eyelashes. Dodon, in confusion, drinks the wine. Polkan does the same. The slaves who brought the pitchers again appear, spread out a carpet in their midst, and arrange pillows for them to sit on. At a sign given by the Voevoda, the warriors withdraw to a distance, for a prolonged rest and to gather the bodies of the slain. Dodon, Polkan, and The Queen seat themselves. The first two are perplexed and silent. The Queen smiles enigmatically.)

Polkan
(making an effort, suddenly bows to The Queen, trying to be easy in manner and agreeable).

How has the Queen been pleased to

Pass the night?

Queen of Shemakhan.

I thank thee, I slept not badly.

But at dawn something happened to me;

The air became intoxicating—

Moist, heavy, and spicy—

Like the aroma of night flowers,

Like the play of tangled dreams.

Someone unseen was breathing,

Oppressed by secret passion.

I heard a voice, tender as the air of Spring,

Teasing the ear with the words:

“Dearest! Let me go.”

Louder—softer—farther—nearer.

Polkan
(with a smile).

They will come. Do not grieve.

(The Queen arises in great emotion.)

Queen of Shemakhan.

King! Drive away this monster!

I do not love thy Voevoda.

(Polkan is put out of countenance.)

King Dodon.

Why, indeed, old dotard,

Dost thou stare like an owl?

Thou seest the damsel is put to shame—

Still fears us men.

Away with thee! Go!

Behind the tent.

(Polkan gets up hurriedly and goes behind the tent, from where his long beard is seen sticking out from time to time. The Queen moves her pillow close to Dodon.)

Queen of Shemakhan
(almost in Dodon’s ear).

My business is with thee.

King Dodon
(still more confused by the danger of propinquity).

Well, what is it?

Queen of Shemakhan.

I should like to know for certain
If the virgin beauty of the Queen
Is really so brilliant;
Or is it empty talk.

(Looks straight into Dodon’s eyes.)

What sayest thou?

King Dodon
(hesitating).

I … that is … in truth …

Queen of Shemakhan.

Is that all?

Thou art to be pitied knowing

The Queen only in her garments.

I am not so bad without them.

When I go to sleep, I look a long time in the mirror.

(Thoughtfully admiring herself. Becomes more and more carried away.)

I throw off my garments,
And as a ray of sunlight in the mist
Falling on a silver statue
I shine within the tent.
I look and see if anywhere
There is a mole or any blemish on my body.
I remove the pearly fastenings, and
Wanton masses of hair,
Not embarrassed with any head-dress,
Pour forth in black torrent
Over my supple marble thighs.…
So that my sleep may be fresh and sweet
For the night, I sprinkle myself with dew.
On my breasts fall drops of liquid fire—
And I have breasts indeed!
They vie with glory of the southern roses—
Magnificent and firm—and they are
As white, light, and transparent as a dream.…
What is the matter, my friend? Art thou not
Thyself? Is thy little head turned?

King Dodon
(controlling himself).

There is something the matter with my liver.

Queen of Shemakhan.

Rubbish! I shall sing.

Listen to my song!

(With a look commands her slaves to accompany her.)

“Dark and narrow
Is my gaily-decked tent;
Warm and soft is the carpet in it.…”
Dost thou wish, old man, to see
What is within?

King Dodon.

Why dost thou wish to offend us? You know

I am not old. These are not wrinkles, but——

Queen of Shemakhan.

Ah! Why do I think of it—

Only to open the wound afresh?

My grief is as boundless

As the wide expanse of the blue sea.

O! Take my life!

(through her tears)

Where shall I find someone who will be able

To contradict me in everything;

(as in a dream)

Who will place a limit to my desires,

Firmly and masterfully?

King Dodon
(solemnly).

Cease weeping, and rejoice,

Maiden Queen of Shemakhan.

Thou hast sought and found.

Thy life will now be bright.

I shall thwart thee and

Contradict thee in everything;

In fine—without unnecessary words—

I am ready to do all for thee.

