v J -•^ ^^ ^i CYRANO DE BERGERAC A PLAY IN nVE ACTS, BY EDMOND ROSTAND. With Some Forewords BY CHARLES F. RIDEAL, Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, Etc. F. TENNYSON NEELY, PUBLISHER, LONDON, NEW YORK. Copyright, 1898, by . F. Tennyson Nkkly, /t"— in ^ United States t/} and f^^ Great Britain. ^ _ /n All Rights Reserved. . <• r/ PQ FOREWORDS. Monsieur Edmond de Eostakd's name is the one witli which the literary world is at the moment conjuring, and France — witty, viva- cious France — elegant, eccentric, popular, peculiar, careless, contradictory, desultory, decadent France — is responsible for his promi- nence. The country which has given us the bright- est of minds — a Voltaire, and the most heart- less of personalities — a Napoleon. A country teeming with charm, and color, and brilliancy of the most entrancing and varied kinds, now, alas, has written upon its waP '., in an un- mistakable handwriting, and in all its awful significance, the terrible word "Doomed:" while around the lintel posts of its cities are IV FOREWORDS. sprinkled the evidences of its own incapacity. This country, famed the world around, has revived for us a passing glimpse of its former greatness by presenting us with "Cyrano de Bergerac, " as a reminder of its once intellec- tual massiveness and individuality. Dwindling in population. Eotten to the core, politically. Ungoverned, and ungov- ernable. Savage in the intensity of a bit- ter, revengeful hatred. Light with the levity of a low licentiousness. Its once all-power- ful aristocracy now in oblivion. A rev- olution glaring at it with ravenous gaze, snarling and angry teeth. Its arts and letters, once the pride of a Universe, now in dreary decay. Suffering with the anguish of a mili- tary despotism, distorting and disruptive. Kuled by braying Boulevardiers. Controlled by conscienceless Cocottes. Balked by the blatant Braves of the Brassieres, and spurred on by a salacious and subsidized press, a re- proach to civilization, it is hurling itself from its pinnacle of chivalry and lustre down to the FOREWORDS. V very lowest depths of intrigue and disgrace. Relinquishing its hold on the world of nations, it is rapidly becoming a scornful by -word of the European Continent, and securing its own niche in the porticoes of the tenth-rate Latin powers, promising with a fecund promise to become, within the next couple of decades, as effete and futile as its immediate cousin and neighbor Spain. What a picture ! In sorrow it is sketched. In vain regret this dirge is penned. In thorough sympathy with its honest, frugal, struggling peasantry, vastly to be admired, it may safely, though sorrowfully, be predicted that the downfall of the former glori- ous and prosperous Empire of France, the home of grandeur, pomp and pageantry, peo- pled by descendants of a hardy Norse ancestry, children of Vikings, and steel, and character, who never bent a knee to a foe, showed a back to an enemy, or did an action unworthy of their splendid selves. Where are you now, France? Why are you tottering in VI FOREWORDS. the blindness of your own destiny with not a single hand worthy of your name stretched out to save you from an imminent destruction? A dire, dismal picture indeed, and your own people are mixing the colors, filling them in, and only relieving its shades by spurtive efforts such as a dying race puts forth in its desperation. Shame on you, France ! Where is your man- hood ? Where are the trusty captains to lead you? Where are the faithful followers to press on in the paths of glory and renown? Have they all been sucked into the maelstrom that augurs your engulfment? Are they all empty, self-seeking creatures with a clap-trap energy, intent on mundane garbage only? Surely you. Ma Belle France, the petted dar- ling of nations, the great birth-mother of art, philosophy, science, thought, and pleasure — surely you have some sons left worthy of your origin and former fame who will labor and fight for your freedom and good fortune, who will buckle on their armor for your better and FOREWORDS. vii Ligher welfare, slvj. Jescue you from threaten- ing annihilation 'avs it is too late to escape. To turn to another picture, and one more pleasant to gaze upon, it is a delight to dis- cover that France has, in spite of its ten- sion and diflSculties, produced a Kostand, who has handled the hero of this play so cleverly and so delicately, with a subtle humor, half mingled with a pathos most charmingly drawn. To give the hero his full name, Savinien or Savinin Cyrano de Bergerac, was born in Perigord in the year 1620, at a period which might not inaptly be compared to the English Elizabethan one in its freedom and fullness of promise, and he died in Paris, the scene.of his many amorous gayeties and ardent escapades, in the year 1655. The play "Cyrano de Bergerac" is distin- guished chiefly by two things : first, the hero's enormous development of nose, almost amount- ing to repuisiveness ; second, his innate love of riotous dissipation — two characteristics. Viil FOREWORDS. certain, sooner or later, of getting the possessor of them into much adventure and trouble. With it all, Cyrano de Bergerac was a brave man, and could fight like all brave men did in those days, neither giving nor taking quarter. In his great courage he is reported to have slain no less than nine desperadoes, besides putting a large number to flight, out of a mob of one hundred miscreants who attempted to impede and obstruct him on one particular occasion. While in various minor turmoils, he, the reckless swashbuckler, greatly distin- guished himself with sword, fist, and boot, putting into his brief career of thirty-three years' duration an amount of life and "go" amply sufficient for the experiences of quite a dozen ordinary men. He also wrote two dramas, and these appear to be about the whole of the literary work he accomplished. They stand out in these somewhat unfavorable modern days as examples that many living writers might with advantage endeavor to follow. He was u ►Shakespeare of his time, his unique per- FOREWORDS. IX sonality being full of Falstaffian humor, and his many peregrinations doing credit to an Othello. The titlec of his plays are: "The Widow of Germanicus, ' ' and "The Scholar Deceived, ' ' and they teem with vivid brightness, much to be admired, although the reader may not alto- gether be pleased with the taste, or rather the want of it, displayed in some portions of them by their talented author. In rollicking times as those he lived in, the plays met with considerable favor, as much because of their author's unique personality, and the great and varied experiences he man- aged to squeeze into his not by any means lengthy existence, as of the intrinsic merit of the plays themselves. A number of ingenious, if not impossible, situations are somewhat crowded into them, and the characters are distinguished by most of them being of a minor kind, but none could be cut out without seriously detracting from the plays as a whole. M. Kostand has also made use of a fairly X FOREWORDS. long dramatis personae, giving a very incisive and clean-cut production, every page of inter- est, and well worthy of study by all admirers of the subject and the drama. When three such masters of the present age, M. Coquelin, Sir Henry Irving, and Mr. Mansfield under- take the production of M. Rostand's work, it may safely be taken that "Cyrano de Bergerac, " as here presented by him with the necessary adaptations to render it available for dramatic purposes in this country, is an evi- dence of a striking and interesting piece of work. There is one passage made use of by Le Bret, and here quoted, which would at the present day, in the confusion of the ill-starred French nation, seem to have been almost es- pecially written for its benefit, or intended as a prophetic warning. Did Cyrano de Bergerac ever contemplate the downfall of his magnificent race? Or did he write under inspiration? It is: FOREWORDS. XI " How in the devil's name Have you conceived this lunatic idea, To make foes for yourself at every turn?" "With this I venture to leave the perusal of a work, well worthy to be ranked with any of the masterpieces of the past three centuries, in the hands of those disposed to read through its pages. Chaeles F. Kedeal. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ACT I. A Representation at the Hotel de Bourgognk. The hall of the Hotel de Bourgogne, in 1G40. A sort of tennis-court arranged and decorated for a theatrical performance. The hall is oblong and seen obliquely, so that one of its sides forms the back of the right foreground, and meeting the left background makes an angle with the stage, which is partly visible. On both sides of the stage are benches. The curtain is composed of two tapestries which can be drawn aside. Above a harlequin's mantle are the royal arms. There are broad steps from the stage to the hall ; on either side of these steps are the places for the violinists. Footlights. Two rows, one over the other, of side galleries : the highest divided into boxes. No seats in the pit of the hall, which is the real stage of the theater; at the back of the pit, i. e., on 6 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. the right foreground, some benches forming steps, and underneath, a staircase which leads to the upper seats. An improvised buffet ornamented with little lusters, vases, glasses, plates of tarts, cakes, bottles, etc. The entrance to the theater is in the center of the background, under the gallery of the boxes. A large door, half open to let in the specta- tors. On the panels of this door, in differ- ent corners, and over the buffet, red placards bearing the words, "La Clorise. " At the rising of the curtain the hall is in semi- darkness, and still empty. The lusters are lowered in the middle of the pit ready to be lighted. SCENE I. Tlie Public, arriving hy degrees. Troopers, Burgh- ers, Lackeys, Pages, a Pickpocket, th' Door- keeper, etc. , followed hy the Marquises. Cuigy, Brissaille, the Buffet-Girl, the Violinists, etc. \^A confusion of loud voices is heard outside the door. A Trooper enters hastily.'] The Doorkeeper [foUoxoing him]. Hollo ! You there ! Your money ! The Trooper. I enter gratis. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 7 The Doorkeeper. Why? The Trooper. Why? lam of the King's Household Cavalry, 'faith! The Doorkeeper [to another Trooper who enters]. And you ? Second Trooper. I pay nothing The Doorkeeper. How so? Second Trooper. I am a musketeer. First Trooper. [to the second]. The play will not begin till two. The pit is empty. Come, a bout with the foils to pass the time. [They fence with the ^oils they have brought.] A Lackey [entering], Pst . . . Flanquin! . . . Another [already there]. Champagne? . . . 8 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The F1R8T [showing him cards and dice which he takes ^rom his doublet]. See, here be cards and dice. [He seats himself on the floor]. Let's play. The Second [doing the same]. Good ; I am with j'ou, villain ! First Lackey [taking from his pocket a candle-end, which he lights, and sticks on the floor], I made free to provide myself with light at my master's expense! A Guardsman [to a Shop-Girl who advances]. 'Twas prettily done to come before the lights were lit ! [He takes her round the ivaist. ] One of the Fencers [receiving a thrust]. A hit! Clubs! A kiss! One of the Card-Players. The Guardsman [following the girl]. The Shop-Girl [struggling to free herself]. They're looking! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 9 The Guardsman [^drawing her to a dark corner^ No fear ! No one can see ! A Man [sitting on the ground with others xoho have brought their iwovisions']. By coming early, one can eat in comfort. A Burgher [conducting his son]. Let us sit here, son. A Card-Player. Triple ace ! A Man [taking a bottle from under his cloak, and also seating himself on the floor]. A tippler may well quaff his Burgundy [he drinks] in the Burgundy Hotel! The Burgher [to his son]. 'Faith ! A man might think he had fallen in a bad house here ! [He points ivith his cane to the drunkard.] What with topers! [one of the fencers in breaking off , jostles him] brawlers! [he stumbles into the midst of the card-2)layers] gamblers! The Guardsman [behind him, still teasing the Shop-Girl]. Come, one kiss! 10 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Burgher [hurriedly pulling his son away]. By all the holies! And this, my boy, is the theater where they played Itotrou erewhile. The Young Man. Ay, and Corneille ! A Troop of Pages [hand-in hand, enter dancing the farandole, and singing']. Tra' a la, la, la, la, la, la, la, lere . . . The Doorkeeper [sternly, to the Pages]. You pages there, none of j'our tricks! . . . First Page [with an air of ivounded dignity]. Oh, sir! — such a suspicion! . . . [Briskly, to the Second Page, the moment the Doorkeeper's back is turned.] Have you string? The Second. Ay, and a fish-hook with it. First Page. We can angle for wigs, then, up there i' th' gallery. A Pickpocket. [gathering about him some evU-looking youths]. Hark ye, young cut-i)urses, lend an ear, while I give you your first lesson in thieving. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 11 Secokd Page [calling up to others in the top galleries]. You there! Have you peashooters? Third Page [from above]. Ay, have we, and peas withal! [He blows, and peppers them with peas]. The Young Man [to his father]. What piece do they give us? The Burgher. "Clorise." The Young Man. "Who may the author be? The Burgher. Master Balthazar Baro. It is a play ! . . . [Re goes up arm-in-arm with his son.] The Pickpocket [to his Pupils]. Have a care, above all, of the lace knee-ruffles —cut them off I A Spectator [to another, showing him a corner in the gallery]. I was up there, the first night of the "Cid." The Pickpocket [making with his fingers the gesture of filching]. Thus for watches 12 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Burgher [coming down again with his son\ Ah! You shall presently see some renowned actors . . . The Pickpocket [making the gestures of one who pulls something stealthily, ivith little jerks]. Thus for handkerchiefs The Burgher Montfleury . . . Some One [shouting from the upper gallery'\. Light up, below there! The Burgher. . . . Bellerose, L'Epj', La Beaupre, Jodelet! A Page [in the pit]. Hdr« comes the buffet-girl ! The Buffet-Girl [taking her 2^1 ace behind the bufet]. Oranges, milk, raspberry -water, cedar bitters! • • • [A hubbub outside the door is heard]. A Falsetto Voice . Make place, brutes! A Lackey [astonished]. The Martiuises! — in the pit? . , , CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 13 Another Lackey Oh! only for a minute or two! [Enter a band of young Marquises.] A Marquis [seeing that the hall is half empty~\. What now! So we make our entrance like a pack of woolen-drapers! Peaceably, without dis- turbing the folk, or treading on their toes! — Oh, fie! fie! [Recognizing some other gentlemen who have entered a little before him.~\ Cuigy! Brissaille! [Greetings and embraces.^ Cuigy. True to our word ! . . . Troth, we are here before the caudles are lit. The Marquis. Ay, indeed! Enough! I am of an ill humor. Another. Nay, nay. Marquis ! see, for your consolation, they are coming to light up! All the Audience [welcoming the entrance of the lighter^. Ah! . . . [They form in groups 7-ound the lusters as they are lit. Some people have taken their seats in the galleries. Ligniere, a distinguished-looking roue, with disordered shirt-front arm-in-arm with 14 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Christian de Neuvillette. Christian, icho is dressed elegantly, but rather behind the fashion, seems preoccupied, and keeps looking at the boxes. ] SCENE II. The Same. Christian, Ligniere, then Kagueneau and Le Bret. CUIGY. Ligniere! Brissaille [laughing']. Not drunk as j-^et? Ligniere [Aside to Christian.] I may introduce you? [Christian nods in assent.] Baron de Neuvillette. [Bows.] The Audience [applauding as the first luster is lighted and drawn up]. Ah! CUIGT [to Brissaille, looking at Christian]. 'Tis a pretty fellow ! First Marquis [who has overheard.] Pooh! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 15 LlGNIERE [introducing them to Christian]. My lords De Cuigy. De Brissaille . . . Christian [bowingl. Delighted! . . . First Marquis [to Second. ] He is not ill to look at, but certes, he is not costumed in the latest mode. LiGNIERE [to Cuigy]. This gentleman comes from Touraine. Christian. Yes, I have scarce been twenty days in Paris; to-morrow I join the Guards, in the Cadets. First Marquis [watching the people who are coming into the boxes']. There is the wife of the Chief-Justice. The Buffet-Girl. Oranges, milk . . . The Violinists [tuning up]. La — la — Cuigy [to Christian, pointing to the hall, which is filling fasf]. 'Tis crowded. 16 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Chhistian. Yes, indeed. First Marquis, All the great world! [They recognize and name the different elegantly dressed ladies xoho enter the boxes, bowing low to them. TJie ladies send smiles in answer.] Second Marquis. Madame de Guemenee. CuiGY. Madame de Bois-Dauphin. First Marquis. Adored by us all! Brissaille. Madame de Chavigny . . . Second Marquis. "Who sports with our poor hearts! . . . LiGNIERE. Ha! so Monsieur de Corneille has come back from Eouen! The Young Man [to his father]. Is the Academy here? The Burgher. Oh, ay, I see several of them. There is Boudu, Boissat, and Cureau de la Chambre, Porcheres, Colomby, Bourzej's, Bourdon, Arbaud ... all names that will live! 'Tis line! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 17 First Marquis. Attention! Here come our precieuses; Barthe- noide, Urimedonte, Cassaudace, Felixerie. . . . Second Marquis. Ah! How exquisite their fancy names are! Do you know them all. Marquis? First Marquis. Ay, Marquis, I do, every one! LiGNIERE [drawing Christian asidel. Friend, I but came here to give you pleasure. The lady comes not. I will betake me again to my pet vice. Christian [persua.'iively]. No, no! You, who are ballad-maker to Court and City alike, can tell me better than any who the lady is for whom I die of love. Stay yet awhile. The First Violin [striking his bow on the desk']. Gentlemen violinists! [He raises his bow. J The Buffet-Girl. Macaroons, lemon-drink . . . [The violins begin to play.] Christian, Ah ! I fear me she is coquettish, and over nice 18 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. and fastidious! I, who am so poor of wit, how dare I speak to her — how address her? This language that they speak to-day — ay, and write — confounds me; I am but an honest soldier, and timid withal. She has ever her place, there, on the right — the empty box, see you 1 LiGNIERE [making as if to go], I must go. Christian [detaining /urn]. Nay, stay. LiGNIERE. I cannot. D'Assoucy waits me at the tavern, and here one dies of thirst. The Buffet-Girl [ passing before him with a tra^j]. Orange drink? LiGNIERE. Ughl The Buffet-Girl. Milk? LiGNIERE. Pah! The Buffet-Girl. Bivesalte ? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 19 LiGNIERE. Stay. [Tb Christian.] I will remain awhile. — Let me taste this rivesalte. [He sits by the buffet; the girl pours some out/or him. ] Cries [from all the audience, at the entrance of a plump little man, joyously excited]. Ah ! Eagueneau ! LiGNlERE [to Christian]. 'Tis the famous tavern-keeper Eagueneau. Eagueneau [dressed in the Sunday clothes of a pastry-cook, going up quickly to Ligniere]. Sir, have you seen Monsieur de Cyrano? Ligniere [introducing him to Christian]. The pastry-cook of the actors and the poets! Eagueneau [overcomel. You do me too great honor . . . Ligniere. Nay, hold your peace, Maecenas that you are! Eagueneau. True, these gentlemen employ me . . . Ligniere. On credit! He is himself a poet of a pretty talent . . . 20 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Raqueneau. So they tell me. LiGNIERE. — Mad after poetry ! Ragueneau. 'Tis true that, for a little ode . . . LiGNIERE. You give a tart . . . Eagueneau. Oh!— a tartlet! LiGNIERE. Brave fellow! he would fain fain excuse him- self! — And for a triolet, now, did you not give in exchange ... Ragueneau. Some little rolls! LiGNIERE [severely]. They were milk-rolls! And as for the theater, which 3'ou love? Ragueneau. Oh! to distraction! LiGNIERE. How pay you your tickets, ha? — with cakes. Your place, to-night, come tell me in my ear, what did it cost you? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 21 Ragueneau. Four custards, and fifteen cream-puiOfs. [He looks around on all sides. '\ Monsieur de Cyrano is not here? 'Tis strange. LiGNIERE. Why so? Eagueneau. Montfleury plays! Lignieee. Ay, 'tis true that that old wine-barrel is to take Phoedon's part to-night; but what matter is that to Cyrano? Eagueneau. How? Know you not? He has got a hot hate for Montfleury, and so! — has forbid him strictly to show his face on the stage for one whole month. LiGNIERE [drinJcing his fourth glassl. Well? Eagueneau. Montfleury will play! CuiGY. He can not hinder that. Eagueneau. Oh! oh! that I have come to seel First Marquis. Who is this Cyrano? 23 CYRANO DE BEKGERAC. Cdigy. A fellow well skilled in all tricks of fence. Second Marquis. Is he of noble birth? CuiGY. Ay, noble enough. He is a cadet in the Guards. IPointing to a gentleman who is going up and down the hall as if searching for some one. ] But 'tis his friend Le Bret, yonder, who can best tell you. [He calls him.] Le Bret! [Le Bret comes foivards them.'