Queen of Shemakhan
(in amazement).

Me? Thwart?

I am very glad

(joyfully)

Such happiness! Such bliss!

(Takes Dodon by both hands, who is unutterably happy.)

And for this occasion let us dance,

Forgetting our exalted rank.

King Dodon
(in fear).

’Tis true I have not danced from childhood.

Queen of Shemakhan.

Well! Be once more a child.

King Dodon
(gloomily).

I am not going to dance in the presence of people.

Queen of Shemakhan.

Then, Polkan must be with me.

Here, Polkan! Come hither, my friend!

(Polkan sticks his head out from behind the tent, but dares not to approach.)

King Dodon
(seeks a reconciliation).

Do not get angry, darling!

Although I do not know how to dance,

I shall not spare myself.

Queen of Shemakhan.

Well, let us begin. People, come hither!

Our Dodon is going to dance.

(Polkan and the Warriors cautiously draw near to the carpet, stand in a circle and try not to look at Dodon. The female slaves begin a measured and graceful dance; The Queen with a tambourine joins in, slowly and light as air.)

Queen of Shemakhan
(dancing).

At first I shall dance.
Having lowered my veil,
Modestly, languidly.—Now it is
Thy turn, Dodon. Come! Step in front
Like a turkey cock, full of conceit,
And sideways, as if by accident,
Knock up against me.

(Dodon dances as commanded and awkwardly jostles the Queen.)

Good! I, striking my tambourine,
Shall fly away from thee,
Silently, supple as a little fish,
And then thou, a loathsome old crab,
Must try and catch me.

(Dodon dances again.)

Queen of Shemakhan
(angrily).

Not that way! Thou hast the ways of a camel.

Don’t keep your heels out.

(Dance becomes livelier.)

And now, wave your hand,

Turn around, take mincing steps;

Stamp thy feet until thou art ready to fall down;

Whilst I sit down here.

(The Queen sits to one side and laughs continually, amused at Dodon. Dodon waves his hand despairingly and starts the mad dance. Black boys run out from the tent and form a circle around Dodon. His strength exhausted, he falls down on the carpet. The dance ends, and the black boys re-enter the tent.)

King Dodon
(on his knees).

Stop! I have no more strength.

(Gets up.)

If I am so dear to thee,

Take me and all my Kingdom;

For all I have is thine, and likewise I myself.

Queen of Shemakhan
(disdainfully).

What shall I do with thee?

King Dodon.

What shalt thou do? Eat sweetmeats—
Rest, and listen to fairy tales.…
Except birds’ milk,

Everything will be provided for my little darling;

I shall spare nothing.

Queen of Shemakhan.

There is no reason to linger;

My preparations are made quickly.

Let us be on our way at once!

(Out of the tent there come in an endless file, every time moving apart the flaps of the tent, the slaves of The Queen, carrying looking-glasses, fans, coffers of precious things, pitchers, carpets, etc. They array The Queen. The army also get ready to move.)

King Dodon.

Ho! A horse!

A golden chariot

To carry the Queen!

Queen of Shemakhan
(standing beside Dodon).

I am ready. Ha, ha!

(To her slaves.)

Sing the praises of the Bridegroom.

Slaves.

Sisters! Who limps beside

The resplendent beauty?

He is a King by rank and dress—

But a slave—by body and soul.

With what shall we compare him?

Because of his rolling gait, he is like a camel!

Because of his wry face and odd ways,

He is like a real ape!

He is like a spectre!

(They bring in the chariot.)

King Dodon
(beside himself with joy).

Ho! Polkan! Sound the trumpets for

A victory!

I am going home with a bride!

(Trumpets, and cries of the army.)

The Soldiers.

Hurrah! Hurrah!

Hurrah!

CURTAIN.

TROISIÈME ACTE.

(Journée chaude et ensoleillée; mais à l’est, un lourd nuage noir avance lentement; l’air est chargé d’orage. De temps en temps arrivent des messagers essoufflés, qui apportent les dernières nouvelles. Ils montent l’escalier et disparaissent à l’intérieur. Tout le monde attend anxieusement l’arrivée du roi.)

Le Peuple.

J’ai grand peur amis!

Pourquoi?

Je l’ignore! Tiens-toi coi!

Nul malheur ne nous menace:

Voyez! Le coq d’or reste en place.

Il se prélasse au soleil.

Il ne donne point l’éveil.

Et le coq est de bon conseil!

Un nuage lourd d’orage

Apparaît à l’orient,

Noir, obscur, terrifiant!

Il pleuvra! Il grêlera!

Voici venir la tempête!

Oui, la tempête!

(Au haut de l’escalier apparaît l’intendante Amelfa; tous se précipitent vers elle.)

Le Peuple
(avec de grands saluts).

Viens-tu rassurer nos cœurs?

Nos soldats sont-ils vainqueurs?

Ont-ils chassé les rebelles?

De l’armée quelles nouvelles?

Amelfa
(d’une voix saccadée).

Ça ne vous regarde pas!

Détournez d’ici vos pas.

Le Peuple.

Grâce! l’attente est cruelle!

(Plusieurs assistants s’approchent d’Amelfa et s’efforcent de baiser le bas de sa robe. Elle les repousse.)

Amelfa.

Hé bien!

(Pour se défaire d’eux.)

Voici les nouvelles:

Quatre rois sont restés sur le carreau:

Trèfle, pique, cœur, carreau.

Notre armée triomphe seule.

Dodôn sauva de la gueule

D’un dragon la jeune reine

Qu’en triomphe il vous ramène.

Le Peuple
(sans beaucoup de joie).

Allégresse!

Mais les princes?

Il serait temps qu’ils revinssent!

Amelfa.

Ils ne vont pas revenir:

Notre roi les fit mourir.

Le Peuple
(avec effroi).

Sa justice est implacable!

Étaient-ils donc bien coupables?

Amelfa
(avec indifférence).

Ils sont mal tombés, voilà!

(Sur un ton de menace.)

Votre tour bientôt viendra!

Le Peuple
(ils se grattent la nuque et sourient stupidement).

Notre roi est seul le Maître!

Nous devons tous nous soumettre!

(On entend le son des trompettes.)

Amelfa.

Ils viennent. Tournoyez, sautez!

Montrez votre loyauté

Par des bonds et des grimaces,

Mais n’espérez point de grâces!

(Les menaçant du doigt, elle rentre dans le palais. Dans la rue commence le cortège triomphal. D’abord, les miliciens du roi, avec des airs importants et fanfarons; puis, la suite de la Reine de Chémakha, bariolée et bizarre, comme sortie d’un conte oriental: certains personnages n’ont qu’un œil, au milieu du front; d’autres ont des cornes, d’autres des têtes de chiens. Géants, nains. Éthiopiens grands et petits, esclaves voilées portant des cassettes et des vaisseaux précieux. Cette pompe insolite dissipe pour un instant l’anxiété du peuple. Tous s’amusent comme des enfants.—Le cortège de la reine.)

(Le Roi et La Reine apparaissent sur leur char doré. Le Roi paraît vieilli. Il a perdu sa prestance majestueuse. Son air est soucieux. Il regarde continuellement, avec tendresse, La Reine. Celle-ci s’est capricieusement tournée de côté et trahit de temps en temps par ses gestes brusques, un énervement caché. La foule se trémousse, saute, tournoie, pousse de joyeuses acclamations.)

Le Peuple.

Soyez bienvenus! Hourra!

Longue vie à notre roi!

Hourra! Hourra!

Vois tes serviteurs fidèles,

Dévoués et pleins de zèle,

Prêts à t’obéir toujours,

Afin d’embellir tes jours.

Nous nous mettrons à quatre pattes

Pour te dilater la rate.

Nous nous flanquerons des coups.