} Seek you for De Bergerac ? Le Bret. Ay ; I am uneasy . . . CUIGY. Is it not true that he is the strangest of men? Le Bret [tenderly]. True, that he is the choicest of earthly beings! Eagueneau. Poet! Soldier! Philosopher! Musician! CuiGY. Brissaille. Le Bret. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 23 LiGNlERE. And of how fantastic a presence! Kagueneau. Marry, 'twould puzzle even our grim painter Philippe de Champaigne to portray him! Me- thinks, whimsical, wild, comical as he is, only Jacques Callot, now dead and gone, had suc- ceeded better, and had made of him the maddest fighter of all his visored crew — with his triple- plumed beaver and six-pointed doublet — the sword-point sticking up 'neath his mantle like an insolent cocktail! He's prouder than all the fierce Artabans of whom Gascony has ever been and will ever be the prolific Alma Mater! Above his Toby ruff he carries a nose! — ah, good my lords, what a nose is his! When one sees it one is fain to cry aloud, "Nay! 'tis too much! He plays a joke on us!" Then one laughs, says, "He will anon take it off." But no! — Monsieur de Bergerac always keeps it on. Le Bret [throwing hack his head]. He keeps it on — and cleaves in two any man who dares remark on it! Kagueneau [proudly]. His sword — 'tis one half of the Fates' shears! 24 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. First Marquis [shrugging his shoulders'}. He will not come! Eagueneau. I say he will! and I wager a fowl — a la Eagueneau. The Marquis [laughing}. Good! [Murmurs of admiration in the hall. Eoxake has just appeared in her box. She seats herself in front, the duenna at the back. Christian, who is paying the Buffet-Girl, does not see her entrance. ] Second Marquis [with little cries of joy}. Ah, gentlemen! she is fearfully — terribly — ravishing ! First Marquis. When one looks at her one thinks of a peach smiling at a strawberry! Second Marquis. And what freshness! A man approaching her too near might chance to get a bad chill at the heart I CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 25 Christian. [raising his head, sees Eoxane, and catches Ligniere by the onji]. 'Tisshel LiGNIERE. Ah! is it she? Christian. Ay, tell me quick — I am afraid. LiGNIERE [tasting his rivesalte in sips']. Magdaleine Eobin — Roxane, so called 1 A subtle wit — a precieuse. Christian. Woe is me! LiGNIERE. Free. An orphan. The cousin of Cyrano, of whom we were now speaking. [At this moment an elegant nobleman, with blue ribbon across his breast, enters the box, and talks with EoxANE, standing.] Christian. [starting]. "Who is yonder man ? LiGNIERE [ivho is becoming tipsy, winking at him]. Ha! ha! Count de Guiche. Enamored of her. But wedded to the niece of Armaud de Richelieu. Would fain marry Eoxane to a certain sorry fel- 26 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. low, one Monsieur de Valvert, a viscount — and — accommodating! She will none of that bargain; but De Guicbe is powerful, and can persecute the daughter of a plain untitled gentleman. More by token, I myself have exposed this cunning plan of bis to the world, in a song which . . . Hoi he must rage at me! The end hit home. . . Listen! [he gets up staggering, and raises his glass, ready to sing']. Christian. No. Good-night. LiGNIERE. Where go you ? Christian. To Monsieur de Valvert! LiGNIKRE. Have a care! It is he who will kill you [show- ing him. RoxANE by a look]. Stay where you are — she is looking at you. Christian. It is true! [He stands looking at her. The group of pickpockets seeing him thus, head in air and open-mouthed, draw near to him.] LiGNIERE. 'Tis I who am going. I am athirst! And they expect me — in the taverns! [He goes out, reeling]. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 27 Le Bret. 'ivho has been all round the hall, coming hack to Eagueneau reassured']. No sign of Cyraoo. Ragueneau [incredulously]. All the same . . . Le Bret. A hope is left to me — that he has not seen the playbill! The Audience. Begin, begin! SCENE III. The Same, all hut Ligniere. De Guiche, Valvert, then Montfleury. A Marquis [watching De Guiche, ivho comes down from Eox- ane's box, and crosses the pit surrounded by obsequious noblemen, among them the Vicomte DE Valvert]. He pays a fine court, your De Guiche! Another. Faugh! . . . Another Gascon L The First. Ay, but the cold, supple Gascon — that is the 28 CYRANO DE BERCERAC. stuff success is made of! Believe me, we had best make our bow to bim. [ They go toward De Guiche. ] Second Marquis. What fine ribbons! How call you the color. Count de Guiche? "Kiss me, my darling," or "Timid Fawn?" De Guiche. 'Tis the color called "Sick Spaniard." First Marquis. 'Faith! The color speaks truth, for, thanks to your valor, things will soon go ill for Spain in Flanders. De Guiche. I go on the stage! Will you come? [fie goes toicard the stage, followed by the Marquises and gentlemen. Turning, he calls.'] Come you, Valvert! Christian [w/io is watching and listening, starts on hearing this name']. The Viscount! Ah! I will throw full in his face my . . . [He puts his hand in his pocket, and finds there the hand of a pickpocket icho is about to rob him. Be turns round]. Hey? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 29 The Pickpocket. Oh! Christian [holding him tightly^. I was looking for a glove. The Pickpocket. [smiling piteously']. And you find a hand. [Changing his tone, quickly and in a whisper.] Let me but go, and I will deliver you a secret. Christian [still holding him]. What is it? The Pickpocket. Ligniere ... he who has just left you . . . Christian [same play]. Well? The Pickpocket. His life is in peril. A song writ by hira has given offense in high places — and a hundred men — I am of them — are posted to-night . . . Christian. A hundred men! By whom posted? The Pickpocket. I may not say — a secret . . . Christian [shrugging his shoulders']. Oh! 30 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Pickpocket. [with great dignity']. ... Of the profession. Christian. Where are they posted? The Pickpocket. At the Porte de Nesle. On his way home- ward. Warn him. Christian. [letting go his wrists]. But where can I find him? The Pickpocket. Run round to all the taverns — The Golden Wine Press, The Pine Cone, The Belt that Bursts, The Two Torches, The Three Funnels, and at each leave a Avord that shall put him on his guard. Christian. Good — I fly! Ah, the scoundrels! A hundred men 'gainst one! [Looking lovingly at Roi- ane]. Ah, to leave her! . . . [looking with rage at Valvert] and him! . . . But save Ligniere I must! [He hurries out. De GuichEj the Viscount, the Mar- quises, ham all disappeared behind the curtain - to take their jilaces on the benches placed on the stage. The pit is quite full; the galleries and boxes are also crowded.] CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 31 The Audience. Begin ! A Burgher [lohose toig is drawn up on the end of a string by a Page in the upper gallery]. My wig! Cries of Delight. He is bald! Bravo, pages— ha! ha! ha! . . . The Burgher [furious, shaking his fist]. Young villain! Laughter and Cries [heginning very loud, and dying gradually away]. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! [Total silence.] Le Bret [astonished]. What means this sudden silence? ... [A Spectator says something to him in a low voice.] Is'ttrue? The Spectator. I have just heard it on good authority. Murmurs [spreading through the hall]. Hush! Is it he? No! Ay, I say! In the box with the bars in front! The Cardinal! The Cardinal! The Cardinal! 32 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. A Page. The devil! We shall have to behave our- selves . . . [A knock is heard upon the stage. Every one is motionless. A pause.l^ The Voice of a Marquis [in the silence, behind the curtain^. Snuff that candle! Another Marquis [putting his head through the opening in the curtain]. A chair! [A chair is passed from hand to hand, over the heads of the spectators. The Marquis takes it and disappears, after Moiving some kisses to the boxes.] A Spectatob. Silence! [Three ktiocks are heard on the stage. The cur- tain opens in the centre Tableau. The Mar- quises ?n insolent attitudes seated on each side of the stage. The sce?ie represents a pastoral landscape. Four little lustres light the stage; the violins play softly. ] Le Bret [in a low voice to Ragueneau]. Montfleury comes on the scene? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 33 Ragueneau [also in a low voice]. Ay, 'tis he "who begins. Le Bret. Cyrano is not here. Eagueneau. I have lost mj' wager. Le Bret. 'Tis all the better! [An air on the drone-pipes is heard, and Mont- FLKUKT enters, enormously stout, in aji Ar- cadian shepherd's dress, a hat wreathed with roses drooping over one ear, hloiuing into a ribboned drone-pipe.] The Pit [applauding']. Bravo, Montfleury! Montfleury! Montfleury [after bowing low, begins the part of Phcedon]. "Heureux qui loin des cours, dans un lieu soli- taire, Se prescrit a soi-naene un exil volontaire, Et qui, lorsque Zephire a souffie surlesbois ..." A Voice [from the middle of the pit]. Villain! Did I not forbid you to shoAV your face here for a month ? [Oe7ieral stupor. Every one turns round. Murmurs.] 34 CYRANO DE BKRGERAC. Different Voices. Hey?— What?— What is't? . . . [The people stand up in the boxes to look.^^ CUIGY. 'Tis he! Le Bret. [terrified]. Cyrano ! The Voice. King of clowns! Leave the stage this instant! All the Audience [indignantly]. Oh! Montfleury. But . . . The Voice. Do you dare defy me ? Different Voices [from the pit and the boxes]. Peace! Enough! — ^Play on, Montfleury — fear nothing! Montfleury. [in a trembling voice], "Heureux qui loin des cours, dans unlieu sol — " The Voice [more fiercely]. Well! Chief of all the blackguards, must I come and give you a taste of my cane? [A hand holding a cane starts up over the heads of the spectators.] CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 35 MONTFLEURY \vi a voice that trembles more and more}. "Heureux qui ..." [The cane is shaken.] The Voice. Off the stage! The Pit. Oh I MoNTFLEURY [choking]. "Heureux qui loin des cours ..." Cyrano [appearing suddenly i?i the pit, standing on a chair, his arms crossed, his beaver cocked fiercely, his mustache bristling, his nose terri- ble to see]. Ah ! I shall be angry in a minute ! . . . [Sensation.] SCENE IV. The Same. Cyrano, then Bellerose, Jodelot. MONTFLEURT [to the Marquises]. Come to my help, my lords! A Marquis [carelessly]. Go on ! Go on I 36 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Fat man, take waruing! If 3'ou go on, I Shall feel myself constrained to cuff your face! The Marquis. Have done! Cyrano. And if these lords hold not their tongue Shall feel constrained to make them taste my cane! All the Marquises Enough! . . . Montfleury . . . Cyrano. If he goes not quick I v?ill cut off his ears and slit him up! A Voice. But . . . Cyrano. Out he goes! Another Voice. Yet . . . Cyrano. Is he not gone 3'et? [He makes the gesture of timiing vp Ms cuffs.] Good! I shall mount the stage now, buffet- wise. To carve this fine Italian sausage — thus! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 37 MONTFLEURY [trying to he dignified]. You outrage Thalia in insulting me ! Cyrano [very politelyl. If that Muse, Sir, who knows you not at all. Could claim acquaintance with you — oh, believe (Seeing how iirn-like, fat, and slow you are) That she would make you taste her buskin's sole! The Pit. Montfleury! Montfleury! Come — Baro'splayl Cyrano [to those 2vho are calling out]. I pray you have a care ! If you go on My scabbard soon will render up its blade! [The circle round him widens.] The Crowd [drawing back]. Take care ! Cyrano [to Montfleury]. Leave the stage! The Crowd [comi7ig near and griimhUng]. Oh!— Cyrano. Did some one speak? [They draw back again.] 38 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. A Voice [singing at the hacTc\. Monsieur de C3'rano Displays his tyrannies : A fig for tyrants! What, hoi Come I Play us " La Clorise ! ' ' All the Pit [singing']. "La Clorise!" "La Clorise!" . . . Cyrano. Let me but hear once more that foolish rhyme, I slaughter every man of you. A Bourgeois. Oh! Samson? Cyrano. Yes, Samson! Will you lend your jawbone. Sir? A Lady [in the boxes]. Outrageous! A Lord. Scandalous! A Bourgeois. 'Tis most annoying! A Page. Fair good sport! The Pit. Kss! — Montfleury . . . Cyrano! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 39 Cyrano. Silence! The Pit [wildly excited^. Ho-o-o-o-h! Quack! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cyrano. I order — Miowl A Page. Cyrano. I order silence, all! And challenge the whole pit collectively ! — I write your names! — Approach, young heroes, here! Each in his turn! I cry the numbers out! — Now which of you will come to ope the lists? You, Sir? No! You? No! The first duellist Shall be dispatched by me with honors due! Let all who long for death hold up their hands! [A silence]. Modest? You fear to see my naked blade? Not one name? — Not one hand?— Good, I pro- ceed! [Turning toivard the stage, where Montfleury ivaits in an agony.] The theater's too full, congested, — I Would clear it out. ... If not . . . [Puts his hand on his sioord]. The knife must act! 40 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. MONTFLEURY. I . . . Cyrano [leaves his chair, and settles himself in the middle of the circle luhich has formed]. I will clap my hands thrice, thus — full moon! At the third clap, eclipse yourself! The Pit [amused]. Cyrano [clapping his hands]. MoNTFLEURY. I . . . A Voice [in the boxes]. Stay! The Pit. He stays ... he goes ... he stays MONTFLEURY. I think Cyrano. Two! MoNTFLEURY. I think 'twere wisest Ah! One! Gentlemen, I CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 41 Cyrano. Three! [MoNTFLEURT disappears as through a trap. Tempest of laughs, whistling cries, etc.^ The Whole House. Coward . . . come back! Cyrano [delighted, sits back in his chair, arms crossed^. Come back an if you dare! A Bourgeois. Call for the orator! [Bellerose comes forward and boivs.l The Boxes. Ah! here's Bellerose! Bellerose \elegantly'\. My noble lords . . . The Pit. No! no! Jodeletl Jodelet. \ advancing, speaking through his nosel. Calves ! The Pit. Ah! bravo! good! goon! Jodelet. No bravos, Sirs! The fat tragedian whom you all love Felt . . . 42 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Pit. Coward ! JODELET. . . . was obliged to go. The Pit. Come baokl No I Some. Others. Yes! A Young Man [to Cyrano]. But pray, Sir, for what reason, say, Hate you Montfleury ? Cyrano [graciously, still seated]. Youthful gander, know I have two reasons — either will suffice. Primo. An actor villainous! who mouths, And heaves up like a bucket from a well The verses that should, bird-like, fly 1 Secundo — That is my secret . . . The Old Bourgeois [behind Jtitn]. Shameful ! You deprive us Of the "Clorise!" I must insist . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 43 Cyrano [turning his chair toioard the Bourgeois, respect- Old mule! The verses of old Baro are not worth A doit! I'm glad to interrupt . . . The Precieuses [m the boxes]. Our Baro ! — My dear! How dares he venture! . . . Cyrano [turning his chair toioard the boxes galla^iily]. Fairest ones, Kadiate, bloom, hold to our lips the cup Of dreams intoxicating, Hebe-like! Or, when death strikes, charm death with your sweet smiles; Inspire our verse, but — criticise it not! Bellerose. We must give back the entrance fees! Cyrano [turning his chair toward the stage]. Bellerose, You make the first intelligent remark! "Would I rend Thespis' sacred mantle? Nay! [He rises and throws a bag on the stage.] Catch then the purse I throw, and hold your peace! 44 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The House [dazzled]. Ah! Oh! JODELET [catching the purse dexterously and weighing it]. At this price, you've authority To come each night, and stop "Clorise, " Sir! The Pit. Ho! . . . Ho! ho! . . . JODELET. E'en if j'ou chase us in a pack! . . . Bellerose. Clear out the hall 1 . . . JODELET. Get you all gone at once! [The people begin to go out, while Cybano looks on with satisfaction. But the crowd soon stop on hearing the following scene, and remain where they are. The women, who, ivith their mantles on, are already standing iip in the boxes, stop to listen, and finally reseat themselves.] Le Bret [to Cyrano]. 'Tismad! . . . A Bore [coming up to Cyrano]. The actor Montfleury! 'Tis shameful! Why, he's protected by the Duke of Candal! Have you a patron? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 45 Cyrano. No! The Bore . No patron? . . . Cyrano. None! The Bore. What! no great lord to shield you with his name? Cyrano [irritated]. No, I have told you twice! Must I repeat? No! no protector . . . [His hand on his sword.] A protectress . . . here! The Bore. But you must leave the town? Cyrano. Well, that depends! The Bore. The Duke has a long arm! Cyrano. But not so long As mine, when it is lengthened out . . . [Shows his swoi'd.] As thus! The Bore. You think not to contend? Cyrano. 'Tis my idea! 46 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Bore. But . . . Cybano. Show your heels, now! The Bore. But I . . . Cyrano. Show your heels! Or tell me why you stare so at my nose! The Bore. [staggered]. I . . . Cyrano [walking straight up to him]. Well, what is there strange? The Bore [drawing hack]. Your Grace mistakes! Cyrano. How now? Is't soft and dangling, like a trunk? . . . The Bore [same play], I never ... Cyrano. Is it crook'd, like an owl's beak? The Bore. A • • B CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 47 Cyrano. Do you see a wart upon the tip? The Bore. Nay . . . Cyrano. Or a fly, that takes the air there? What Is there to stare at? The Bore. Oh . . . Cyrano. What do you see ? The Bore. But I was careful not to look — knew better. Cyrano. And why not look at it, an if you please? The Bore. I was . . . Cyrano. Oh! it disgusts you! The Bore. Sir! Cyrano. Its hue Unwholesome seems to you? The Bore. Sir! Cyrano. Or its shape? 48 CYRANO DE BERGERAC The Bore No, on the contrary ! . . . Cyrano. Why then that air Disparaging? — perchance you think it large? The Bore [stammeringl. No; small, quite small — minute! Cyrano. Minute! "What now? Accuse me of a thing ridiculous! Small — my nose? The Bore. Heaven help me! Cyrano. 'Tis enormous! Old Flathead, empty-headed meddler, know That I am proud possessing such appendice. 'Tis well known, a big nose is indicative Of a soul affable, and kind, and courteous. Liberal, brave, just like myself, and such As you can never dare to dream yourself, Eascal contemptible ! For that witless face That my hand soon will come to cuff — is all As empty . . . [He cuffs him. ] The Bore. Aie! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 49 Cyrano — of pride, of aspiration, Of feeling, poetry — of godlike spark Of all that appertains to my big nose, [He turns him by the shoulders, suiting the action to the wo7'd.~\ As . . . what my boot will shortly come and kick! The Bore [running awayl. Help! Call the Guard! Cyrano. Take notice, boobies all. Who find my visage's center ornament A thing to jest at — that it is my wont — An if the jester's noble — ere we part To let him taste my steel, and not my boot! De Guiche [who, with the Marquises, has come doivn from the stage]. But he becomes a nuisance! The Viscount de Valvert [shrugging his shoulders']. Swaggerer! De Guiche. "Will no one put him down? . . . 50 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Viscount. No one? But wait! I'll treat bira to . . . oneof my quips! . . . See here! . . . [He goes up to Cyrano, ivho is watching him, and with a conceited air.] Sir, your nose is . . . hm . . . it is . . . very big! Cyrano [gravely]. Very! The Viscount [laughing]. Ha! Cyrano [imperturbaljhj]. Is that all? . . . The Viscount. What do you mean ? Cyrano. Ah no! young blade! That was a trifle short! You might have said at least a hundred things B.y varying the tone . . . like this, suppose, . . . Aggressive: "Sir, if I had such a nose I'd amputate it!" Friendly: "When you sup It must annoy you, dipping in your cup; You need a drinking-bowl of special shape!" Descriptive: " 'Tisarock! . . . apeak! ... a cape! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 51 — A cape, forsooth! 'Tie a peninsular!" Curious: "How serves that oblong capsular? For scissor-sheath? or pot to hold your ink?" Gracious: "You love the little birds, I think? I see you've managed with a fond research To find their tiny claws a roomy perch!" Truculent: "When you smoke your pipe . . . suppose That the tobacco-smoke spouts from your nose — Do not the neighbors, as the fumes rise higher. Cry terror-struck: 'The chimney is afire'?" Considerate: "Take care, . . . your head bowed low By such a weight . . . lest head o'er heels you go! Tender: "Pray get a small umbrella made, Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!" Pedantic: "That beast Aristophanes Names Hippocamelelephantoles Must have possessed just such a solid lump Of flesh and bone, beneath his forehead's bump!" Cavalier: "The last fashion, friend, that hook? To hang your hat on? 'Tis a useful crook!" Emphatic: "No wind, O majestic nose. Can give thee cold! — save when the mistral blows!" Dramatic: "When it bleeds, what a Eed Sea!" Admiring: "Sign for a perfumery!" 