Le spectacle sera doux.

Nous ne sommes sur la terre

Que pour t’obéir, te plaire,

Que pour être tes jouets,

Tes esclaves dévoués!

(Sur le perron d’une des maisons apparaît l’Astrologue, toujours vêtu de sa robe bleue et la tête couverte de son bonnet.—Ayant aperçu l’Astrologue, La Reine l’examine longuement et avec attention.—Le Roi s’apprête à descendre, mais La Reine le retient, et, désignant du doigt l’Astrologue.)

La Reine
(d’un ton inquiet).

Quel est donc ce personnage?

Il a l’air fort grave et sage.

(La foule recule devant l’Astrologue et attend, silencieuse. La Reine observe toujours l’Astrologue. Coup de tonnerre lointain.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(joyeux de reconnaître son vieil ami).

Hé, bonjour, devin prudent,

Mon ami, mon confident!

Dis-nous, en ce jour propice,

Tes désirs, qu’ils s’accomplissent.

(L’Astrologue traverse la foule et s’approche du char royal. Il ne quitte point des yeux La Reine.)

L’Astrologue.

Roi sublime, j’obéis!

Liquidons en bons amis.

Hier, en ta reconnaissance,

Tu promis sans réticence

D’exaucer mon premier vœu:

Voici donc ce que je veux:

Sans tarder tiens ta promesse,

Fais moi don de la princesse.

Le Roi Dodôn.

Par le diable! C’est ainsi?

Ma réponse, la voici:

L’insolence est par trop grande,

Polisson! je te commande

De vider sans plus ces lieux.

Chassez-moi d’ici ce vieux!

(Les gardes entraînent le vieillard, qui se débat.)

L’Astrologue.

C’est donc la.…

Le Roi Dodôn
(furieux.)

Quoi, tu discutes?

Tu veux entamer la lutte?

(Il lui applique un coup de sceptre sur la tête. L’Astrologue tombe inanimé et rend l’esprit. Frémissement dans l’assistance. Des nuages voilent le soleil; le tonnerre gronde.)

La Reine
(à part, éclate de rire).

Hihihi! Hahahaha!

Que c’est drôle, tout cela!

(Dodôn est fort troublé, mais il continue de regarder La Reine en souriant.)

Le Roi Dodôn
(avec une terreur superstitieuse).

Juste avant le mariage!

C’est un bien mauvais présage.…

Ce sang… Un malheur s’ensuivra…

La Reine
(sèchement).

Hé bien, qui vivra verra,

Voilà tout!

Le Roi Dodôn
(tranquillisé et avec ivresse).

Par nos caresses

Célébrons notre allégresse.

(Il veut embrasser La Reine, mais elle le repousse avec fureur et dégoût).

La Reine.

Disparais, monstre hideux,

Toi et ton peuple odieux!

C’est assez! ton âme immonde

Trop longtemps souilla le monde.

Tu souris, vieux scélérat,

Mais ton châtiment viendra!

Le Roi Dodôn
(avec un sourire contraint).

Ma princesse, tu plaisantes…

La Reine.

Non, plus à l’heure présente.

(Ils montent l’escalier.)

La Voix du Coq.

Cocoricocou!

Je te percerai d’un coup.

Chœur.

Kchi! Kchi! Kchi! Kchi!

(Subitement, Le Coq s’envole de sa flèche et voltige au-dessus de la foule. Tous, épouvantés, agitent les bras pour le chasser.—Le Coq donne un grand coup de bec sur la tête du Roi, qui tombe mort. Épouvante générale: violent coup de tonnerre.—Une obscurité complète se fait pour un moment, durant lequel on entend le rire tranquille de La Reine.)

La Voix de la Reine.

Hihihihi! Hahahaha!

(Quand la nuit s’est dissipée, on ne voit plus La Reine, ni Le Coq.)

Le Peuple
(avec stupéfaction).

Où donc est la reine?

Envolée! Ah! notre âme est affolée.…

(avec espoir.)

Mais le roi?

(Tristement.)

Il est bien mort.

Quel invraisemblable sort.

(Écrasé de douleur, Le Peuple entier entonne une lamentation funèbre.)

Il est mort… O peine amère!

Notre prince! Notre père!

Notre seigneur sans pareil,

Qui brillait comme un soleil!

Il était prudent, sagace,

Paresseux, rêveur, bonasse!

Sa colère était terrible,

Sa fureur incoercible.

Il nous frappait comme un sourd

Plus souvent qu’à notre tour.

Mais l’orage enfin passé,

L’on pouvait se prélasser

Sous son ombre tutélaire;

Il était pour nous un père.

(avec un profond désespoir.)

Quel terrible désarroi!

Qui va nous donner un roi?

(Ils s’écroulent par terre et sanglotent.)

RIDEAU.

CONCLUSION.

(L’Astrologue, écartant le rideau, se présente.)

L’Astrologue
(aux spectateurs).

Nobles spectateurs, mes frères,
Ce dénouement sanguinaire
Ne doit point vous émouvoir.
Ceux que vous venez de voir
N’étaient que de vains fantômes.
Sachez que dans le royaume
De Dodôn, la reine et moi,
Étions seuls humains… voilà!

(Il salue et disparaît.)

ACT III.

(Stifling heat. Although the sun is shining, a heavy black cloud is creeping from the East and the air is charged with a presentiment of a dreadful thunderstorm. From time to time runners, out of breath, enter, ascend the staircase and disappear within the palace. All await the royal cortege in vague alarm.)

People
(amongst themselves).

It is dreadful! What is it?

I don’t know myself. There’s nothing to fear;

Nothing bad will happen to us.

You see the golden cock is not beating his wings,

And is sticking up in the sun!

He warms his back and keeps silent.

If there was any misfortune he would awaken.

Look at that sullen, heavy cloud

Coming up from the East.

It carries evil in its dark depths.

There will be rain in the city;

Yes, and with thunder, even hail as well.

(The Royal Housekeeper, Amelfa, appears on the upper steps of the stairway. All rush towards her.)

People
(bowing).

Be kind! Honoured mother,

And tell us if the Army is safe.

Are we to have peace, or misfortune?

You know. There were runners.

Amelfa
(curtly).

There were. Only it is no affair of yours.

Away with you! That is all I have to say.

People.

Be merciful! Our hearts are sore.

(Many of them run to Amelfa and try to kiss the hem of her dress. She pushes them away.)

Amelfa.

Go away!

(Wishing to get rid of them.)

Here’s the news!

You see, there are four Kings—

Hearts, Spades, Clubs, and Diamonds;

Our King has conquered them.

He has saved from the Dragon’s jaws

A Royal Maiden.

She will be our Queen!

People
(without any special joy).

Well! We shall have a holiday!

But where are our hope—the Princes?

Amelfa.

The King has put them in chains

And has punished them with a cruel death.

People
(shuddering).

Ah! Heavy is the Royal hand!

What did they do?

Amelfa
(indifferently).

They had bad luck.

Something awaits you, too!

(threateningly.)

People
(scratching their heads and stupidly smiling).

We are yours, body and soul;

If we are beaten we have deserved it.

(A sound of trumpets is heard.)

Amelfa.

They are coming! Jump like goats—

Turn somersaults for very joy.

Greet the King loudly—

But do not expect mercy.

(Threatening them once again with her finger, Amelfa enters the palace. The triumphant procession begins to pass by. First come the Royal Warriors, on foot and mounted, with faces puffed up with pride. Then the suite of The Queen of Shemakhan, of as many colours and as fantastic as those in Eastern fairy tales. There are giants and dwarfs, people with one eye in the middle of their forehead, people with horns, with heads like a dog, negros and negro boys, female slaves covered with veils carrying coffers and precious plate. The curious splendour of the procession disperses for a time the weight of expectation. All become as gay as children.)