53 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Lyric: "Is this a conch? . . . a Triton you?" Simple: "When is the monument on view?" Eustic: "That thing a nose? Marry-come-up! 'Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!" Military: "Point against cavalry!" Practical: "Put it in a lottery! Assuredly 'twould be the biggest prize!" Or . . . parodying Pyramus' sighs . . . "Behold the nose that mars the harmony Of its master's phiz! blushing its treachery!" — Such, my dear Bir, is what you might have said. Had you of wit or letters the least jot : But, most lamentable man! — of wit You never had an atom, and of letters You have three letters only! — the.v spell Ass! And — had you had the necessary wit. To serve me all the pleasantries I quote Befor-e this noble audience . . . e'en so. You would not have been let to utter one — Nay, not the half or quarter of such jest! I take them from myself all in good part. But not from any other man that breathes I De Guiche [trxjing to draw aicay the dismayed Viscount] Come away, Viscount! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 53 The Viscount [choking with rage]. Hear his arrogance! A country lout who . . . who . . . has got no gloves ! "Who goes out without sleeve-knots, ribbons, lace! Cyrano. True; all ray elegances are within. I do not prank myself out, puppy -like; My toilet is more thorough, if less gay; I would not sally forth — a half-washed-out Affront upon my cheek — a conscience Yellow-eyed, bilious, from its sodden sleep, A ruffled honor, . . . scruples grimed and dull ! I show no bravery of shining gems. Truth, Independence, are my fluttering plumes. 'Tis not my form I lace to make me slim, But brace my soul with efforts as with stays. Covered with exploits, not -with ribbon-knots. My spirit bristling high like your mustaches, I, traversing the crowds and chattering groups Make Truth ring bravely out like clash of spurs! The Viscount. But, Sir . . . Cyrano. I wear no gloves? and what of that? I had one, . . . remnant of an old worn pair. And, knowing not what else to do with it, I threw it in the face of . . . some young fool. 54 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Viscount. Base scoundrel! Eascally flat-footed lout! Cyrano [taking off his hat, and bowing as if the Viscount had introduced himself] Ah? . . . and I, Cyrano Savinien Hercule de Bergerac [Laughter.] The Viscount [angrily]. BuJBfoon\ Cyrano [calling out as if he had been seized with the cramj)]. Aie! aie! The Viscount [_who was going away, turns back]. What on earth is the fellow saying now? Cyrano [ivith grimaces of pain]. It must be moved — it's getting stiff, I vow, — This comes of leaving it in idleness! Aie! . . . The Viscount. What ails you? Cyrano. The cramp! cramp in my swordi The Viscount [drawing his sivord]. Good! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 55 Cyrano. You shall feel a charming little stroke! The Viscount Icontempt uo usbj]. Poet! . . . Cyrano. Ay, poet, Sir! In proof of which, While we fence, presto! all extempore I will compose a ballade. The Viscount. A ballade? Cyrano. Belike you know not what a ballade is. The Viscount. But . . . Cyrano [reciting, as if repeating a lessori]. Know then that the ballade should contain Three eight-versed couplets . . . The Viscount [atamjnng]. Oh* Cyrano. [still reciting]. And an envoi Of four lines . . The Viscount. You . . . 66 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. I'll make one while we fight. And touch you at the final line. The Viscount No! Cyrano. No? [declaiming']. The duel in Hotel of Burgundy — fought By De Bergerac and a good-for-naught! The Viscount. What may that be, an if you please? Cyrano. The title. The House [in great excitement]. Give room! — Good sport! — Make place! — Fair play! — No noise! [Tableau. A circle of curious sfpectatoi's in the pit; the Marquises and Officers mingled loith the common people; the Pages climbing on each other's shoulders to see better. All the women standing up in the boxes. To the right, De Guiche and his retinue. Left, Le Bret, Ragueneau, Cyrano, etc.] Cyrano [shidting his eyes for a second"]. Wait while I choose my rhymes. ... I have them now! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 57 [He suits the action to each word. ] I gayly doff my beaver low. And, freeing band and heel. My heavy mantle off I throw. And I draw my polished steel ; Graceful as Phoebus, round I wheel. Alert as Scaramouch, A word in your ear, Sir Spark, I steal — At the envoi's end, I touch! [Tliey engage.^ Better for you had you lain low ; Where skewer my cockV In the heel? — ■ In the heart, your ribbon blue below ? — In the hip, and make you kneel? Ho for the music of clashing steel! —What now?— A hit? Not much! 'Twill be in the paunch the stroke I steal. When, at the envoi, I touch. Oh, for a rhyme, a rhj'me in o? — You wriggle, starch-white, my eel? A rhyme ! a rhyme ! the white feather you show! Tac! I parry the point of your steel; — The point you hoped to make me feel; I open the line, now clutch Your spit, Sir Scullion — show your zeal ! At the envoi's end, I touch. [He declaims solemnly. ] 68 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Envoi. Prince, pray Heaven for your soul's weal! I move a pace — lo, such ! and such ! Cut over — feint! lTh7'usti7}g.'] What ho! You reel? [ The Viscount staggers. Cyrano salutes. ] At the envoi's end, I touch ! [Acclamations. Applause in the boxes. Flowers and handkerchiefs are thrown doum. The Officers surround Cyrano, congratulating him. Ragueneau dances for jo\j. Le Bret is happy, hut anxious. T/ie Viscount's friends hold him up and bear him away. ] The Crowd [with one long shout]. Ah! A Trooper. 'Tis superb! A Woman. A pretty stroke! Ragueneau. A marvel! A novelty! A Marquis. Le Bret. O madman! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 59 [ The crowd presses round Cyrano. Chorus of] Compliments' Bravo! Let me congratulate! . . . Quite un- surpassed! . . . A Woman's Voice. There is a hero for you ! . . . A Musketeer [advancing to Cyrano with outstretched hand]. Sir, permit; Naught could be finer — I'm a judge I think ; I stamped, i' faith! — to show my admiration! [He goes away.] Cyrano [to Cuigy]. Who is that gentleman? Cuigy. Why — D'Artagnan ! Le Bret [to Cyrano, taking his arm]. A word with you! . . . Cyrano. Wait; let the rabble go! . . . [To Belleeose.] May I stay ? Bellerose [respectfully]. Without doubt! [Cries are heard outside.] 60 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. JODELET [who has looked outi They hoot Montfleury! Bellerose [solemnly]. Sic transit! . . . [To the Porters.] Sweep — close all, but leave the lights. We sup, but later on we must return, For a rehearsal of to-morrow's farce. [JoDELET and Bellerose go out, bowing low to Cyrano. ] The Porter [to CrEANo]. You do not dine, Sir? Cyrano. No. [ The Porter goes out. ] Le Bret. Because? Cyrano [jp7'oudly]. Because . . . [Changing his tone as the Porter goes away.'] I have no money! . . . Le Bret [with the action of throwing a hag]. How! The bag of crowns? . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 61 Cyrano. Paternal bounty, in a dav, thou'rt sped! Le Bret. How live the next month? . . . Cyrano. I have nothing left. Le Bret. Folly! Cyrano. But -what a graceful action! Think! The Buffet-Girl [coughing, behind her counter]. Hum! [Cyrano and Le Bret turn. She comes timidly forward. ] Sir, my heart mislikes to know you fast. [Showing the buffet.] See, all you need. Serve yourself! Cyrano [taking off his hat]. Gentle child. Although my Gascon pride would else forbid To take the least bestowal from your hands. My fear of wounding you outweighs that pride, And bids accept . . . [He goes to the buffet. ] A trifle ! . . . These few grapes. 68 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. [SJie qfers him the tvhole bunch. He takes a few.] Nay, but this bunch! . . . [6'/ie tries to give him wine, but he stops her.'] A glass of water fair! . . . And half a macaroon ! [He gives back the other half.] Le Bret. What foolery! The Buffet-Girl. Take something else! Cyrano. I take .your hand to kiss. [He kisses her hand as though she were a princess.] The Buffet-Girl. Thank you, kind Sir! [She courtesies.] Good-night. [She goes out.] SCENE V. Cyrano, Le Bret. Cyrano [to Le Bret]. Now talk — I listen. [He stands at the buffet, and placing before him first the macaroon,] Dinner! . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 63 [then the grajjes,] Dessert! . . . [then the glass of water,] Wine! . . . [he seats himself.] So ! And now to table ! Ah! I v?as hungry, friend, nay, ravenous! [Eating.] You said — ? Le Bret. These fops, -would-be belligerent. Will, if you heed them only, turn your head! . . . Ask people of good sense if you would know The effect of your fine insolence Cyrano [finishing his macaroon]. Enormous ! Le Bret. The Cardinal . . . Cyrano [radiant]. The Cardinal — was there? Le Bret. Must have thought it . . . Cyrano. Original, i' faith! Le Bret. But . . . 64 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. He's an author, 'Twill not fail to please bim That I should mar a brother-author's play. Le Bret. You make too manj' enemies by far! Ctrano. [eating his grapes']. How many think you I have made to-night? Le Bret. Forty, no less, not counting ladies. Cyrano. Count! Le Bret. Montfleury first, the bourgeois, then De Guiche, The Viscount, Baro, the Academy . . . Cyrano. Enough! I am o'erjoyed! Le Bret. But these strange "ways, Where will they lead you, at the end? Explain Your system — come ! Cyrano. I in a labyrinth "Was lost — too many different paths to choose; I took . . . Le Bret, Which? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 65 Cyrano. Oh! by far the simplest path . . . Decided to be admirable in all! Le Bret. [shrugging his shoulders]. So be it! But the motive of your hate To Montfleury — come, tell me! Cyrano [rising]. This Silenus, Big-bellied, coarse, still deems himself a peril— A danger to the love of lovely ladies. And, while he sputters out his actor's part. Makes sheep's eyes at their boxes — goggling frog ! I hate him since the evening he presumed To raise his eyes to hers . . . Meseemed I saw A slug crawl slavering o'er a flower's petals! Le Bret [stupefied]. How now? "What? Can it be . . . ? Cyrano [laughing bitterly]. That I should love? . . . [Changing his tone, gravely.] I love. Le Bret. And may I know ? . . . You never said . . . C6 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Come now, bethink you! . . . The fond hope to be Beloved, e'en by some poor graceless lady, Is, by this nose of mine for aye bereft me; — This lengthy nose which, go where'er I will. Pokes yet a quarter-mile ahead of me; But I may love — and who? 'Tis Fate's decree I love the fairest — how were't otherwise? Le Bret. The fairest? Cyrano. Ay, the fairest of the world. Most brilliant — most refined — most golden- haired! Le Bret. Who is this lady ? Cyrano. She's a danger mortal, All unsuspicious — full of charms unconscious. Like a sweet perfumed rose — a snare of nature, "Within whose petals Cupid lurks in ambush! He who has seen her smile has known perfection, — Instilling into trifles grace's essence. Divinity in every careless gesture; Not Venus' self can mount her conch blown sea- ward, CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 67 As she can step into her chaise a jwjieurs, Nor Dian fleet across the woods spring-flowered, Light as my Lady o'er the stones of Paris! . . . Le Bret. Sapristi! all is clear! Cyrano. As spiderwebs! Le Bret. Your cousin, Madeleine Eobin? Cyrano. Boxane! Le Bret. "Well, but so much the better! Tell her so! She saw your triumph here this very night! Cyrano. Look well at me — then tell me, with what hope This vile protuberance can inspire my heart! I do not lull me with illusions — yet At times I'm weak : in evening hours dim I enter some fair pleasance, perfumed sweet j "With my poor ugly devil of a nose I scent spring's essence — in the silver rays I see some knight — a lady on his arm, And think, "To saunter thus 'neath the moon- shine, I were fain to have my lady, too, beside!" Thought soars to ecstasy . . . O sudden fall! — The shadow of my profile on the wall ! 68 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Le Bret [tenderly]. My friend! . . . Cyrano, My friend, at times 'tis hard, 'tis bitter. To feel my loneliness — my own ill-favor . . . Le Bret [taking his hand], Tou weep? Cyrano. No, never! Think, how vilely suited Adown this nose a tear its passage tracing! I never wil], while of myself I'm master. Let the divinity of tears — their beauty Be wedded to such common ugly grossness! Nothing more solemn than a tear — sublimer; And I would not by weeping turn to laughter The grave emotion that a tear engenders! Le Bret. Never be sad! "What's love? — a ohanoe of Fortune ! Cyrano [shaking his head]. Look I a Cfesar to woo Cleopatra? A Tito to aspire to Berenice? Le Bret. Your courage and your wit! — The little maid CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 69 "Who offered you refreshment even now, Her eyes did not abhor you — you saw welll Cyrano [impressed^. True! Le Bret. Well, how then? ... I saw Roxane herself Was death-pale as she watched the duel. Cyrano, Pale? Le Bret. Her heart, her fancy, are already caught! Put it to th' touch! Cyrano That she may mock my face? That is the one thing on this earth I fear! The Porter [introducing some one to Cyrano]. Sir, some one asks for you . . . Cyrano [seeing the Duenna]. God! her duenna! SCENE VI. Cyrano, Le Bret, the Duenna. The Duenna [with a low bow]. I was bid ask you where a certain lady Could see her valiant cousin — but in secret. 70 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano [overwhelmed^. See me? The Duenna [courtesywg'j. Ay, Sir! She has somewhat to tell. Cyrano. Somewhat? . . . The Duenna [still courtesying']. Ay, private matters! Cyrano [staggei'ing]. Ah, my God! The Duenna. To-morrow, at the early blush of dawn, We go to hear mass at St. Eoch. Cyrano [leaning against Le Bret]. My God! The Duenna. After — what place for a few minutes' speech? Cyrano [confused]. "Where? Ah! . . . but . . . Ah, my God! . . The Duenna, Say! Cyrano. I reflect! . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 71 The Duenna. Where? Cyrano. At — the pastry-house of Eagueneau. The Duenna. "Where lodges he? Cyrano. The Rue— God!— St. Honore! The Duenna [going]. Good. Be you there. At seven. Cyrano. Without fail. [The Duenna goes out.'] SCENE VII. Cyrano, Le Bret. Then Actors, Actresses, Cuigy, Brissaille, Ligniere, the Porter, the Violinists. Cyrano [falling into Le Bret's arms], A rendezvous . . . from her! . . . Le Bret. You're sad no more! Cyrano. Ah! let the world go burn! She knows I live! Le Bret. Now you'll be calm, I hope? 73 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano [beside himself for Joy]. Calm? I now calm? I'll be frenetic, frantic, — raving mad! Oh, for an army to attack! — a host! I've ten hearts in my breast; a score of arms; No dwarfs to cleave in twain! . . . [Wildly.] No! Giants now! [For a few moments the shadows of the Actors have been moving on the stage, ivhispers are heard — the rehearsal is beginning. The Violinists are in their places.] A Voice from the Stage. Hollo there! Silence! We rehearse! Cyrano [laughing]. We go! [He moves away. By the big door enter Cuigy, Brissaille, and some Officers, holding up LiGNiERE, who is drunk. ] CUIGT. Cyrano! Cyrano. Well, what now? Ouioy. A lusty thrush They're bringing you! CYRANO DE B£RGERAC. t3 Cyrano [recognizing hint]. Ligniere! . , . What has chanced? CUIGY. He seeks you ! Brissaille. He dare not go home! Cyrano. Why not? Ligniere [in a husky voice, showing him a crumpled letter']. This letter warns me . . . that a hundred men . . . Eeveuge that threatens me . . . that song, you know At the Porte de Nesle. To get to my own house I must pass there. . . . I dare not! . . . Give me leave To sleep to-night beneath your roof! Allow . . . Cyrano. A hundred men? You'll sleep in your own bed! Ligniere [frightened]. But Cyrano [in a terrible voice, showing him the lighted lantern held by the Porter, tvho is listening curiously]. Take the lantern. 74 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. [LioNiERE seizes it.] Let us start! I swear That I "will make your bed to-night myself! [ To the Officers. ] Follow; some stay behind, as witnesses! COIGY. A hundred! . . . Cyrano. Less, to-night — would be too few! [TJie Actors and Actresses, in their costumes, have come doxonfrom the stage, and are listening.] Le Bret. But why embroil yourself? Cyrano. Le Bret who scolds! Le Bret. That worthless drunkard ! Cyrano [slapping Ligniere on the shoulder]. "Wherefore? For this cause; — This wine-barrel, this cask of Burgundy, Did, on a da^', an action full of grace ; As he was leaving church, he saw his love Take holy water — he, who is affeared At water's taste, ran quickly to the stoup, And drank it all, to the last drop! . . . An Actress. Indeed, That was a graceful thing! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Kb Cyrano. Ay, was it not? The Actress [to the others']. But why a hundred men 'gainst one poor rhymer ? Cyrano. March ! [to the Officers. ] Gentlemen, when you shall see me charge. Bear me no succor, none, whate'er the odds! Another Actress [jumping down from the stage]. Oh ! I shall come and see ! Cyrano. Come, then! Another [jumping down — to an old Actor]. And you ? . . . Cyrano. Come all — the Doctor, Isabel, Leander, Come, for you shall add, in a motley swarm, The farce Italian to this Spanish drama! All the Women [dancing for joy]. Bravo! — a mantle, quick! — my hood! JODELET. Come on! Cyrano. Play us a march, gentlemen of the band! 76 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. [ The Violinists join the procession, which is form- ing. They take the footlights, and divide them for torches.] Brave officers! next, women in costume. And, twenty paces on [He takes his place.] I, all alone, Beneath the plume that Gloiy lends, herself, To deck my beaver — proud as Scipio! . . . — You hear me? — I forbid you succor me! — One, two, three! Portei', open wide the doors! [The PoRTEB opens the doors; a vieto of old Paris in the moonlight is seen.] Ah! . . . Paris wrapped in night! half nebulous: The moonlight streams o'er the blue-shadowed roofs ; A lovely frame for this wild battle-scene; Beneath the vapor's floating scarves, the Seine Trembles, mysterious, like a magic mirror, And, shortly, you shall see what you shall see! All. To the Porte de Nesle ! Cyrano [standing on the threshold]. Ay, to the Porte de Nesle! [Turning to the Actress.] Did you not ask, young lady, for what cause Against this rhymer fivescore men were sent? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 77 [He draics his sword; then, calmly] 'Twas that they knew him for a friend of mine! [He goes out. Ligniere staggers first after him, then the Actresses on the Officers' arms — the Actors. The procession starts to the sound of the violins and in the faint light of the candles.'^ Curtain. tS CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ACT II. The Poet's Eating-House. Bagueneau's cook aud pastry-shop. A large kitchen at the corner of the Kue St. Honore and the Eue de I'Arbre Sec, which are seen in the background through the glass door, in the gray dawn. On the left, in the foreground, a counter, sur- mounted by a stand in forged iron, on which are hung geese, ducks, and white peacocks. In great china vases are tall bouquets of simple flowers, principally yellow sunflowers. On the same side, farther back, an immense open fireplace, in front of which, between monster firedogs, on each of which hangs a little saucepan; the roasts are dripping into the pans. On the right, foreground with door. Farther back, staircase leading to a little room under the roof, the entrance of which is visible through the open shutter. In this room a table is laid. A small Flemish lus- ter is alight. It is a place for eating and CYRANO DE BERGERAC. T9 drinking. A wooden gallery-, continuing the staircase, apparently leads to other simi- lar little rooms. In the middle of the shop an iron hoop is sus- pended from the ceiling by a string with which it can be drawn up and down, and big game is hung around it. The ovens in the dari. ness under the stairs give forth a red glow. The copper pans shine. The spits are turning. Heaps of food formed into pyramids. Hams suspended. It is the busy hour of the morning. Bustle and hurry of scullions, fat cooks, and dimin- utive apprentices, their caps profusely decorated with cock's feathers and wings of guinea-fowl. On metal and wicker plates they are bringing in piles of cakes and tarts. Tables laden with rolls and dishes of food. Other tables surrounded with chairs are ready for the consumers. A small table in a corner covered with papers, at which Eagueneau is seated writing on the rising of the curtain. 80 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. SCENE I. Eagueneau, Pastry-Cooks, then Lise. Eagueneau is writing, with an inspired air, at a small table, and counting on his fingers. First Pastry-Cook [bringing in an elaborate fancy dish]. Fruits in nougat! Second Pastky-Cook [bringing another dish]. Custard ! Third Pastry-Cook [bringing a roast, decorated with feathers']. Peacock ! Fourth Pastry-Cook [bringing a batch of cakes on a slab]. Eissoles! Fifth Pastry-Cook [bringing a sort of pie-dish]. Beef jelly! Ragueneau [ceasing to write, and rasing his hrad]. Aurora's silver rays begin to gliut e'eu now on the copper pans, and tliou, O Eagueneau! must perforce stifle in thy breast the God of Song! Anon shall come the hour of the lute! — now 'tis the hour of the oven! [He rises. To a Cook.] You, make that sauce longer, 'tis too short! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 81 The Cook. How much too short? Ragueneau. Three feet. [He passes on farther]. The Cook. What means he? First Pastry-Cook [shoioing a dish to Eagueneau]. The tart! Second Pastry-Cook. The pie! Ragueneau [before the fir e]. My Muse, retire, lest thy bright eyes be red- dened by the fagot's blaze! [To a Cook, shoioing him some loaves.] You have put the cleft o' th' loaves in the wrong place; know you not that the caesura should be between the hemistiches? [To another, shomng him an unfinished j^asty.] To this palace of paste you must add the roof. . . . [To a young Apprentice, who, seated on the ground, is spitting the fowls.] And you, as you put on your lengthy spit the modest fowl and the superb turkey, my son, alternate them, as the old Mal- herbe loved well to alternate his long lines of verse with the short ones; thus shall your roasts, in strophes, turn before the flame! 83 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Another Apprentice [also coming up with a tray covered by a napkhi]. Master, I bethought rue erewhile of your tastes, and made this, which will please you, I hope. \^He uncovers the tray, and shows a large lyre made of pastry.] Ragueneau [enchanted]. A lyre ! The Apprentice. 'Tis of brioche pastry. Ragueneau [touched]. With conserved fruits. The Apprentice. The strings, see, are of sugar. Ragueneau [giving him a coin]. Go, drink my health! [Seeing Lise enter.] Hush! my wife. Bustle, pass on, and bide that money! [To Lise, showing her the lyre, with a conscious look.] Is it not beautiful? Lise. 'Tis passing silly! [She puts a pile of paper's on the counter.] Ragueneau. Bags? Good. I thank you. [He looks at them.] Heavens! my cherished leaves! The CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 83 poems of my friends! Torn, dismembered, to make bags for holding biscuits and cakes! . . . Ab, 'tis the old tale again . . . Orpheus and the Bacchantes! LiSE [dryly]. And am I not free to turn at last to some use the sole thing that your wretched scribblers of halting lines leave behind them by way of pay- ment? Ragueneau. Groveling ant! . . . Insult not the divine grasshoppers, the sweet singers! LiSE. Before you were the sworn comrade of all that crew, my friend, you did not call your wife ant and Bacchante! Ragueneau. To turn fair verse to such a use! LiSE. 'Faith, 'tis all it's good for. Ragueneau. Pray then, madam, to what use would you degrade prose? 84 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. SCENE II. The Same, Two Children, xoho have just trotted into the shop. Ragueneatt. What would you, little ones? First Child. Three pies. Ragueneau [serving them]. See, hot and well browned. Second Child. If it please you. Sir, will you wrap them up for ur>? Ragueneau [aside, distressed]. Alas! one of my bags! [To the Children.] "VVh«t? must I wrap them up? [He takes a bag, and just as he is about to put in the pies, he 7'eads'\ ** Ulysses thus, on leaving fair Penelope . . . " Not that one! [.f^s puts it aside, and takes another, and as he i& about to put in the pies, he reads] ''The gold-locked Phoebus ..." Nay, nor that one ! . . . [Same play.] LiSE [i^npatiently]. What are you dallying for? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 85 Ragueneau. Here! here! here [He chooses a third, resign- edly.] The sonnet to PhiJlis! . . . but 'tis hard to part with it! LiSE. By good luck he has made up his mind at last! [Shrugging her shoidders.] Nicodemus! [She mounts on a chair, and begins to range plates on a dr'esser.l Ragueneau [taking advantage of the moment she tui'ns her back, calls back the Childben, who are already at the door]. Hist! children! . . . Eender me back the sonnet to Phillis, and you shall have six pies instead of three. [2%e Children give him back the bag, seize the cakes quickly, and go out. Ragueneau, smoothing out the paper, begins to declaim. ] "Phillis! . . ." On that sweet name a smear of butter! "Phillis! ..." [CrRANO enters hurriedly.] SCENE III. Ragueneau, Lise, Cyrano, then the Musketeer. Cyrano. What's o'clock? 86 CYRANO t)E BERGERAC. Ragueneau [bowing low]. Six o'clock. Cyrano [with emotiojil. In one hour's time! [He paces up and down the shop."] Ragueneau [following him']. Bravo ! I saw . . . Cyrano, Well, what saw you, then? Ragueneau. Your combat! . . . Cyrano. Which? Ragueneau. That in the Burgundy Hotel, 'faith! Cyrano [confemjytuously]. Ah! . . . the duel! Ragueneau [admij'ingly'}. Ay! the duel in verse! . . . LiSE. He can talk of naught else ! Cyrano. Well! Good! let be! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 87 Ragueneau [making passes with a sjnt that he catches tcp]. "At the envoi's end, I touch! ... At the «MWi's end, I touch!" . . . 'Tis fine, fine! [With increasing enthusiasm.] "At the envoi's end " Cyrano. What hour is it now, Ragueneau? Ragueneau [stopping short in the act of thrusting to look at the clock]. Five minutes after six! . . . "I touch!" [He sti'aightens himself.] . . . Oh! to write a ballade! LiSE [to Cyrano, ivho, as he passes by the counter, has absently shaken hands with her]. "What's wrong with your hand? Cyrano. Naught; a slight cut. Ragueneau. Have you been in some danger? Cyrano. None in the world. LiSE [shaking her finger at him]. Methinks you speak not the truth in saying that! 88 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Did you see my nose quiver when I spoke? 'Faith, it must have been a monstrous lie that should move it! [Changing his tone.l I wait some one here. Leave us alone, and disturb us for naught an it were not for crack of doom! Ragueneau. But 'tis impossible; my poets are coming . . . LiSE [ironically]. Oh, ay, for their first meal o' the day! Cyrano. Prythee, take them aside when I shall make you sign to do so . . . What's o'clock? Ragueneau. Ten minutes after six. Cyrano [nervously seating himself at Ragueneau 's table, and draioing some paper toward hivri]. A pen! . . . Ragueneau [giving him the one from behind his ear]. Here — a swan's quill. A Musketeer [with fierce mustache, enters, and in a stentorian voice]. Good-da.v ! [LisE goes up to him quickly.] CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 89 Cyrano [turning round]. Who's that? Eagueneau. 'Tis a friend of my wife — a terrible warrior — at least so says he himself. Cyrano [taking up the pen, and motioning Eagueneau away']. Hush! [To himself.] I will write, fold it, give it her, and fly! [Throion down the ^jen.] Coward! . . . But strike me dead if I dare to speak to her, . . . ay, even one single word! [To Eagueneau.] "What time is it? Ragueneau. A quarter after six! . . . Cyrano [striking his breast]. Ay — a single word of all those here! here! But writing, 'tis easier done. . . . [He takes up the peii.] Go to, I will write it, that love-letter! Oh! I have writ it and rewrit it in my own mind so oft that it lies there ready for pen and ink; and if I lay but my soul by my letter-sheet, 'tis naught to do but to copy from it. [He writes. Through the glass of the door the sdlhou- ettes of their figures move uncertainly and hesitatingly. ] 90 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. SCENE IV. Kagubneau, Lise, the Musketeer. Cyrano at the little table writing. TJie Poets, dressed in black, their stockings ungartered, and covered icith mud. Lise [entering, to Kagueneau]. Here they come, your mud-beBpattered friends! First Poet [entering, to EagueneauJ. Brother in art! . . . Second Poet [to Eagueneau, shaking his hands]. Dear brother! Third Poit. High soaring eagle among pastry-cooks! [He sniff's.] Marry! it smells good here in your eyrie! Fourth Poet. 'Tis at Phoebus' own rays that thy roasts turn! Fifth Poet. Apollo among master-cooks Ragueneau [iohom they surround and embrace]. Ah! how quick a man feels at his ease with them! ... First Poet. We wei'e stayed by the mob; they are crowded all round the Porte de Nesle! . ; . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 91 Second Poet. Eight bleeding brigand carcasses strew the pavements there — all slit open with sword- gashes! Cyrano [raising his head a minute']. Eight? . . . hold, methought seven. [He goes on writing.] Ragueneau [to Cyrano]. Know you who might be the hero of the fray ? Cyrano [carelessly]. Not I. LiSE [to the Musketeer]. And you? know you? The Musketeer [twirling his mustache]. Maybe ! Cyrano [ivriting a little tvay off.-' — lie is heard murmuring a word from time to time]. "Hove thee!" First Poet. 'Twas one man, say the3' all, ay, swear to it, one man who, single-handed, put the whole band to the rout! 92 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Second Poet. 'Twas a strange sight! — pikes and cudgels strewed thick upon the ground. Cyrano [itriting']. . . . "Thine eyes" . . . Third Poet. And they were picking up hats all the way to the Quai d'Orfevres! First Poet. Sapristi! but he must have been a ferocious . . . Cyrano [same play~\. . . . "Thy lips" . . . First Poet. 'Twas a parlous fearsome giant that was the author of such exploits! Cyrano [same play]. . . . "And when I see thee come, I faint for fear." Second Poet. [filching a cake]. What hast rhymed of late, Ragueneau? Cyrano [savie play]. . . . "Who worships thee" . . . [He stops, just as he is about to sign, and gets up, slipping the letter into his doublet.] No need I sign, since I give it her myself. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 93 Eagueneau [to Second Poet]. I have put a recipe into verse. Third Poet [seating himself by a plate of cream-puffs'}. Go to! Let us hear these verses! Fourth Poet [looking at a cake which he has taken]. Its cap is all a' one side! [He makes one bite of the top. ] First Poet. See how this gingerbread woos the famished rhymer with its almond eyes, and its eyebrows of angelica! [He takes it.] Second Poet. We listen. Third Poet [squeezing a cream-puff gently]. How it laughs! Till its very cream runs over! Second Poet [biting a bit off the great lyre of pastry]. This is the first time in vay life that ever I drew any means of nourishing me from the lyre! Eagueneau [xoho has put himself ready for reciting, cleared his throat, settled his cap, struck an attitude], A recipe in verse! . . . 94 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Second Poet [to First, nudging him]. You are breakfasting? First Poet [to Second]. And you dining, methinks. Kagueneau. How almond tartlets are made. Beat your eggs up, light and quick; Froth them thick; Mingle with them while you beat Juice of lemon, essence fine; Then combine The best milk of almonds sweet. Circle with a custard paste The slim waist Of your tartlet-molds; the top With a skillful finger print, Nick and dint, Bound their edge, then, drop by drop. In its little dainty bed Your cream shed : In the oven place each mold : Reappearing, softly browned. The renowned Almond tartlets you behold! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 95 The Poets [tvith mouths crammed full]. Exquisite! Delicious! A Poet [choking']. Homph! [ Tliey go up, eating. ] Cyrano [who has been watching, goes toxoard Ragueneau]. Lulled by your voice, did you see how they were stuflSng themselves? Ragueneatt [in a low voice, smiling]. Oh, ay! I see well enough, but I never will seem to look, fearing to distress them; thus I gain a double pleasure when I recite to them my poems; for I leave those poor fellows who have not breakfasted free to eat, even while I gratify my own dearest foible, see you ? Cyrano [clapping him on the shoulder]. Friend, I like you right well! . . . [Ragueneau goes after his friends. Cyrano folloivs him ivith his eyes, then, rather sharjily.] Ho there! Lise! [LisE, who is talking tenderly to the Musketeer, starts, and comes down toivard Cyrano. ] So this fine captain is laying siege to you? 96 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. LiSE [offended]. One haughty glance of my eye can conquer any man that should dare venture aught 'gainst my virtue. Ctra.no. Pooh! Conquering eyes, methinks, are oft conquered eyes. Ll3E [choking with anger']. But Cyrano [incisively]. I like Eagueneau well, and so — mark me. Dame Lise— I permit not that he be rendered a laughing-stock by any . . . Lise But . . . Cyrano [who has raised his voice so as to be heard by the gallant]. A word to the wise . . . [He boivs to the Musketeer, and goes to the doonvay to watch, after looking at the clock. ] Lise [to the Musketeer, who has merely bowed in answer to Cyrano's bow]. How now? Is this your courage? . . . Why turn you not a jest on his nose? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 97 The Musketeer. On his nose? . . . ay, ay . . . his nose. [He goes quickly farther away; ItiSE follows him.] Cyrano [from the doorway, signing to Eagueneau to draw the Poets away]. Hist! . . . Eagueneau [showiyig them the door on the right]. "We shall be more private there . . . Cyrano [impatiently]. Hist! Hist! . . . Eagueneau [drawing them farther]. To read poetry, 'tis better here . . . First Poet [despairingly, with his mouth full]. What! leave the cakes? . . . Second Poet. Never! Let's take them with us! [They all folloio Ragueneau in procession, after sweeping all the cakes off the trays. ] 98 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. SCENE V. Cyrano, Roxane, the Duenna. Cyrano. Ah! if I see but the faint glimmer of hope, then I draw out my letter! [Roxane, masked, followed by the Duenna, appears at the glass pane of the door. He opens quickly. ] Enter! . . . \_Walking up to the Duenna.] Two words with you. Duenna. The Duenna. Four, Sir, an it like you. Cyrano. Are you fond of sweet things? The Duenna. Ay, I could eat myself sick on them ! Cyrano [^catching up some of the paper bags from the counter]. Good. See you these two sonnets of Monsieur Beuserade. . . . The Duenna. Hey? Cyrano. . . . "Which I fill for you with cream cakes! The Duenna [changing her expression]. Ha! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 99 Cyrano. What say you to the cake they call a little puff? The Duenna. If made with cream, Sir, I love them passing well. Cyrano. Here I plunge six for your eating into the bosom of a poem by Saint Amant! And in these verses of Chapelaiu I glide a lighter morsel. Stay, love you hot cakes? The Duenna. Ay, to the core of my heart ! Cyrano [filling her arms with the bags]. Pleasure me then ; go eat them all in the street. The Duenna. But . . . Cyrano [pushing her out]. And come not back till the very last crumb be eaten ! [He shuts the door, comes down toroard Eoxane, and, uncovering, stands at a respectful dis- tance from her. 'I 100 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. SCENE VI. Cyrano, Koxane. Ctkano. Blessed be the moment when you condescend — Eemembering that humbly I exist — To come to meet me, and to say ... to tell? . . . BOXANE [who has unmasked]. To thank you first of all. That dandy count, "Whom you checkmated in brave sword-plaj' Last night, ... he is the man whom a great lord. Desirous of my favor . . . Cyrano. Ha, De Guiche? ROXANE [casting down her eyes]. Sought to impose on me . . . for husband . . . Cyrano. Ay! Husband! — dupe-husband! . . . Hus- band a la mode! [Boioing. j Then I fought, happy chance! sweet lady, not For my ill favor — but your favors fair ! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 101 ROXANE. Confession next! . . . But, ere I make my shrift, You must be once again that brother-friend With whom I used to play by the lake-side ! . . . Cyrano. Ay, you would come each spring to Bergerac! ROXANE. Mind you the reeds you cut to make your swords? . . . Cyrano, "While you wove corn-straw plaits for your dolls' hair! Roxane. Those were the days of games! . . . Cyrano. And blackberries! . . . Roxane. In those days you did everything I bid! . . . Cyrano. Roxane, in her short frock, was Madeleine . . . Roxane. Was I fair then? Cyrano. You were not ill to see ! Roxane. Ofttimes, with hands all bloody from a fall. 102 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. You'd run to me ! Then — aping mother-ways — I, in a voice would-be severe, would chide, — [She falcei^ 7??s Jiand.] "What is this scratch, again, that I see here?" [She staiis, siuyrif^ed.'] Oh! 'tis too much! What's this? [Cyeano tries to draw away his hand.] No, let me see! At your age, fie! Where did you get that scratch ? Cyrano. I got it — playing at the Porte de Nesle. ROXANE [seating herself by the table, and dipping her hand- kerchief in a glass of loater]. Give hero! Cyrano [sitting by her]. So soft! so gay maternal-sweet! RoXANE. And tell me, while I wipe away the blood. How many 'gainst you? Cyrano. Oh! a hundred — near. KOXANE. Come, tell me! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 103 Cyrano. No, let be. But you, come tell The thing, just now, you dared not . . . KOXANE [keeping his hand]. Now, I dare! The scent of those old days emboldens me! Yes, now I dare. Listen. I am in leva. Cyrano. Ah! . . . ROXANE. But with one who knows not. Cyrano. Ah! . . . EOXANE. Not yet. Cyrano. Ah! . . . Eoxane. But who, if he knows not, soon shall learn. Cyrano. Ah! . . . RoXANE. A poor youth who all this time has loved Timidly, from afar, and dares not speak . . . Cyrano. Ah! . . . 104 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. KOXANE. Leave your hand; why, it is fever-hot!— But I have seen love trembling on his lips. Cyrano. Ah! . . . EOXANE [bandaging his hand with her handkerchief]. And to think of it! that he by chance — Yes, cousin, he is of your regiment! Cyrano. Ah! ROXANE [laughing]. — Is cadet in your own company! Cyrano. Ah! RoXANE. On his brow he bears the genius-stamp; He is proud, noble, young, intrepid, fair . . . Cyrano [rising suddenly, very pale]. Fair! RoXANE. "Why, what ails you? Cyrano. Nothing; 'tis . . . [He shows his hand, si7iih'ng. ] This scratch! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 105 ROXANE. I love him ; all is said. But you must know I have only seen him at the Comedy . . . Cyrano. How? You have never spoken? RoXANE. Eyes can speak. Cyrano. How know you then that he ... ? EOXANE. Oh ! people talk 'Neath the limes in the Place Royale . . . Gossip's chat Has let me know . . . Cyrano, He is cadet? EoXANE. In the Guards. Cyrano. His name? RoXANE. Baron Christian de Neuvillette. Cyrano, How now? . . . He is not of the Guards! RoXANE, To-day He is to join your ranks, under Captain Carbon de Castel-Jaloux. 106 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Ah, how quick, How quick the heart has flown! . . . But, my poor child . . . The Duenna [opening the door]. The cakes are eaten, Monsieur Borgerac! Cyrano. Then read the verses printed on the bags! [She goes out.] . . . My poor child, you who love but flowing words, Bright wit, — what if he be a lout unskilled? Roxane. No, his bright locks, like D'Urfe's heroes . . . Cyrano. Ah! A well-curled pate, and witless tongue, per- chance! EOXANE. Ah no! I guess — I feel — his words are fair! Cyrano. All words are fair that lurk 'neath fair mustache! — Suppose he were a fool! . . . RoXANE [stamping her foot]. Then bury me I CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 107 Cyrano [after a pause]. Was it to tell me this you brought me here? I fail to see what use this serves, Madame. KOXANE. Nay, but I felt a terror, here, in the heart. On learning yesterday you were Gascons All of your company . . . Cyrano. And we provoke All beardless sprigs that favor dares admit 'Midst us pure Gascons — (purel Heaven save the mark! They told you that as well? EOXANE. Ah ! Think how I Trembled for him ! Cyrano. [between his teeth]. Not causelessly ! KoXANE. But when Last night I saw you, — brave, invincible, — Punish that dandy, fearless hold your own Against those brutes, I thought — I thought, if he Whom ail fear, all — if he would only . . . 108 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Good. I will befriend your little Baron. ROXANE, Ah! You'll promise me you will do this for me? I've always held you as a tender friend. Cyrano. Ay, ay. Roxane. Then you will be his friend? Cyrano. I swear ! Roxane. And he shall fight no duels, promise! Cyrano. None. Roxane. You are kind, cousin! Now I must be gone. [She puts on her mask and veil quitkly; then, absently'] You have not told me of your last night's fray. Ah, but it must have been a hero-fight! . . . — Bid him to write. l^She sends him a kiss with her fingers.] How good you are! Cyrano. Ay! ayl CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 109 EOXANE. A hundred men against you ? Now, farewell. — We are great friends? Cyrano. Ay, ay! EOXANE. Oh, bid him write! You'll tell me all one day — A hundred men ! — Ah, brave! . . . How brave! Cyrano. [bowing to her]. I have fought better since. [She goes out. Cyrano stands motionless, with eyes on the ground. A silence. The door (R) opens. Eaqueneau looks in.'] SCENE VII. Cyrano, Ragueneau, Poets, Carbon be Castel- Jaloux, the Cadets, a crowd, then De Guiche. Eagueneau. Can we come in? Cyrano [loithout stirring]. Yes . . . [Ragueneau signs to his friends, and they come in. At the same time, by door at back, enters Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, in Captain's uni- 110 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. form. He makes gestures of siirpi'ise on seeing Cyrano.] Carbon. Here he is! Cyrano [raising his head]. Captain! . . . Carbon [delightedly ]. Our hero! "We heard all! Thirty or more Of my cadets are there! . . . Cyrano [shrinking back]. But . . . Carbon [trying to draw him away]. Come with me! They will not rest until they see you! Cyrano. No! Carbon. They're drinking opposite, at The Bear's Head. Cyrano. I . . . Carbon [going to the door and. calling across the street in a voice of thunder]. He won't come! The hero's in the sulks! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Ill A Voice [outside]. Ah! Sandious! [Tumult outside. Noise of boots and swords is heard approaching.'] Cakbon [rubbing his hands]. They are running 'cross the street! Cadets [entering]. 3IiUe dious! Capdedious! Pocapdedious! Kaguenkau [drawing back startled']. Gentlemen, are you all from Gascony? The Cadets. All! A Cadet [to Cyrano], Bravo ! Cyrano. Baron ! Another [shaking his hands]. Vivat! Cyrano. Baron 1 Third Cadet, Come! I must embrace you! 11:3 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Baron I Several Gascons. We'll embrace Him, all in turn! Cyrano [not knowitig whom to reply to]. Baron ! . . . Baron ! . . . I beg . . . Eagueneau. Are you all Barons, Sirs? The Cadets. Ay, every one! Ragueneau. Is it true? . . . First Cadet. Ay — why, you could build a tower With nothing but our coronets, my friend ! Le Bret [entering, and running up to Cyrano]. They're looking for you! Here's a crazy mob Led by the men who followed you last night. . . . Cyrano [alarmed]. "What! Have you told them where to find me? Le Bret [rubbing his hands]. Yes! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 113 A Bourgeois [entering, followed by a group of men]. Sir, all the Marais is a-coming here! [Outside the street has filled with people. Chaises a porteurs and carriages have drawn up.'] Le Bret [in a low voice, smiling, to Cyrano]. And Koxane? Cyrano [quickly]. Hush! The Crowd [calling outside], Cyrano! . . . [A crowd rush into the shop, pushing one another. Acclamations. ] Kagueneau. [standing on a table]. Lo! my shop Invaded! They break all! Magnificent! People [crowding round Cyrano). My friend! . . . my friend . . . Cyrano. Meseems that yesterday I had not all these friends! 114 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Le Bret [delighted]. Success! A Young Marquis [hurrying up ivith his hands held out]. My friend, Didst thou but know . . . Cyrano. Thou! . . . Marry! . . . thou! . . . Pray when Did we herd swine together, you and I? Another. I would present you, Sir, to some fair dameti Who in my carriage yonder . . . Cyrano. [coldly]. Ah! and who Will first present you, Sir. to me? Le Bret [asto7iis?ied]. What's wrong? Cyrano. Hush! A Man of Letters. [with wj-iti?ig-board]. A few details? . . . Cyrano. No. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 115 Le Bret [nudging his elboiv]. 'Tis Theopbrast, Renaudet, ... of the Court Gazette! Cyrano. Who cares? Le Bret This paper — but it is of great importance! . . . They say it will be an immense success! A Poet [adva7ici?ig]. Sir . . . Cyrano. "What, another! The Poet. . . . Pray rerrait I make A pentacrostic on your name . . . Some One [also advmicing']. Pray, Sir . . . Cyrano. Enough! enough! [A movement in the crowd. De Guiche ap- pears, escorted by officers. Cuigy, Bris- SAiLLE, the Officers who went with Cyr- ano the night before. Cuigy comes rajjidly up to Cyrano.] 116 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. CuiGY to Cyrano. Here is Monsieur de Guiche? [A murmur — every one makes iL'ay.'\ He comes from the Marshal of Gassion! De Guiche \howing to Cykano]. . . . "Who would express his admiration, Sir, For your new exploit noised so loud abroad. The Crowd. Bravo! Cyrano {boioingl. The Marshal is a judge of valor. De Guiche. He could not have believed the thing, unless These gentlemen had sworn they witnessed it. CuiGY. With our own eyes! Le Bret l^aside to Cyrano, who has an ahsejit air]. But . . . you . . . Cyrano. Hush! Le Bret. But . . . You suffer? Cyrano [starting^. Before this rabble?— I? . . . I CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 117 [He draius himself vp, twirls his mustache, and throios bach his shoulders.^ AVait! . . . You shall see! De Guiche [to whom CuiGY has spoken in a loiv voice']. In feats of arms, already your career Abounded. — You serve with those crazy pates Of Gascons? Cyrano. Ay, with the Cadets. A Cadet \in a terrible voice]. With us! De Guiche [looTcing at the Cadets, ranged behind Cyrano]. Ah! . . . All these gentlemen of haughty mien. Are they the famous? . • . Carbon. Cyrano 1 Cyrano. Ay, Captain! Carbon. Since all my company's assembled here. Pray favor me, — present them to my lord ! Cyrano [making tiuo steps totvard De Guiche]. My Lord de Guiche, permit that I present — 118 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. [Pointing to the Cadets.] The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux! Brawling and swaggering boastfully, Tbe bold Cadets of Gascony! Spouting of Armory, Heraldry, Their veins a-brimming with blood so blue. The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon- of Castel-Jaloux: Eagle-eye, and spindle-shanks. Fierce mustache, and wolfish tooth! Slash-the-rabble and scatter-their-ranks; Eagle-eye and spindle-shanks, "With a flaming feather that gayly pranks. Hiding the holes in their hats, forsooth! Eagle-eye and spindle-shanks, Fierce mustache, and wolfish tooth ! "Pink-your-Doublet" and "Slit-your-Trunk" Are their gentlest sobriquets; With Fame and Glory their soul is drunk! "Piuk-your-Doublct" and "Slit-your-Trunk," In brawl and skirmish they show their spunk. Give rendezvous in broil and fray; "Pink-your-Doublet" and "Slit-your-Trunk" Are their gentlest sobriquets! CVRANO DE BERGERAC. 119 "What, bo! Cadets of Gascony! Ail jealous lovers are sport for you! O Woman! dear divinity! What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! Whom scowling husbands quake to see. Blow, "tararava," and cry "Cuckoo." What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! Husbands and lovers are game for you! De Guiohe {^seaied toWi haugJity carelessness iii an armcTiair hrouglit quickly hy Ragueneau], A poet! 'Tis the fashion of the hour! — Will you be mine? Cyrano. No, Sir, — no man's! De Guiche. Last night Your fancy pleased ray uncle Richelieu. I'll gladly say a word to him for you. Le Bret [overjoyed']. Great Heavens! De Guiche. I imagine you have rhymed Five acts, or so? Le Bret [in Cyrano's ear]. Your play! — your "Agrippine!" You'll see it staged at last! 120 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. De Gdiche. Take them to him. Cyrano \hegin7iing to he tempted and attracted^. In sooth, — I "would . . . De Guiche. He is a critic skilled: He may correct a line or two, at most. Cyrano [whose face stiffens at once]. Impossible! My blood congeals to think That other hand should change a comma's dot. De Guiche. But when a verse approves itself to him He pays it dear, good friend. Cyrano. He pays less dear Than I myself; when a verse pleases me I pay myself, and sing it to myself! De Guiche. You are proud. Cyrano. ^ Keally ? You have noticed tliat? A Cadet [entering, with a string of old battered plumed beaver hats, full of holes, slung on his sword]. See, Cyrano, — this morning, on the quay CVRANO DE BERGERAC. 121 What strange bright-feathered game we caught ! The hats 0' the fugitives . . . Cakbon. *' Spolia opima /" All \laughing'\. Ah! ah! ah! CUIGY. He who laid that ambush, 'faith! Must curse and swear! Brissaille. Who was it? De Gdiche. I myself. [ TJie laughter stops. ] I charged them — work too dirty for my sword. To punish and chastise a rhymster sot. \_Constrained silence.'\ The Cadet [in a loiu voice, to Cyrano, showing him the heaver s'\. What do with them? They're full of grease! — a stew? Cybano [tahing the siuord and, with a salute, dropping the hats at De Guiche's feet]. Sir, pray be good enough to render them Back to your friends. 122 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. De Guiche [risi7ig, sharply']. My chair there — quick! — I go! [To Gyrai^o passw?iak'ly.] As to you, sirrah ! . . . Voice [171 the street]. Porters for my lord De Guiche! De Guiche [wJio has controlled himself — smilitig]. Have you read "Don Quixote"? Cyrano. I have! And doff my hat at th' mad knight-errant's name. De Guiche. I counsel you to study . . . A Porter [appearing at hack]. My lord's chair! De Guiche. . . The windmill chapter! Cyrano [hoiuhig]. Chapter the Thirteenth. De Guiche. For when one tilts 'gainst windmills — it may chance . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 123 Cyrano. Tilt I 'gainst those who change with every breeze ? De Gdiche. . . . That windmill sails may sweep you with their arm Down — in the mire! . . . Cyrano Or upward — ^to the stars t [De Guiche goes out, and mounts into his chair. The other lords go aivay 'whispering together. Le Bret goes to the door with them. TJie crowd disperses.^ SCENE YIII. Cyran"o, Le Bret, the Cadets^ luho are eating and drinking at the tables R. and L. Cyrano. [bojoing mochingly to those who go out withotit daring to salute him]. Gentlemen . . . Gentlemen . . . Le Bret \coming hack, despairingly']. Here's a fine coil! Cyrano. Oh ! scold away ! Le Bret At least, you will agree 124 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. That to annihilate each chance of Fate Exaggerates , . . Cyrano. Yes! — I exaggerate! Le Bket {triumpliantly']. Ahl Cyrano. But for principle — example too, — I think 'tis well thus to exaggerate. Le Bret. Oh! lay aside that pride of musketeer. Fortune and glory wait you! . . . Cyrano. Ay, and then? . . . Seek a protector, choose a patron out. And like the crawling ivy round a tree That licks the bark to gain the trunk's support. Climb high by creeping ruse instead of force? No, grammercy! What! I, like all the rest Dedicate verse to bankers? — play buffoon In cringing hope to see, at last, a smile Not disapproving, on a patron's lips? Grammercy, no! What! learn to swallow toads? — With frame aweary climbing stairs? — a skin Grown grimed and horny, — here, about the knees? And, acrobat-like, teach my back to bend? — CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 135 No, grammercy! Or, — double-faced and sly — Euu with the hare, while hunting with the hounds; And, oily-tongued, to win the oil of praise. Flatter the great man to his very nose? No, grammercy ! Steal soft from lap to lap, — A little great man in a circle small. Or navigate, with madrigals for sails. Blown gently windward by old ladies' sighs? No, grammercy! Bribe kindly editors To spread abroad my verses? Grammercy! Or try to be elected as the pope Of tavern-councils held by imbeciles? No, grammercy ! Toil to gain reputation By one small sonnet, 'stead of making many? No, grammercy! Or flatter sorry bunglers? Be terrorized by every prating paper? Say ceaselessly, "Oh, had I but the chance Of a fair notice in the Mei'cury!" Grammercy, no! Grow pale, fear, calculate? Prefer to make a visit to a rhyme? Seek introductions, draw petitions up? No, grammercy ! and no ! and no again ! But — sing? Dream, laugh, go lightly, solitary, free. With eyes that look straight forward — fearless voice ! To cock your beaver just the way you choose, — 1^6 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. For "yes" or "no" show fight, or turn a rliyme! — To work without one thought of gain or fame. To realize that journey to the moon ! Never to pen a line that has not sprung ►Straight from the heart within. Embracing then Modesty, say to oneself, "Good my friend. Be thou content with flowers, — fruit, — nay, leaves. But pluck them from no garden but thine own!" And then, if glory come by chance your way. To pay no tribute unto Csesar, none, But keep the merit all your own! In short. Disdaining tendrils of the parasite. To be content, if neither oak nor elm — Not to mount high, perchance, but mount alonel Le Bret. Alone, an if you will! But not with hand 'Gainst every man! How in the devil's name Have 3'ou conceived this lunatic idea. To make foes for yourself at every turn? Cyrano. By dint of seeing you at every turn Make friends, — and fawn upon your frequent friends With mouth wide smiling, slit from ear to ear! I pass, still unsaluted, joyfully. And cry, — What, bo! another enemy? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 127 Le BxiET Lunacy! Cyrano. "Well, what if it be my vice, My pleasure to displease — to love men hate me! Ah, friend of miue, believe me, I march better 'Neath the cross-fire of glances inimical! How droll the stains one sees on fine-laced doublets. From gall of envy, or the poltroon's drivel! ■ — The enervating friendship which enfolds you Is like an open-laced Italian collar. Floating around your neck in woman's fashion; One is at ease thus, — but less proud the carriage! The forehead, free from mainstay or coercion. Bends here, there, everywhere. But I, embrac- ing Hatred, she lends, — forbidding, stiffly fluted. The ruff's starched folds that hold the head so rigid; Each enemy — another fold— a gopher, Who adds constraint, and adds a ray of glory; For Hatred, like the ruff worn by the Spanish, Grips like a vice, but frames j'ou like a halo! Le Bret [^after a silence, talcing his arm]. Speak prond aloud, and bitter! — In my ear "Whisper me simply this, — She loves thee not I 128 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano Iye7ie7nenfli/^. Hush! Christian has just entered, and mingled loith the Cadets, who do not speak to him; he has seated himself at a table, where Lise serves him.^ SCENE IX. Cyrano, Le Bret, the Cadets, Christian de Neuvil- LETTE. A Cadet [seated at a table, glass in hand^. Cyrano ! [Cyrano turns roicnd.] The story I Cyrano. In its timel [He goes tip on Le Bret's arm. They talk in low voices. ] The Cadet [rising and coming down'\. The story of the fray ! 'Twill lesson well [He stops before the table where Christian is seated.} This timid young apprentice! Christian [raising his head]. Trentigel Who? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 139 Another Cadet. This sickly Northern greenhorn I Christian. Sickly! First Cadet [moclingly], Harkl Monsieur de Neuvillette, this in your ear: There's somewhat here, one no more dares to name. Than to say "rope" to one whose sire was hanged! Christian. What may that be? Another Cadet [tw a terrible voice']. See here! [He puts his finger three times, mysterio^isly, on his nose.] Do you understand? Christian. Oh! 'tis the . . . Another. Hush ! oh, never breathe that word^. Unless you'd reckon with him yonder! [He points to Cyrano, who is talking with Lb Bret.] 130 CYRANO dp: bergerac. Another [wJio has meamvliile come up noiselessly to sit on the table — whisperiny behind him]. Hark! He put t^vo snuffling men to death, in rage, Por the sole reason they spoke through their nose! Another [i)i a holloio voice, darting on all-fours from under the table, ichere he had crept]. And if you -would not perish in flower o* youth, — Oh, mention not the fatal cartilage! Another [clapping him on the shoulder], A word? A gesture! For the indiscreet His handkerchief may prove his winding-sheet! \_Silence. All, with crossed a?-?ns, look at Christian. He rises and goes over to Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, who is talk- ing to an Officer, and feigns to see noth' ing.] Christian. Captain! Carbon [turning and looking at him from head to foot]. Sir! Christian. Pray, what skills it best to do To Southerners who swagger? . . . CYRANO DE BERGKRAC. 131 Carbon. Give them proof That one may be a Northerner, yet brave ! [He turns his bach on 7iim.] Christian. 1 thank you. FiR&T Cadet [to Cyrano]. Now the tale I All. The tale! Cyrano [comi7ig toivard them]. The tale? . . . [All bring their stools vp, and group round Mm, listening eagerly. CHRisxiAif is astride a chair. ^ "Well! I went all alone to meet the band. The moon was shining, clock-like, full i' th' sky. When, suddenly, some careful clockwright passed A cloud of cotton-wool across the case That held this silver watch. And, presto! heigh! The night was inky black, and all the quays Were hidden in the murky dark. Gadsooksl One could see nothing further . . . CflRISTL&N. Than one's nose! [Silence. All sloioly rise, looJcing in terror at Cyrano, who has stopped — dumfounded. Pause.] 132 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Who on God's earth is that? A Cadet [whispering]. It is a man Who joined to-day. Cyrano [7naJci7ig a step toward Christian]. To-day? Carbon [in a low voice]. Yes . . . his name is The Baron de Neuvil . . . Cyrano [cJiecki7ig himself]. Goodl it is well . . . [He turns pale, flushes, makes as if to fall on Christian.] I . . . [He controls himself. 1 What said I? . . . [ With a burst of rage.] Mordious! . . . [The?i continues calmly.] That it was dark. [Astonishment. Tlie Cadets reseat themselves, staring at him.] On I went, thinking, "For a knavish cause CYRANO DE BERGFRAC. 133 I may provoke some great man, some great prince, Who certainly could break" . . . Christian. My nose! . . . [Every one starts up. Christian balances on his cJiair.^ Cyrano [in a choTced voice] . . . . "My teeth! Who would break my teeth, and I, imprudent- like, Was poking ..." Christian. My nose! . . . Cyrano. "My finger, ... in the crack Between the tree and bark 1 He may prove strong And rap me . . ." Christian. Over the nose ... Cyrano. [■wiping Ms forehead]. . . . "O* th' knuckles! Ay," But I cried, "Forward, Gascon! Duty calls! On, Cyrano!" And thus I ventured on . . . When, from the shadow, came . . . Christian, A crack o' th' nose. 134 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. I parry it — find myself . . . Christian. " Nose to nose . . . Cyrano [bonndi)ig on to him]. Heaven and earth! [All the Gascons leap np to see, hut when he is close to Christiajs" he co?itrols himself and continues. ] . . . "With a hundred brawling sots. Who stank. . . Christian. A noseful . . . Cyrano [luhite, hut smiling]. Onions, brandy-cups! I leapt out, head ^vell down. . . Christian. Nosing the wind! Cyrano. I charge! — gore two, impale one — run him through, One aims at me — Paf ! and I parry. . . Christian. Pifl Cyrano [hjirsting out]. Great God! Out! all of you! \The Cadets rush to the doors.] CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 135 First Cadet. The tiger wakes! Cyrano. Every man, out! Leave me alone ■with him! Second Cadet. We shall find him minced fine, minced into hash In a big pasty 1 Ragueneau. I am turning pale, And curl up^ like a napkin, limp and white! Carbon. Let us be gone. Another. He will not leave a crumb! Another. I die of fright to think what will pass here! Another [shutting door 72.]. Something too horrible! [All have gone out hy different doors, some hy the staircase. Cyeano a7id Christian are face to face, looking at each other for a moment.] SCENE X. Cyrano, Christian. Cyrano. Embrace me now! Christun. Sir . . 136 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. You are brave. Christian. Oh! but . . . Cyrano. Nay, I insist. Christian. Pray tell me . . . Cyrano. Come, embrace! I am her brother. Christian. Whose brother? Cyrano. Hers, i' faith! Koxane'sl Christian [rushing up to Mni]. O heavens! Her brother . . . ? Cyrano. Cousin-brother! . . . the same thing! Christian. And she has told you . . . ? Cyrano. All! Christian. She loves me? say I Cyrano. Maybe! Christian [faking his hands'\. How glad I am to meet you, Sirl CVRANO DE BEilGERAC. 137 Cybano. Tliat may be called a sudden sentiment! Christian. I ask youi- pardon . . . Cyrano [looking at him, with his hand on his shouldef\. True, he's fair, the villain! Christian. Ah, Sir! If you but knew my admiration! . . . Cyrano. But all those noses? . . . Christian. Oh ! I take them back I Cyrano. Koxane expects a letter. Christian. "Woe the day I Cyrano. How? Christian. I am lost if I but ope my lips! Cyrano. Why so? Christian. I am a fool — could die for shamel Cyrano. None is a fool who knows himself a fool. And you did not attack me like a fool. Christian. Bah! One finds battle-cry to lead th' assault I 138 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. I have a certain military wit. But, before women, can but hold my tongue. Their eyes! True, when I pass, their eyes are kind . . . Cyrano. And, when you stay, their hearts, methinks, are kinder? Christian. No! for I am one of those men — tongue-tied, I know it — who can never tell their love. Cyrano. And I, meseems, had Nature been more kind. More careful, when she fashioned me, — had been One of those men who well could speak their love! Christian. Oh, to express one's thoughts with facile grace! . . . Cyrano. . . . To be a musketeer, with handsome face! Christian. Eoxane is precie use. I'm sure to prove A disappointment to her! Cyrano [looking at html. Had I but Such an interpreter to speak my soul! Christian [u/ifh despair]. Eloquence! Where to find it? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 139 Cyrano. [abruptlyl. That I lend, If you lend me you handsome victor-charms; Blended, we make a hero of romance 1 Christian. How so? Cyrano. Think you you can repeat what things I daily teach your tongue? . . . Christian. What do you mean? . . . Cyrano. Eoxane shall never have a disillusion! Say, wilt thou that we woo her, double-handed? "Wilt thou that we two woo her, both together? Feel'st thou, passing from my leather doublet. Through thy laced doublet, all my soul inspiring? Christian. But, Cyrano! .... Cyrano. Will you, I say? Christian. I fear! Cyrano. Since, by yourself, you fear to chill her heart. Will you — to kindle all her heart to flame — ■ Wed into one my phrases and your lips? Christian. Your eyes flash I 140 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Will you? Christian. Will it please you so? — Give you such pleasure? Cyrano l^niadly']. It! . . . [Then calmly, business-like.'] It would amuse me I It is an enterprise to tempt a poet. Will 3'ou complete me, and let me complete you? You march Yictorious, — I go in your shadow; Let me be wit for you, be you my beauty 1 Christian. The letter, that she waits for even now! I never can . . . Cyrano [taking out the letter he had written']. See! Here it is — your letter! Christian. What? Cyrano. Take it! Look, it wants but the address. Christian. But I . . . Cyrano. Fear nothing. Send it. It will suit. Christian. But have you . . . ? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 141 Cyrano. Oh ! we have our pockets full, "We poets, of love-letters, writ to Chloes, Daphnes — creations of our noddle-heads. Our lady-loves, — phantasms of our brains, — Dream-fancies blown into soap-bubbles ! Come ! Take it, and change feigned love-words into true; I breathed my sighs and moans haphazard-wise; Call all these wandering love-birds home to nest. You'll see that I was in these lettered lines, — Eloquent all the more, the less sincere! ■ — Take it, and make an end! Christian. Were it not well To change some words? Written haphazard-wise, WillitfitEoxane? Cyrano. 'Twill fit like a glove! Christian. But . . . Cyrano. Ah, credulity of love! Eoxane Will think each word inspired by herself! Christian. My friend! [He throws himself into Cyrano's arms. They re- main thus.'\ 14:2 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. SCENE XL Cyrano, Christian, the Gascons, the Musketeer, Lise. A Cadet [half opening the doorl. Nauglit here! . . . The silence of the grave! I dare not look . . . [He puts his head in. ] Why? . . . All the C. dets ^entering, and seeing Cyrako and Christian embrac- ing'} Oh! . . . A Cadet. This passes alll [Consternation.'] The Musketeer [niockingly']. Ho, hoi . . . Carbon. Our demon has become a saint? Struck on one nostril — lo! he turns the other! Musketeer. Then \vo may speak about his nose, hence- forth! . . . [Calling to Lise, hoadfidhj.'] — Ah, Lise, see here! [Sniffing ostentatiously.] O heavens! . . . what a stink! . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 143 [Going np to Cyeano.] You, sir, without a doubt have sniffed it up! — What is the smell I notice here? Cyrano ^cuffing his head]. Clove-heads. [General delight. The Cadets have found the old Cyrano again! TJiey turn somersaults.^ Curtain. lU CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ACT III, Eoxane's Kiss. A small square in the okl Marais. Old houses. A perspective of little streets. On the right Eoxane's house and the M'all of her garden overhung with thick foliage. Window and balcony over the door. A bench in front. From the bench and the stones jutting out of the wall it is easy to climb to the balcony. In front of an old house in the same style of brick and stone. The knocker of this door is bandaged with linen like a sore thumb. At the rising of the curtain the DuErNA is seated on the bench. The window on Eoxane's balcony is wide open. Eagueaeau is standing near the door in a sort of livery. He has just finished relating some- thing to the Duenna, and is wiping his eyes. CVRANO DE BERGERAC. 145 SCENE I. Ragdeneau, ^he Duenna. Then Roxane, Cyrano, aiid two Pages. Ragueneau, — And then, off she went, with a musketeer! Deserted and ruined too, I would make an end of all, and so hanged myself. M.v last breath was drawn : — then in comes Monsieur de Ber- gerac! He cuts me down, and begs his cousin to take me for her steward. The Duenna. "Well, but how came it about that you were thus ruined? Ragueneau, Oh ! Lise loved the warriors, and I loved the poets! What cakes there were that Apollo chanced to leave were quickly snapped up by Mars. Thus ruin was not long a-coming. The Duenna [rising, and calling up to the open window]. Eoxane, are you ready? They wait for us! Roxane's Voice [from the icindow]. I will but put me on a cloak! The Duenna [to Ragueneau, showing him the door opposite]. They wait us there opposite, at Clomire's house. She receives them all there to-day — the 146 CYRANO DE BEKGERAC. jyrecieuses, the poets; they read a discourse on the Tender Passion. Ragueneau. The Tender Passion? The Duenna [in a mincing voice']. Ay, indeed! [Calling %ip to the ivindoic] Roxane, an you come not down quickly, we shall miss the discourse on the Tender Passion! Roxane's Voice. I come! I come! [A sound of stringed instruments approaching.] Cyrano's Voice [behind the scenes, singing]. La, la, la, la! The Duenna [siirprised]. They serenade us? Cyrano [foUo2ced by two Pages with arch-lutes], I tell you they are demi-semi-quavers, demi- semi-fool ! FrnsT Page [ironically]. You know then, Sir, to distinguish between fjenii-quavers and demi-semi-quavers? Cyrano. Is not every disciple of Gassendi a musician? CYRANO DE BERGKRAC. 147 The Page [playing and singing']. La^ la! Cyrano [snatching the lute from him, and going on with the phrase]. In proof of which, I can continue! La, la, la, la! KOXANE. [apptearing on the balcony]. What? 'Tisyou? Cyrano [going on with the air, and singing to it]. 'Tis I, who come to serenade your lilies, and pay my devoir to your ro — o — oses! ROXANE. I am coming down ! [She leaves the balcony.] The Duenna [pointing to the Pages]. How come these two virtuosi here? Cyrano. 'Tis for a wager I won of D'Assoucy. "We were disputing a nice point in grammar; contradic- tions raged hotly—" 'Tis so!" "Nay, 'tisso!" when suddenly he shows me these two long- shanks, whom he takes about with him as an escort, and who are skillful in scratching lute- strings with their skinny claws! "I will wager 148 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. you a day's music," says he! — And lost it! Thus, see you, till Phoebus' chariot starts once again, these lute-twangers are at my heels, see- ing all I do, hearing all I say, and accom"pany- iug all with melody. 'Twas pleasant at the first, but i' faith, I begin to weary of it already! [To (he Musicians.] Ho there! go serenade Montfleury for me! Play a dance to him! [ The Pages go toward the door. To the Duenna. ] I have come, as is my wont, nightly, to ask Eoxane whether . . . [To the Pages, tvho are going out.'] Play a long time, — and play out of tune! [ To the Duenna. . . . "Whether her soul's elected is ever the same, ever faultless! ROXANE [coming out of the house']. Ah! How handsome he is, how brilliant a wit! And — how well I love him ! Cyrano [smiling]. Christian has so brilliant a wit? RoXANE. Brighter than even your own, cousin! Cyrano. Be it so, with all my heart! CYRANO DE BERGFRAC. 149 ROXANK. Ah! methinks 'twere impossible that there could breathe a man on this earth skilled to say as sweetly as he all the pretty nothings that mean so much — that mean all! At times his mind seems far away, the Muse says naught — and then, presto! he speaks — bewitchingly ! enchantingly ! Cyrano [incredulo usly]. No, no! ROXANE. Fie! That is ill said! Butlo! men are ever thus! Because he is fair to see, you would have it that he must be dull of speech. Cyrano. He hath an eloquent tongue in telling his love? Roxane. In telling his love? why, 'tis not simple tell- ing, 'tis dissertation, 'tis analysis! Cyrano. How is he with the pen? ROXANE. Still better! Listen, — here: — [^Reciting. ] "The more of my poor heart you take The larger grows my heart!" \_Triumphantlij to Cyrano.] How like you those lines? 150 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Pooh I ROXANE, And thus it goes on . . , "And, since some target I must show For Cupid's cruel dart. Oh, if mine own you deign to keep. Then give me 3'our sweet heart!" Cyrano. Lord! first he has too much, then anon not enough! How much heart does the fellow Avaiit? ROXANE. You would vex a saint! . . . But 'tis your jealousy. Cyrano lsta7'ting'\. What mean you? Roxane. Ay, your poet's jealousy! Hark now, if this again be not tender-sweet? — "My heart to yours sends but one cry: If kisses fast could flee By letter, then with your sweet lips My letters read should be! If kisses could be writ with ink. If kisses fast could flee!" Cyrano [smilivg approvingly in spite of himself]. Ha! those last lines are, — hm! . . , hml . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 161 [ CorrecHng himself — contemptuously. ] —They are paltry' enough ! KOXANE. And this . . . Cyrano [enchanted]. Then you have his letters by heart? ROXANE. Every one of them ! Cyrano, By all oaths that can be sworn, — 'tis flattering! Roxane, They are the lines of a master! Cyrano [modestly']. Come, nay ... a master? . . . RoXANE. Ay, I say it — a master 1 Cyrano. Good — be it so. The Duenna [coming doum quickly']. Here comes Monsieur de Guiche ! [To Cyrano, pushing him toward the house.] In with you! 'twere best he see you not; it might perchance put him on the scent . . . Roxane. [to Cyrano]. Ay, of my own dear secret! He loves me, and 152 CYRAJJO DE iJERGERAC. is powerful, and, if he knew, then all were lost! Marry! he could well deal a deathblow to my lovel Cyrano [entering the house']. Good! good! [De Guiche appears."] SCENE II. RoxANE, De Guiche, the Duenna standing a little way off". ROXANE. [coiirtesying to De GuicheJ. I was going out. De Guiche. I come to take my leave. RoXANE, "Whither go you? De Guiche. To the war. ROXANE. Ah! De Guiche. Ay, to-night. RoXANE. Oh! De Guiche. I am ordered away. "NVe are to besiege Arras. Roxane. Ah — to besiege? . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 153 De Guiche. Ay. My going moves you not, meseems. ROXANE. Nay . . . De Guiche. I ara grieved to the core of the heart. Shall I again behold you? . . . When? I knove not. Heard you that I am named commander? . . . ROXANE [indifferently'\. Bravo f De Guiche. Of the Guards regiment. ROXANE [^8tartled\ What! the Guards? De Guiche, Ay, where serves your cousin, the swaggering boaster. I will fiud a way to revenge myself on him at Arras. ROXANE \choking\ What mean j'ou? The Guards go to Arras? De Guiche [laughing^ Bethink you, is it not my own regiment? ROXANE [falling seated on the bench — asirfe]. Christian ! 154 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. De Guiche What ails you? ROXANE [moved deejdy']. Oh — I am in despair! The mau one loves! — at the war! De Guiche [surprised and delighted]. You say such sweet words to me! 'Tis the first time! — and just when I must quit you! EOXANE [collected, and fanning herself]. Thus, — you would fain revenge your grudge against my cousin? De Guiche. My fair lady is on his side? RoXANE. Nay, — against him! De Guiche. Do you see him often? Ruxane. But very rarely. De Guiche. He is ever to be met now in company with one of the cadets, . . . one New — villen — viller Roxane. Of high stature? De Guiche. Fair-haired! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 155 KOXANE. Ay, a red-headed fellow! De Guiche, Handsome! . . . Tut! But dull-witted. EOXANE. De Guiche. ROXANE. One would think so, to look at him! [Changing her tone.] How mean you to play your revenge on Cyrano? Perchance you think to put him i' the thick of the shots? Nay, believe me, that were a poor vengeance— he would love such a post better than aught else! I know the way to wound his pride far more keenly ! De Guiche. What then? tell . . . EOXANE, If, when the regiment march to Arras, he were left here with his beloved boon companions, the Cadets, to sit with crossed arms so long as the war lasted! There is your methr'i, would you enrage a man of his kind; chei»6 him of his chance of mortal danger, and you punish him right fiercely. 156 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. De Guiche [comiiig nearer}. woman ! woman ! Who but a woman bad e'er devised so subtle a trick? KOXANE. See you not bow be will eat out bis beart, wbile bis friends gnaw tbeir tbick fists for that tbey are deprived of the battle ? So are you best avenged. De Guiche. You love me, tben, a little? [She smiles.'] 1 would fain — seeing you tbus espouse my cause, Roxaue — believe it a proof of love! ROXANE. 'Tis a proof of love ! De Guiche [showmg some sealed papers]. Here are tbe marcbing orders; tbey will be sent instantly to eacb company — except — [He defaches one.] — Tbis one! 'Tis tbat of tbe Cadets. [He puts it in his pocket.] Tbis I keep. [Laughing.] Ha! ba! ha! Cyrano! His love of battle! ... So you can play tricks on people? . . . you, of all ladies! ROXANE. Sometimes! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 157 De Guiche (f^o'>ding close to /ie?']. Chi xjvv i Jc7c 5'ou! — to distraction! Listen! To-ni'^**^ — ^'^rijc-, I ought to start — but — how leave you rr)V that I feel your heart is touched! Hard by, in the Eue d'Orleans, is a convent founded by Father Athanasius, the syndic of the Capuchins. True that no layman may enter — but — I can settle that with the good Fathers! Their habit sleeves are wide enough to hide me in. 'Tis they who serve Richelieu's private chapel: and from respect to the uncle, fear the nephew. All will deem me gone. I will come to you, masked. Give me lea'^e to wait till to-morrow, sweet Lady Fanciful! ROSANE. But, if this be rumored, your glory . . . De Guiche. Bah! EOXANE. But the siege — Arras . . . De Guiche. 'Twill take its chance. Grant but permission. EOXANE. No! Give me leave ! De Guiche. ROXANE [tenderly']. It were my duty to forbid you ! 158 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. De Guiche. Ah! KOXANE. You must go! [Afrings forioard, and by means of the bench, the branches, and the pillars, climbs to the balcony and strides over it.] Christian. Ah, Roxane! [He takes her in his arms, and bends over her lips]. Cyrano. Aie! Strange pain that wrings my heart! The kiss, love's feast, so near! I, Lazarus, Lie at the gate in darkness. Yet to me Falls still a crumb or two from the rich man's board — Ay, 'tis my heart receives thee, Roxane — mine! For on the lips you press you kiss as well The words I spoke just now! — my words — my words! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 185 [ The lutes play. ] A sad air, — a gay air: the monk! [He begins to run as if he came from a long way off, and cries out. ] Holal ROXANE. Who is it? Cyrano. I — I was but passing by . . . Is Christian there? Christian [^astonished]. Cyrano ! BOXANE. Good-day, cousin! Cyrano. Cousin, good-day! RoXANE. I'm coming! [She disappears into the house. At the back re- enter the Friar.] Christian [seeing him]. Back again! [He follows RoxANE.] 186 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. SCENE X. Cyrano, Christian, Roxane, the Friar, Eagueneau. The Friar, 'Tis here, — I'm sure of it — Madame Madeleine Robin. Cyrano. "Why, you said Ro-Z?n. The Friar. No, not I. B, i, n, bin! Roxane [ajypearing on the threshold, folloived by Ragueneau, who carries a lantern, and Christian]. What is't? The Friar A letter. Christian. What? The Friar [to Roxane]. Oh, it can boot but holy business! 'Tis from a worthy lord . . . Roxane. [to Christian]. De Guiche! Christian. He dares. . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 187 EOXANE. Ob, he will not importune me forever! [Unsealing the letter.^ I love you, — therefore [She reads in a low voice by the aid of Eague- NEAu's lantern.] "Lady, The drums beat; My regiment buckles its harness on And starts; but I, — they deem me gone before — ■ But I stay. I have dared to disobey Your mandate. I am here in convent walls. I come to you to-night. By this poor monk — A simple fool who knows not what he bears — ■ I send this missive to apprise your ear. Your lips erewhile have smiled on me, too sweet: I go not ere I've seen them once again! I would be private; send each soul away, Eeceive alone him, — whose great boldness you Have deigned, I hope, to pardon, ere he asks, — He who is ever your — et cetera." [To the Mo^K.] Father, this is the matter of the letter : — [All come near her, and she reads aloud.] "Lady, The Cardinal's wish is law; albeit It be to you unwelcome. For this cause I send these lines — to your fair ear addressed — 188 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. By a holy man, discreet, intelligent : It is our will that you receive from him. In your own house, the marriage [She turns the page.] benediction Straightway, this night. Unknown to all the world Christian becomes your husband. Him we send. He is abhorrent to your choice. Let be. Resign yourself, and this obedience Will be by Heaven well recompensed. Receive, Fair lady, all assurance of respect. From him who ever was, and still remains. Your humble and obliged — et cetera." The Friar [iDith great delight]. O worthy lord! I knew naught was to fear; It could be but a holy business! ROXANE [to Christian, in a low voice]. Am I not apt at reading letters? Christian. Hum I ROXANE [aloud, with despair]. But this is horrible I CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 189 The Friar [who has turned his lantern on Cyrano]. 'Tisyou? Christian. 'Tis I! The Friar Iturning the light on to him, and as if a doubt struck him on seeing his beauty^. But . . . ROXANE [^quickly]. I have overlooked the postscript — see : — *'Give twenty pistoles for the Convent." The Friar. ... Oh! Most worthy lord ! [To RoXANE.] Submit you? RoXANE [with a martyr's look"]. I submit! [ While Ragueneau ojjens the door, and Christun invites the Friar to enter, she whispers to Cyrano. J Oh, keep De Guiche at bay! He will be here I Let him not enter till . . . 190 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. I understand ! [To //le Friar.] "What time need you to tie the marriage-knot? The Friar. A quarter of an hour. Cyrano [^pushing them all toward the /louse]. Go ! I stay. KOXANE [to Christian]. Come! . . . [Theij enter. 2 Cyrano. Now, how to detain De Guiche so long? [He jumps on the bench, climbs to the balcony by the wall. ] Come! ... up I go! ... I have my plan! . . , [ The lutes begin to play a very sad air. ] What, ho! [ TJie tremolo grows more and more weird']. It is a man! ay! 'tis a man this time! He is on the balcony, pulls his hat over his eyes, takes off his sword, wraps himself in his cloak, then leans over.] 'Tis not too high! [He strides across the balcony, and drawing to CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 191 him a long branch of one of the trees that are by the garden wall, he hangs on to it with both hands, ready to let himself fall. 1 I'll shake this atmosphere! SCENE XI. Cyrano, De Guiche. De Guiche [who enters, masked, feeling his way in the dark]. What can that cursed Friar be about? Cyrano. The devil! . . . If he knows my voice! \_Letting go with one hand, he pretends to turn an invisible key. Solemnly.] Cric! Crac! Assume thou, Cyrano, to serve the turn. The accent of thy native Bergerac! . . . De Guiche \looking at the house]. 'Tis there. I see dim, — this mask hinders me! [He is about to enter, when Cyrano leaps from the balcony, holding on to the branch, which bends, dropping him between the door and De Guiche ; he pretends to fall heavily, as from a great height, and lies flat on the ground, motionless, as if stunned. De Guiche starts back.] 192 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. What's this? [ WJien he looks up, the branch has sprung bach into its place. He sees only the sky, and is lost in amazement. ] "Where fell that man from ? Cyrano [sitting up, and speaking ivith a Gascon acceyit]. From the moon I De Guiche. From . . . ? Cyrano [in a dreamy voice"]. What's o'clock? De Guiche He's lost his mind, for surel Cyrano. What hour? What country this? What month? What day? De Guiche. But . . . Cyrano. I am stupefied 1 De Guiche. Sir! Cyrano. Like a bomb I fell from the moon I CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 193 De Guiche [impatientlyl. Come now! Cyeano [rising, in a terrible voicel. I say, — the moon! De Guiche [recoilingl. Good, good! let it be so! . . . He's raving mad! Cyrano [walking up to Am]. I sa5' from the moon ! I mean no metaphor! . . . De Guiche. But . . . Cyrano. Was't a hundred years — a minute, since? — I cannot guess what time that fall embraced! — That I was in that saffron-colored ball ? De Guiche [shrugging his shoulders']. Good! let me pass! Cyrano [intercepting /im]. Where am I? Tell the truth! Fear not to tell! Oh, spare me not! Where? where? Have I fallen like a shooting star? 194 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. De Guiche. Morhleu! Cyrano. The fall was lightning-quick! no time to choose Where I should fall — I know not where it be! Oh, tell me! Is it on a moon or earth, That my posterior weight has landed me? De Gdiche. I tell you. Sir . . , Cyrano [with a screech of terror, which makes De Guiche start hack']. No? Can it be? I'm on A planet where men have black faces? De Guiche \_pulting his hand to his face']. What? Cyrano. [feigning great alarm]. Am I in Africa? A native you? De Guiche [7vho has remembered his mask]. This mask of mine . . . Cyrano [pretending to be reassured]. In Venice? ha! — or Eome? De Guiche [trying to pass^ A lady waits . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 195 Cyrano [quite reassured]. Ob-ho! I am in Paris! De Guiche [smiling in sjnte of himself]. The fool is comical ! Cyrano. You laugh? De Guiche. I laugh. But would get by ! Cyrano [beaming ivith joy]. I have shot back to Paris! [Quite at ease, laughing, dusting himself, bowing]. Come — pardon me — by the last water-spout. Covered with ether, — accident of travel! My eyes still full of star-dust, and my spurs Encumbered by the planets' filaments! [Picking something off his sleeve.] Ha! on my doublet? — ah, a comet's hair! . . . [He puffs as if to blow it away, j De Guiche [beside himself}. Sir! . . . 196 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano IJust as he is about to pass, holds out his leg as if to t' cloaks.^ Carbon. [to Cyrano in a whisper^. But you make them weep! Cyrano. Ay, for homesickness. A nobler ]iain than hunger, — 'tis of the soul, not of the body ! I am CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 219 well pleased to see their pain change its viscera. Heart-ache is better than stomach-ache. Carbon. But you weaken their courage by playing thus on their heart-strings! Cyrano [making a sign to a drummer to approach']. Not I. The hero that sleeps in Gascon blood is ever ready to awake in them. 'Twould suffice . . . [He malces a signal; the drum heats.] All the Cadets [stand up and rush to take ar7ns]. What? What is it? Cyrano [s7n iling] . You see! One roll of the drum is enough! Good-by dreams, regi'ets, native land, love. . . . All that the pipe called forth the drum has chased away! A Cadet [looking foivard the back of the stage]. Ho! here comes Monsieur de Guiche. All the Cadets [muttering]. Ugh! . . . Ugh! . . . Cyrano [sjniling], A flattering welcome! A Cadet. We are sick to death of him! 320 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Another Cadet. • — With his lane collar over his armor, playing the fiue gentleman! Another. As if one wore linen over steel! The First. It were good for a bandage had he boils on his neck. The Second. Another plotting courtier! Another Cadet. His uncle's own nephew! Carbon. For all that — a Gascon. The First. Ay, false Gascon ! . . . trust him not . . . Gascons should ever be crack-brained. . . . Naught more dangerous than a rational Gascon. Le Bret. How pale he is! Another. Oh ! he is hungry, just like us poor devils; but under his cuirass, with its fine gilt nails, his stomach-ache glitters brave in the sun. Cyrano. \hurriedly']. Let us not seem to suffer either! Out with your cards, pipes, and dice. . , . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 221 [All begin spreading out tlie games on the drums, the stools, the ground, and on their cloaks, and light long pipes.] And. I sLall read Descartes. [He walks up aiid down, reading a little book ivhich he has drawn from his pocket. Tab- leau. Enter De Guiche. All appear ab- sorbed and happy. He is very pale. He goes tip to Carbon.] SCENE IV. The Same. De Guiche. De Guiche [to Carbon]. Good-day! [They examine each other. Aside, with satis- factio7i.] He's green. Carbon [aside]. He has nothing left but eyes. De Guiche [looking at the Cadets]. Here are the rebels! Ay, Sirs, on all sides I hear that in your ranks you scoff at me; I^hat the Cadets, these loutish, mountain-bred. Poor country squires, and barons of Perigord, iScarce find for me — their Colonel — a disdain 223 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Sufficient! call me plotter, wily courtier! It does not please their mightiness to see A point-lace collar on n)y steel cuirass, — ■ And they enrage, because a man, in sooth. May be no ragged-robin, yet a Gascon! [Silence. All smoke and play.^ Shall I command your Captain punish you? No. Carbon. I am free, moreover, — will not punish — De Guiche. Ah! Carbon. I have paid my company — 'tis mine. I bow but to headquarters, De Guiche, So?— In faith! That will suffice, [Addressing Jiimself to the Cadets.] I can despise your taunts; 'Tis well known how I bear me in the war; At Bapaume, yesterday, they saw the rage "With which 1 beat back the Count of Bucquoi; Assembling my own men, I fell on his, And charged three separate times! Cyrano [loitTiout lifting his eyes from his looJc]. And your white scarf? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 223 De Gdiche {^surprised and gratified^. You know that detail? . . . Troth! it happened thus : While caracoling to recall the troops For the third charge, a baud of fugitives Bore me with them, close by the hostile ranks: I was in peril — capture, sudden death ! — When I thought of the good expedient To loosen and let fall the scarf which told My military rank; thus I contrived — Without attention waked — to leave the foes. And suddenly returning, reinforced With ray own rnen, to scatter them ! And-now, — What say you. Sir? \_Tlie Cadets pretend not to he listening , hut the cards and the dice-hoxes remain sus- pended in their hafids, the smoke of their pipes in their cheeks. They wait.'\ Cyrano. I say, that Henri Quatre Had not, by any dangerous odds, been forced To strip himself of his white helmet plume. ^Silent delight. The cards fall, the dice rattle. The smoke is p2iffed.'\ De Guiche. The ruse succeeded, though! [Same suspension of play, etc.} 234 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Oh, may be! But One does not lightly abdicate the honor To serve as target to the enemy. [Cards, dice, fall again, and the Cadets smoJce with evident delight.] Had I been present when your scarf fell low, ■ — Our courage, Sir, is of a different sort — I would have picked it up and put it on. De Gdiche. Oh, ay! Another Gascon boast! Cyrano. A boast? Lend it to me. I pledge myself, to-night, — With it across my breast, — to lead th' assault. De Guiche. Another Gascon vaunt! You know the scarf Lies with the enemy, upon the brink Of the stream, . . . the place is riddled now with shot, — No one can fetch it hither! Cyrano [draiving the scarf from his pocket, and holding it out to hirti]. Here it is. [Silence. The Cadets stifle their laughter in their cards and dice-boxes. De Guiche turns and CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 225 looks at them; they instantly become grave, and set to play. One of them whistles indif- ferently the air just played by theffer.'\ De Guiche [taking the scarf]. I thank you. It will now enable me To make a signal, — that 1 had forborne To make — till now. [//(? goes to the rampart, climbs it, and waves the scarf thrice. ] All. What's that? The Sentinel l^from the top of the rampart']. See you yon man Down there, who runs? . . . De Guiche [descending]. 'Tis a false Spanish spy Who is extremely useful to my ends. The news he carries to the enemy Are those I prompt him with — so, in a word. We have an influence on their decisions! Cyrano. Scoundrel! De Guiche [carelessly knotting on his scarf]. 'Tis opportune. What were we saying? Ah! I have news for you. Last evening 226 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. — To victual us — tbo Marshal did attempt A final effort : — secretly he went To Dourlens, where the King's provisions be. But — to return to camp more easily — He took with him a goodly force of troops. Those who attacked us now would have fine sport! Half of the army's absent from the camp! Carbon. Ay, if the Spaniards knew, 'twere ill for us. But they know nothing of it? De Guiche. Oh ! they know. They will attack us. Carbon. Ah! De Guiche. For my false spy Came to warn me of their attack. He said, "I can decide the point for their assault; "Where would you have it? I will tell them 'tis The least defended — they'll attempt you there." I anwered, "Good. Go out of camp, but watch My signal. Choose the point from whence it comes." Carbon [to Cadets.] Make ready ! [All rise; sounds of sivtrrds and belts being buckled.'] CYRANO DE BERGKRAC. 237 De Guiche. 'Twill be in an hour. First Cadet. Good! . . . [ They all sit down again and take up their games. ] De Guiche [to Carbon]. Time must be gained. The Marshal will return. Carbon. How gain it? De Guiche. You will all be good enough To let yourselves be killed. Cyrano Vengeance! oho! De Guiche. I do not say that, if I loved you well, I had chosen you and yours, — but, as things stand, — Your courage yielding to no corps the palm — I serve my King, and serve my grudge as well. Cyrano. Permit that I express my gratitude. . . . De Guiche. I know .vou love to fight against five score; You will not now complain of paltry odds. [He goes up with Carbon. ] Cyrano [to Cadets]. We shall add to the Gascon coat of arras. 228 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. "With its six bars of blue antl gold, one more — The blood-red bar that was a-missing there! De Guiche speaks in a low voice with Carbon at the hack. Orders are given. Preparations go forxoard. Cyrano goes up to Christian, who stands with crossed arms.'] Cyrano [putting his hand on Christian's shoulder]. Christian ! Christian [shaking his head]. Roxane! Cyrano. Alas! Christian At least, I'd send My heart's farewell to her in a fair letter! . . . Cyrano. I had suspicion it would be to-day, [He drauis a letter out of his doublet.] And had already writ . . . Christian. Show! Cyrano. Will you ... ? Christian [taking the letter]. Ayl [He opens and reads it.] Hold! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 229 Cyrano. What? Christian. This little spot! Cyrano [taking the letter, with an innocent look']. A spot? Christian, A tear! Cyrano. Poets, at last, — by dint of counterfeiting — Take counterfeit for true — that is the charm! This farewell letter, — it was passing sad, I wept myself in writing it! Christian. Wept? why? Cyrano. Oh ! . . . death itself is hardly terrible, . . . — But, ne'er to see her more! That is death's sting! — For ... I shall never . . . [Christian looks at him.'] We shall . . . [Quickly.] I mean, you . . . Christian [snatching the letter from him]. Give me that letter! [A rumor, far off in the camp.] 230 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Voice ok Sentinel. Who goes there? Halloo! [Shots — voices — carriage-belh.] Carbon. What is it? A Sentinel [on the rampart^. 'Tis a carriage! [All rui^h to see.l Cries. In the carap? It enters! — It comes from the eneiny.' — Fire! — No! — The coachman cries! — What does he say? • — "On the King's service!" [Everyone is on the ramj^art, staring. The bells come nearer. ] De Guiche. The King's service? How? [All descend and draw up in line. ] Carbon. Uncover, all! De Guiche. The King's! Draw up in line! Let him describe his curve as it befits! [The carriage enters at full speed covered with dust and mud. The cuiiains are drawn close. Two lackeys behind. It is pulled up suddenly. 1 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 231 Carbon, Beat a salute ! [A roll of drums. The Cadets uncover.'] De Guiche. Lower the carriage-steps! [Two Cadets rush forward. The door opens.] ROXANE [jumping down from the carriage]. Good-day! [All are bowing to the ground, hut at the sound of a woman's voice every head is instantly liaised.] SCENE V. The Same. Roxane. De Gciche. On the King's service! You? RoXANE. Ay, — King Love's! What other king? Cyrano. Great God! Christian [rushing fornvard]. "Why have you come? Roxane. This siege — 'tis too long! Christian. But why? . . . Roxane I will tell you all! 232 CYRANO D£ BERGERAC. Cyrano [who, at (he sound of her voice, has stood still, rooitd to the ground, afraid to raise his eyes^. My God! dare I look at her? De Guiche. You cannot remain here! ROXANE [merri7?/]. But I say yes! Who Tvill push a drum hither for me? [S/ie sweats herself on the drum they roll forward.'] So! I thank j'ou. \^She laughs.'] My carriage was fired at [j)roitdly] by tho patrol! Look! would j'ou not think 'twas made of a pumpkin, like Cinderella's chariot in the tale, — and the footmen out of rats? [Sending a kiss with her lips to Chuistian. ] Good-morrow! I Examining them all.] You look not merry, any of you! Ah! know you that 'tis a long road to get to Arras? [Seeing Cyeano.] Cousin, delighted! Cyrano [coming up to her]. But how, in Heaven's name? . . . ROXANE. How found I the way to the army? It was sim- ple enough, for I had but to pass on and on, as far as I saw the country laid waste. Ah, -svliat horrors were there! Had I not seen, then I could CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 333 Dever have believed it! Well, gentlemen, if such be the service of your King, I would fainer serve mine! Cyrano. But 'tis sheer madness! "Where in the fiend's name did you get through? ROXANE. Where? Through the Spanish lines. First Cadet. — For subtle craft, give me a woman ! De Guiche. But how did you pass through their lines? Le Bret. Faith! that must have been a hard matter! . . Roxane None too hard. I but drove quietly forward in my carriage, and when some hidalgo of haughty mien would have stayed me, lo! I showed at the window my sweetest smile, and these Seiiors being (with no disrespect to you) the most gallant gentlemen in the world, — I passed on! Carbon. True, that smile is a passport! But you must have been asked frequently to give an account of where you were going, Madame? Roxane. Yes, frequently. Then I would answer, "I go to see my lover. " At that word the very fiercest 234 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Spaniard of tliein all would gravely shut the car- riage-door, aud, with a gesture that a king might envy, make signal to his men to lower the muskets leveled at me; — then, with melancholy but withal very graceful dignity — his beaver held to the wind that the plumes might flutter bravely, he would bow low, saying to me, "Pass on, Senorita!" Christian. But, Eoxane . . . ROXANE. Forgive me that I said, "my lover!" But bethink you, had I said "my husband," not one of them had let me pass! Christian. But . . . ROXANE. "What ails you? De Guiche. You must leave this place! ROXANE. I? Cyrano. And that instantly! Le Bret. No time to lose. Christian. Indeed, you must. ROXANE. But wherefore must I? CYRANO DE BERGKRAC. 235 Christian [embarrassedl. 'Tis that . . . Cyrano. [the samel. — In three quarters of an hour . . , De Guiche — Or for . . It were best. You might . [the sarne]. Carbon [the same^. Le Bret [the samel. ROXANE. You are going to fight? — I stay here. All. No, no! Eoxane. He is my husband! [She throws herself into Christian's arms.^ They shall kill us both to- gether! Christian. "VVhj' do you look at me thus? Koxane. I will tell you why ! De Guiche [in despairl. 'Tis a post of mortal danger I 236 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ROXANE [turning rou7id'\. Mortal danger? Cyrano. Proof enough, that he has put us here! ROXANE [/o De Guiche]. So, Sir, you would have made a widow of me? De Guiche. Nay, on my oath . . . ROXANE. I will not go! I am reckless now, and I shall not stir from here! — Besides, 'tis amusing! Cyrano. Oh-ho! So our precieuse is a heroine! ROXANE. Monsieur de Bergerae, I am your cousin. A Cadet. We will defend you well! ROXANE [?7iore and more excited']. I have no fear of that, mj' friends! Another [in ecstasy]. The whole camp smells sweet of orris-root! ROXANE. And, by good luck, I have chosen a hat that will suit well with the battlefield! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 237 \^Looking at De Guiche.] But were it not wisest that the Count retire? They may begin the attack. De Guiche, That is not to be brooked! I go to inspect the cannon, and shall return. You have still time — think better of it! EOXANE. Never ! [De Guiche goes out.'] SCENE VI. The Same, all hut De Guiche. Christian [entreatinghj]. ROXANE. First Cadet \to the others\. Eoxane ! No! She stays! All [hurrying, hustling each other, tidying themselves]. A comb! — Soap! — My uniform is torn! — ^A needle! — A ribbon! — Lend your mirror! — My cuffs! — "Your curling-iron ! — A razor! . . . ROXANE [to Cyrano, who still j^leads with her]. No! Naught shall make me stir from this spot! 238 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Carbon [icho, like the others, has been buckling, dusting, brushing his hat, settling his plume, and drawing on his cuffs, advances to Roxane, ayid ceremonioushj']. It is perchance more seemly, since things r»re thus, that I present to you some of these gentle- men who are about to have the honor of dying before your ej'es. [Roxane bows, and stands leaning on Christian's arm, while Carbon introduces the Cadets to her.'] Baron de Peyrescous de Colignac! The Cadet \^vith a loio reverence], Madame . . . Carbon [contiyiuing]. Baron de Casterac de Cahuzac, — Vidame de Malgou.yre Estrcssac Leabas d'Escarabiot, Cheva- lier d'Antiguac — Juzet, Baron Hillot de Blagnac ' — Salechan de Castel Crabioules . . . Roxane. But how many names have you each? Baron Hillot. Scores! Carbon [to Roxane]. Pray, open the hand that holds your kerchief. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 239 ROXANE. [opens her hand, and the handkerchief falls]. Why? [The whole company start forward to pick it up.] Carbon [quickly raimng it]. My company had no flag. But now, by ray faith, they will have the fairest in all the camp! ROXANE [smiling. ] 'Tis somewhat small. Carbon [tying the handkerchief on the staff of his lance]. But — 'tis of lace! A Cadet [to the rest]. I could die happy, having seen so sweet a face, if I had something in my stomach — were it but a nut! Carbon who has overheard, indignantly]. Shame on you! What, talk of eating when a lovely woman! . . . ROXANE. But your camp air is keen; I myself am fam- ished. Pasties, cold fricassee, old wines — there is my bill of fare? Pray bring it all here. [ Consternation. ] 240 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. A Cadet. All that? Another. But where on earth find it? EOXANE. [quietly}. In my carriage. All. How? EOXANE. Now serve up — carve ! Look a little closer at my coachman, gentlemen, and you will recognize a man most welcome. All the sauces can be sent to table hot, if we will! The Cadets [rushing pellmell to the carriage]. 'Tis Eagueneau! [Acclamations.] Oh, oh! ROXANE [looking after them]. Poor fellows ! Cyrano [kissing her hand]. Kind fairy! Ragueneau [standing on the box like a quack doctor at a fair]. Gentlemen! . . . [ General delight. ] The Cadets. Bravo! bravo! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 241 Eagueneau. . . . The Spaniards, gazing on a lady so dainty fair, overlooked the fare so dainty! . . . [Apjylause.'] Cyrano [m a whisper to Christian]. Hark, Christian! Ragueneau. . . . And, occupied with gallantry, perceived not — \^He draws a plate from under the seat, and holds it up.] — The galantine! . . . [Applause. The galantine passes from hand to hand.] Cyrano [still whispering to Christian]. Pry thee, one word! Eagueneau, And Venus so attr .cted their eyes that Diana could secretly pass by with — [He holds up a shoulder of mutton] — her fawn! [Enthusiasm. Tiventy hands are held out to seize the shoulder of mutton.] Cyrano [in a lower xchispjer to Christian]. I must speak to you! 243 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ROXANE [to the Cadets, who come down, their ai-77is laden with food]. Put it all on the ground! ' [She lai/!:i all out on the gi^ass, aided by the two im- perturbable lackeijs icho icere behind the carriage.] RoXANE [to Christian, just as Cyrano is drawing him apart]. Come, make yourself of use! [Christian comes to help her. Cyrano's uneasiness increases. ] Eagueneau. Ti'uffled peacock ! First Cadet [7'adianf, coming down, cutting a big slice of nam]. By the mass! We shall not brave the last hazard without having had a gullet-full! — [quickly correcting himself on seeing Eoxane] — Pardon ! a Balthazar feast ! Ragueneau [thi'owing doivn the carriage cushions]. The cushions are stuffed with ortolans! [Hid)bub. They tear open and turn out the con- tents of the cushions. Buists of laughter — mer7'iment. Ragueneau [tin-owing dou-n to the Cadets bottles of red wine]. Flasks of rubies! — [and white luine] — Flasks of topaz! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 243 ROXANE [throwing a folded tablecloth at Cyrano's head]. Unfold me that napkin! — Come, come! be nimble! Kagueneau [leaving a lantern']. Each of the carriage-lamps is a little larder! Cyrano [in a low voice to Christian, as they arrange the cloth together]. I must speak with you ere you speak to her. Ragueneau. My whip-handle is an Aries sausage! EOXANE [pouring out wine, helping]. Since we are to die, let the rest of the army shift for itself. All for the Gascons! And mark! if De Guiche comes, let no one invite him! [Going from one to the other.] There! there! You have time enough! Do not eat too fast! — Drink a little. — Why are you crying? First Cadet. It is all 80 good ! . . . KOXANE Tut! — Eed or white? — Some bread for Mon- sieur de Carbon! — a knife! Pass your plate! — a 244: CYRANO DE BERGERAC. little of the crust? Some more? Let me help you! — Some champagne? — A wing? Cyrano [who follows her, his arms laden with dishes, help- ing her to wait on everybody^. How I worship her! KOXANE [going up to Christian]. What will you? Christian. Nothing. EOXANE. Nay, nay, take this biscuit, steeped in muscat; come! . . . but two drops! Christian [trying to detain her^. Oh! tell me why you came? EoXANE. Wait; my first duty is to these poor fellows. — Hush ! In a few minutes . . . Le Bret [who had gone up to pass a loaf on the end of a lance to the sentry on the rampai't]. De Guiche! Cyrano. Quick! hide flasks, plates, pie-dishes, game- baskets! Hurry! — Let us all look unconscious! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 245 [to Eagueneau.] up on your seat! — Is everything covered up? [In an instant all has been pushed into the tents, or hidden under doublets, cloaks, and beavers. De Guiche enters hurriedly — stops suddenly, sniffing the air. Silence.] SCENE VII. TTie Same. De Guiche. De Guiche. It smells good here. A Cadet [humming]. Lo! lo-lo! De Guiche [looking at him], "What is the matter? — You are very red! The Cadet. The matter? — Nothing! — 'Tis my blood— boil- ing at the thought of the coming battle! Anotheb. Poum, poum — poum . . . De Guiche [turning round]. What's that? 246 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Cadet [sUghtly drimk'\. Nothing! . . . 'Tis a song!— a little . . . De Guiche. You are merrj', my friend! The Cadet. The approach of danger is intoxicating! De Guiche. [calling Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, to give him an order~\. Captain f I . . . [He stops short on seeing him. ] Plague take me! but you look bravely, too! Carbon [crimson in the face, hiding a bottle behind his back, with an evasive movement]. Oh! . . . De Guiche. I have one cannon leift, and have had it carried there — [he points behind the scenes) — in that cor- ner . . . Your men can use it in case of need. A Cadet [reeling slightly']. Charming attention ! Another [ivith a gracious smile]. Kind solicitude! De Guiche. How? they are all gone crazy? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 247 [Drily.] As you are not used to cannon, beware of the recoil. First Cadet. Pooh! De Guiche [furious, going up to him]. But . . . The Cadet. Gascon cannons never recoil! De Guiche. [taking him by the arm and shaking him]. You are tipsy! — but what with? The Cadet [grandiloquently], — With the smell of powder! De Guiche [shrugging his shouldei's and pushing him aicay, then going quickly to Eoxake]. Briefly, Madame, what decision do you deign to take? Roxane. I stay here. De Guiche. You must fly! Roxane No ! I will stay. De Guiche. Since things are thus, give me a musket, one of vou! 248 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Carbon. "Wherefore ? De Guiche. Because I too — mean to remain. Cyrano. At last! This is true valor, Sir! First Cadet. Then you are Gascon after all, spite of your lace collar? ROXANE. What is all this? De Guiche. I leave no woman in peril. Second Cadet [to the First]. Hark you! Think you not we might give him something to eat? [All the viands reappear as if by magic.l De Guiche. [whose eyes sparkle]. Victuals! The Third Cadet. Yes, you'll see them coming from under every coat! De Guiche [controlling himself, haughtily]. Do you think I will eat your leavings? Cyrano [saluting him]. You make progress. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 249 De Guiche [p7'0udly, with a light touch of accent on the word " breaking "]. I will light without br-r-eaking my fasti First Cadet [wild with delight]. Br-r-r-eaking ! He has got the accent! De Guiche [laughingl. I? The Cadet. 'Tis a Gascon ! [All begin to dance.] Carbon de Castel-Jaloux [who had disappeared behind the ranipart, reappear- ing on the ridge']. I have drawn my pikemen up in line. They are a resolute troop. [He points to a row of pikes, the tops of which are seen over the ridge.] De Guiche. [bowing to Eoxane]. "Will you accept my hand, and accompany me while I review them? [She takes it, and they go up toward the rampart. All uncover and follow them.] Christian [going to Cyrano, eagerly]. Tell me quickly! 250 CYRANO DE BEKGERAC. [As RoxANE appears on the ridge, the tops of the lances disappear, lowered for the salute, and a shout is raised. She boivs.] The Pikemen [outsidel. Vivat! Christian. What is this secret? Cyrano. If Roxane should . . . Christian. Should? . . . Cyrano. Speak of the letters? . . . Christian. Yes! I know! . . . Cyrano. Do not spoil all by seeming surprised . . . Christian. At what? Cyrano. I must explain to you! ... Oh! 'tis no fjcreat matter — I but thought of it to-day on see- ing her. You have . . . Christian. Tell quickly! Cyrano. You have . . . written to her oftener than you think . . . CYRANO DE BERGKRAC. 25l Christian. How so? Cybano. Thus, 'faith! I had taken it in hand to express your flame for you! ... At times I wrote with- out saying, "I am writing!" Christian. Ah! . . . Cyrano. 'Tis simple enough! Christian. But how did you contrive, since we have been cut off, thus . . . to? . . . Cyrano. ... Oh! before dawn ... I was able to get through ... Christian [folding his arms]. That was simple, too? And how oft, pray you, have I written? . . . Twice in the week? . . . Three times? . . . Four? . . . Cyrano. More often still. Christian. What! Every day? Cyrano. Yes, every day, — twice. Christian. \_violently]. And that became so mad a joy for you, that you braved death . . . 252 CYRANO DE BERCERAC. Cyrano [seeing Roxane returning']. Hush! Not before her! [He goes hurriedly into his tent. ] SCENE VIII. EoxANE, Christian. In the distance Cadets coming and going. Carbon and De Guiche give oj^ders.] Roxane [running up to Christian]. Ah, Christian, at last! . , . Christian [taking her hands']. Now tell me why — Why, by these fearful paths so perilous — ■ Across these ranks of ribald soldiery. You have come? Roxane. Love, your letters brought me here! Christian. "What say you? Roxane. 'Tis your fault if I ran risks! Your letters turned my head! Ah! all this month. How many ! — and the last one ever bettered The one that went before! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 253 Christian, What! — for a few Inconsequent love-letters! ROXANE. Hold your peace! Ah! you cannot conceive it! Ever since That night, when, in a voice all new to me. Under my window you revealed your soul — ■ Ah! ever since I have adored you! Now Your letters all this whole month long! — me- seemed As if I heard that voice so tender, true. Sheltering, close! Thy fault, I say! It drew me. The voice o' th' night! Oh! wise Penelope "Would ne'er have stayed to broider on her hearthstone, ^ If her Ulysses could have writ such letters! But would have cast away her silken bobbins. And fled to join him, mad for love as Helen I Christian. But . . . ROXANE. I read, read again — grew faint for love ; I was thine utterly. Each separate page Was like a fluttering flower-petal, loosed From your own soul, and wafted thus to mine. Imprinted in each burning word was love Sincere, all-powerful . . . 854 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Christian. Can that be felt, Eoxane? KOXANE. A love sincere! Ay, that it can ! Christian. You come . . . ? KOXANE, O Christian, my true lord, I come — < (Were I to throw myself, here, at your knees, You would raise me — but 'tis my soul I lay At your feet — you can raise it nevermore!) — I come to crave your pardon. (Ay, 'tis time To sue for pardon, now that death may come!) For the insult done to you when, frivolous. At first I loved you only for your face! Cristian [horror-stricken']. Eoxane! EOXANE. And later, love — less frivolous — Like a bird that spreads its wings, but can not fly- Arrested by your beauty, by your soul Drawn close — I loved for both at once ! Christian. And now? ■Roxane. Ah! you yourself have triumphed o'er yourself, And DOW, I love yon only for your sonjl CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 255 Christian [stepping backward], Boxane ! KOXANE. Be happy. To be loved for beauty — A poor disguise that time so soon wears thread- bare — Must be to noble souls — to souls aspiring — A torture. Your dear thoughts have now effaced That beauty that so won me at the outset. Now I see clearer — and I no more see it! Christian. Oh! . . . ROXANE. You are doubtful of such victory ? Christian I pained], Boxane! RoXANE. I see you cannot yet believe it. Such love . . . ? Christian. I do not ask such love as that! I would be loved more simply; for . . . ROXANE. For that "Which they have all in turns loved in thee?— Shame ! Oh I be loved henceforth in a better way I 256 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Christian. No! the first love was best! ROXANE. Ah! how you err! 'Tis now that I love best — love well! 'Tis that Which is thy true self, see! — that I adore! Were your brilliance dimmed . . . Christian. Hush! RoXANE. I should love still I Ay, if your beauty should to-day depart . . . Christun. Say not sol RoXANE. Ay, I say it ! Christian. Ugly? How? RoXANE. Ugly! I swear I'd love you still! Christian. My God I ROXANB. Are you content at last? Christian [in a choked voice"}. Ayl . . . ROXANE. What is wrong? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 257 Christun [gently pushing her away]. Nothing. ... I have two words to saj' : — one second . . . KOXANE. But? . . . Christian [ pointing to the Cadets]. Those poor fellows, shortly doomed to death, — My love deprives them of the sight of you: Go, — speak to them — smile on them ere they die I KoXANE [deeply affeciedl. Dear Christian! . . . [She goes up to the Cadets, Mho respectfully crowd round her.] SCENE IX. Christian, Cyrano. At hack Eoxane talking to Carbon and some Cadets. Christian [calling toward Cyrano's tent], Cyrano! Cyrano [reappearing, fully armed]. What? Why so pale? . Christian. She does not love me I 258 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyuano. What? Christian. 'Tis you she loves! Cyrano. No! Christian. — For she loves me only for my soul! Cyrano. Truly? Christian. Yes! Thus — you see, that soul is 3'ou, . . . Therefore, 'tis you she loves! — And you — love her! Cyrano. I? Oh, I know it! Christian. Cyrano. Ay, 'tis true! Christian. You love To madness! Cyrano. Ay! and worse! Christian. Then tell ber sq{ Cyrano, No! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 259 Christian. And whj' not? Cyrano. Look at ray face! — be answered 1 ' Christian. She'd love me — were I ugly. Cyrano. Said she so? Christian. Ay! in those words! Cyrano. I'm glad she told you that! But pooh! — believe it not! I am well pleased She thought to tell you. Take it not for truth. Never grow ugly: — she'd reproach me then! Christian. That I intend discovering! Cyrano. No! I begl Christian. Ay! she shall choose between us! — Tell her all I Cyrano. No! no! I will not have it! Spare me this! Christian. Because my face is haply fair, shall I Destroy your happiness? 'Twere too unjust! Cyrano. And I, — because by Nature's freak I have 260 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The gift to say — all that perchance you feel. Shall I be fatal to your happiness? Christian. Tellalll Cyrano. It is ill done to tempt me thus! Christian. Too long I've borne about within myself A rival to myself — I'll make an end! Cyrano. Christian! Christian. Or union, without witness — secret- Clandestine — can be easily dissolved If we survive. Cyrano. My God! — he still persists! Christian. I will be loved myself — or not at all! — I'll go see what they do — there, at the end Of the post: speak to her, and then let her choose One of us two! Cyrano. It will be you! Christian. Pray God! [He calls. ] Boxane! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 361 Cyrano. No! no! KOXANE Icoming up quickly]. What? Christun. Cyrano has things Important for your ear. . . . [She hastens to Cyrano. Christian goes out]. SCENE X. EoxANE, Cyrano. Then Le Bret, Carbon de Castel- Jaloux, the Cadets, Eagueneau, De Guiche, etc. EoXANE. Important, how? Cyrano [in despair. To Roxane]. He's gone! 'Tis naught! — Oh, you know how he sees Importance in a trifle! EoXANE [warmly]. Did he doubt Of what I said? — Ah, yes, I saw he doubted! Cyrano [talcing her hand]. But are you sure you told him all the truth? Ugly! 262 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ROXANE. Yes, I would love him were he . . . [She hesitates.^ Cykano. Does that word Embarrass you before my face, Koxane ? EOXANE. I . . . Cyrako. [smiling sadly]. 'Twill not hurt me! Say it! If he were RoXANE. Yes, ugly! [3Iusket report outside. ] Hark! I hear a shot I Cyrano [ardentlyj. Hideous! RoXANE. Hideous! yes! Cyrano. Disfigured. RoXANE. Ayl Cyrano. Grotesque? RoXANE, He could not be grotesque to mel CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 263 Cyrano. You'd love the same? . . . EOXANE. The same — nay, even more! Cyrano [losing command over himself — aside]. My God! it's true, perchance, love waits me there ! [To EoXANE.] I . . . Eoxane . . . listen . . . Le Bret [entering hurriedly — to Cyrano]. Cyrano ! Cyrano [turning round]. What? Le Bret. Hush ! [He whispers something to him,,] Cyrano. [letting go Roxane's hand and exclaiming.] Ah, Godl EoXANE. What is it? Cyrano [to himself — stunned]. All is over now. [Renewed reports.] 264: CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ROXANE. What is the mattei"? Hark! another shoti [She goes up to look outside. J Cykano. It is too late, now I can never tell ! RoXANE. [trtjing to rush ouf]. What has chanced? Cyrano. [rushing to stop her]. Nothing! [Some Cadets enter, trying to hide something they are carrying, and close round it to prevent Roxane approaching. ] Roxane. And those men? Cyrano. [drawing her away]. Roxane. What were you just about to say before . . . ? Cyrano. What was I saying? Nothing now, I swearl [Solemnly.] Iswear that Christian's soul, his nature, were . . . [Hastily correcting himself.] Nay, that they are, the noblest, greatest . . , Roxane. Were? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 365 [ With a loud scream."] Oh! [she rushes up, pushing every one aside.] Cyrano. All is over now! ROXANE [seeing Christian lying on the ground, wrapped in his cloak]. O Christian! Le Bret. [to Cyrano]. Struck by first shot of the enemy ! [Eoxane flings herself down by Christian. Fresh reports of cannon — clash of arms — clamor — beating of drums. ] Carbon. [vnth sword in the air]. O come! Your muskets. [Followed by the Cadets, he passes to the other side of the ramparts. ] Boxane. Christian! The Voice of Carbon [from the other side]. Ho! make haste! ROXANE. Christian! Carbon. Form line! 266 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ROXANE. Christian! Carbon. Handle your match! [Eagueneau rushes up, bringing water in a helmet.'] Christian [in a dying voice]. Roxanel Cyrano [quickly, lohispering into Christian's ear, while Eoxane distractedly tears a piece of linen from his breast, ivhich she dips into the water, trying to stanch the bleeding]. I told her all. She loves you still. [Christian closes his eyes]. RoXANE. How, my sweet love ? Carbon. Draw ramrods/ RoXANE. [to Cyrano]. He is not dead? Carbon. Open your charges xoith your teeth! RoXANE. His cheek Grows cold against ray own ! Carbon. Ready! Present! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 267 ROXANE [seeing a letter in Christian's dovbletl. A letter ! . , . 'Tis for me I [She opens it.'] Cyrano [aside]. My letter! Carbon. Firef [Musket reports—shouts — noise of battle.'] Cyrano [trying to disengage his hand, which Roxank on her knees is holding]. But, Roxane, bark, they fight 1 RoXANE [detaining him]. Stay yet awhile. For he is dead. You knew him, you alone. [Weeping quietly.] Ah, was not his a beauteous soul, a soul Wondrous! Cyrano [standing up — bareheaded]. Ay, Roxane. Roxane. An inspired poet? 268 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Ay, Eoxane. KOXANE. And a mind sublime? Cyrano. Oh, yes I ROXANE A heart too deep for common minds to plumb, A spirit subtle, charming? Cyrano. [fir7nly]. Ay, Eoxane. Roxane \^ flinging herself on the dead lody^. Dead, my love! Cyrano [aside — drawing his sword]. Ay, and let me die to-day, Since, all unconscious, she mourns me — in him! [Sounds of trumpets in the distance.] De Guiche \appeari7ig on the ramparts — bareheaded — with a tuound on his forehead — in a voice of thimder]. It is the signal! Trumpet flourishes! The French bring the provisions into camp I Hold but the place awhile 1 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 269 EOXANE. See, there is blood Upon the letter — tears ! A Voice [ou tside — & A w tmg^ . Surrender! Voice of Cadets. No! Ragtjeneau {standing on the top of his carriage, loatches the battle over the edge of the ramparts]. The danger's ever greater! Cyrano [^0 De Gf-uiGR^— pointing to Roxane], I will charge! Take her away! EoXANE {kissing the letter — in a half-extinguished voice']. O God! his tears! his blood! . . . Kagueneau [jumping down from the carriage and rushing toivard her]. She's swooned away! De Guiche [on the rampart — to the Cadets — with fury]. Stand fast! A Voice [outside]. Lay down your armsl 270 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Cadets. No! Cyrano [to De Guiche]. Now that you have proved your valor. Sir, [Pointing to Koxane. ] Fly, and save her! De Guiche [rushing to Roxane, and carrying her away in his arms]. So be it! Gain but time. The victory's ours! Cyrano. Good. [Calling out to Roxane, irhom De Guiche, aided by Ragueneau, is bearing away in a faint- ing condition. ] Farewell, Roxane! [Tumult. Shouts. Cadets reappear, wounded^ falling on the scene. Cyrano, rushing to the battle, is stopped by Carbon de Castel- Jaloux, who is streaming with blood.^ Carbon. We are breaking! I am wounded — wounded twice ! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 271 Cyrano [shouting to the Gascons]. Gascons! Ho, Gascojis! Never turn your hachs! [To Carbon", whom he is snpporti7ig.'\ Have no fear! I have two deaths to avenge; My friend who's slain; — and my dead happiness! [They come doiun, Cykano brandishing the lance to ivhich is attached Roxane's hand- kerchief.'] Float there! laced kerchief broidered with her name! [He sticks it in the ground and shouts to the OadetsJ. Fall on them, Gascons! Crush them! [To the FiFER.] Fifer, play! [The fife plays. The wounded try to rise. Some Cai)i:.ts, fallijig one over the other doivn the slope, group themselves round Cyrano and the little flag. The carriage is crowded with men inside and outside, and, bristling with arquebuses, is ticrned into a fortress.^ A Cadet [appearing on the crest, beaten backward, but still Ughtiiig, cries] They're climbing the redoubt! [and falls dead.] 27'Z CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano. Let us salute them I [The rainpart is covered instantly by a formid- able row of enemies. The standards of the Imperialists are raised.'\ Fire! [General discharge.^ A Cry in the Enemy's Ranks. Fire! [A deadly a7isweri7ig volley. The Cadets fall on all sides.] A Spanish Officer [tcncovering]. "Who are these men who rush on death? Cyrano [reciting, erect, a7nid a stoi'm of bullets]. The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux! Brawling, swaggering boastfully, [He rushes forivard, followed byafeiu survivors.] The bold Cadets . . . [His voice is drotvned in the battle.] Curtain. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 373 ACT V. Cyrano's Gazette. Fifteen years later, in 1655. Park of the Sisters of the Holy Cross in Paris. Magnificent trees. On the left the house ; broad steps on to which open several doors. An enor- mous plane tree in the middle of the stage, standing alone. On the right, among big boxwood trees, a semicircular stone bench. The whole background of the stage is crossed by an alley of chestnut trees leading on the right hand to the door of a chapel seen through the branches. Through the double row of trees of this alley are seen lawns, other alleys, clusters of trees, winding of the park, the sky. The chapel opens by a little side door on to a colonnade which is wreathed with autumn leaves, and is lost to view a little farther on in the right-hand foreground behind the boxwood. It is autumn. All the foliage is red against the fresh green of the lawns. The green box- wood and yews stand out dark. 27i CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Under each tree a patch of j-ellow leaves. The stage is strewn with dead leaves, which rustle under foot in the alleys, and half cover the steps and benches. Between the benches on the right hand and the tree a large embroidery frame, in front of which a little cbair has been set. Baskets full of skeins and balls of wool. A tapestry begun. At the rising of the curtains nuns are walking to and fro in the park ; some are seated on the bench around an older Sister. The leaves are falling. SCENE I. Mother Marguerite, Sister Martha, Sister Claire, other Sisters. Sister Martha \to Mother Marguerite]. Sister Claire glanced in the mirror, once — nay, twice, to see if her coif suited. Mother Marguerite [to Sister Claire]. 'Tis not well. Sister Claire. But I saw Sister Marthp, take a plum Out of the tart. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 2T5 Mother Marguerite [to Sister Martha], That was ill done, my sister. Sister Claire. A little glance! Sister Martha. And such a little plum! Mother Marguerite. I shall tell this to Monsieur Cyrano. Sister Claire. Nay, prithee do not! — he will mock! Sister Martha. He'll say We nuns are vain ! Sister Claire. And greedy! Mother Marguerite [smiliyig]. Ay, and kind! Sister Claire. Is it not true, pray, Mother Marguerite, That he has come, each week, on Saturday For ten years, to the convent? Mother Marguerite. Ay! and morel Ever since — fourteen years ago — the day His cousin brought here, 'midst our woolen coifs. The worldly mourning of her widow's veil. Like a blackbird's wing among the convent doves I 276 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Sister Martha. He only has the skill to turn her mind From grief — unsoftened yet by Time — unhealed I All the Sisters. He is so droll! — It's cheerful when he comes! — • He teases us! — But we all like him well! — — We make him pasties of angelica! Sister Martha. But, he is not a faithful Catholic! Sister Claire. We will convert him ! The Sisters. Yes! Yes I Mother Marguerite. I forbid. My daughters, you attempt that subject. Nay, Weary him not — he might less oft come here! Sister Martha. But . . . God . . . Mother Marguerite, Nay, never fear! God knows him well I Sister Martha. But — every Saturday, when he arrives. He tells me, "Sister, I eat meat on Friday!" Mother Marguerite. Ah! says he so? Well, the last time he came Food had not passed his lips for two whole days! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 3'}'7 SiSTEB Martha. Mother! Mother Marguerite, He's poor. Sister Martha. "Who told you so, dear Mother? Mother Marguerite. Moiisieur le Bret. Sister Martha. None help him? Mother Marguerite. He permits not. [in an alley at the back Roxane appears, dressed in black, vnth a widow's coif and veil. De Guiche, imposing -looking and visibly aged, walks by her side. They saunter slowly. Mother Marguerite rises. ] *Tis time we go in; Madame Madeleine Walks in the garden with a visitor. Sister Martha. Ito Sister Claire