(The golden chariot appears with the King and Queen. The King has aged somewhat, has become restless, has lost his majestic carriage, and all the time looks fondly into the eyes of the haughty Queen. The Queen capriciously turns away, expressing her secret impatient irritation by jerky movements. The People move about, jump, turn somersaults, and shout a joyful welcome.)

People
(shouting).

Long life to thee! Hurrah!

May thou have every good thing!

(Begin to sing.)

“We are thy faithful servants,
Who kiss the Royal feet.
We are glad to serve thee,
To amuse thee with our foolishness,
To box for thee upon a holiday,
To bark, to crawl on all fours,
So that thy hours may flow quickly
And may bring sweet sleep.
Without thee we should have no
Reason for existing;
For thee we were born
And for thee we have had children.”

(The Astrologer appears in the portico of one of the houses, in the same blue garment and high hat. Having observed the Astrologer, the Queen looks at him long and steadfastly. The King, wishing to descend, is stopped by the Queen, who points out the Astrologer to him.)

Queen of Shemakhan
(uneasily).

Who is that standing there in the white hat

And with hair as white as a swan?

(The crowd parts before the Astrologer, and is dumb with expectation. The Queen follows his movements.)

King Dodon
(delighted to see his old acquaintance).

Ah! It’s thou, my wise man,

My benefactor and father!

What hast thou to say to us on this festal occasion?

Come nearer! What dost thou ask of us?

(The Astrologer wends his way through the crowd to the chariot, not taking his eyes off the Queen.)

Astrologer.

Great King! It is I.

Let us settle matters as friends.

Dost thou remember that in return for an obligation

Thou didst swear, in transports of delight, to fulfil

My first wish as if it were thy own?

Give the maiden to me—

The Queen of Shemakhan.

King Dodon
(trying to bring The Astrologer to his senses).

What! Has the devil got into thee?

Or hast thou lost thy senses?

What has got into thy head?

Away with thee, before I injure thee!

Drag the old man away!

(The guards drag The Astrologer away. He resists.)

Astrologer.

Is it to be thus?

King Dodon
(raging).

Art thou going to argue again?

I shall show thee how to argue with me!

(Strikes him on the forehead with his sceptre. He falls down dead. All the people shudder. The sun goes behind a cloud and a clap of thunder is heard.)

Queen of Shemakhan
(laughing to herself).

Ha! Ha! Ha! I am not afraid of sin.

(Dodon very agitated, but still smiles fondly upon The Queen.)

King Dodon
(superstitiously).

I hope it will not bring misfortune

On the eve of marriage!

It is not good to shed blood upon a wedding day!

Queen of Shemakhan
(curtly).

There will be a scuffle at the banquet—

That is all.

King Dodon
(tranquilly, in a caressing tone).

Let us kiss each other—

To drive away the evil omen!

(Dodon tries to embrace and kiss The Queen. She, with anger and aversion, pushes him away.)

Queen of Shemakhan.

May thou perish, wicked monster!

And thy people!

How can the earth endure such as you?

Wait! Grey-headed babbler!

Thy death is not far off!

King Dodon
(smiling pitifully).

Thou art still joking, my dear!

Queen of Shemakhan.

No! Already we have had a sorry jest.

(They ascend the staircase. Suddenly the cock begins to fly and circles above their heads. All wave him off with their hands.)

Voice of the Bird.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

I shall peck the old man on the crown of his head!

Chorus.

Sh! Sh! Sh! Sh!

(The Cock pecks Dodon on the head, and he falls dead. A clap of thunder. All struck dumb. For a moment total darkness, in which is heard the quiet laugh of The Queen. When it grows light again neither Queen nor the bird is seen.)

People
(to each other, in astonishment).

Where is the Queen?

She has vanished

As if she had never been at all!

(Hopefully.)

Is the King groaning?

(Sadly.)

No! He is dead—if it is not all a dream!

(Crushed by despair, the people finally break into mournful sobbing.)

The King is dead! Our dear one is killed!
Our happy, our debonnair, and
Never-to-be-forgotten King!
Lord of Lords!
He was most wise,
And ruled the Kingdom with his
Hands folded, lying at his ease.…
It’s true! Our King in anger
Was like a thunderbolt from the heaven,
Which strikes at random,
Carrying destruction right and left,
But when the cloud is passed
The heavy air is fresher,
And the King, like the golden dawn,
Lightens all without distinction.

(In perplexity.)

What will a new dawn bring?

How shall we live without a King?

(They fall on their faces and weep inconsolably.)

CURTAIN.

EPILOGUE.

(Moving apart the folds of the curtain, The Astrologer looks out.)

Astrologer
(to the audience).

There! My story’s ended;
But the bloody conclusion,
However sad it may be,
Need not disturb you.
Perhaps the Queen and I
Were the only living people in it;
The rest were—a delirium, a dream;
A pale spectre, nothing more.…

(Disappears.)

Transcriber’s Note

Liste des modifications au texte (and a few changes to the English too).

Acte premier

“viel” -> vieil (un vieil Astrologue)

Solonnellement -> Solennellement (Solennellement.)

chambre -> chambres (à la porte des chambres du fond)

paleis -> palais (les serviteurs se précipitent dans le palais)

prèpicitamment -> précipitamment (Amelfa va se cacher précipitamment.)

s’endorment d’endorment d’un sommeil -> s’endorment d’un sommeil
e -> et (Règne et dors)

trampettes -> trompettes (Des trompettes sonnent.)

dacher précipitament -> cacher précipitamment (Amelfa va se cacher précipitamment.)

lours -> lourd (Ce glaive, qu’il est lourd!)

on -> en (allons, en route!)

Deuxième acte
las -> les (on les dirait pétrifiés)

pleine -> pleins (Leurs yeux fixes pleins)

le -> la (la steppe solitaire)

(deux fois) Saint-on -> sait-on (Sait-on charmer)

l’armant -> l’amant (l’amant, l’heureux amant)

Avant -> Ayant (Ayant fini de chanter)

ae -> de (Dodôn s’approche gravement de la reine.)

N’ais -> N’aie (N’aie pas peur de nous)

I -> De (De Chémakha je suis la reine)

Fais -> Fait (Fait silence.)

viens l’ombre -> viens dans l’ombre
solonnel -> solennel (Le Roi Dodôn (solennel).)

appallent -> appellent (Celui que tes vœux appellent)

Le -> La (La Reine (abasourdie).)

bland -> blanc (tout sauf le merle blanc)

ta -> la (Chantez la gloire du fiancé!)

fancé -> fiancé (Je suis fiancé: victoire!)

Act Two
ges -> gets (Polkan gets up hurriedly)

tht -> the (the blue sea)

Troisième acte
lours -> lourd (un lourd nuage noir avance lentement)

A Grêlera -> Il grêlera (Il pleuvra! Il grêlera!)

bariolé -> bariolée (la suite de la Reine de Chémakha, bariolée et bizarre)

rice -> rire (La Reine (à part, éclate de rire).)

vera -> verra (Hé bien, qui vivra verra)

Parresseux -> Paresseux (Paresseux, rêveur, bonasse!)

So -> Sa (Sa colère était terrible)

Act Three

What is? -> What is it? (It is dreadful! What is it?)

chidren -> children (And for thee we have had children)

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Table of Contents

- Le Coq d’Or (The Golden Cock)

- Transcriber’s Note

- ARGUMENT.

- DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- PROLOGUE.

- ACTE PREMIER.

- PROLOGUE

- ACT I.

- DEUXIÈME ACTE.

- ACT II.

- TROISIÈME ACTE.

- CONCLUSION.

- ACT III.

- EPILOGUE.

- Transcriber’s Note

- Acte premier
- Deuxième acte
- Act Two
- Troisième acte
- Act Three

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE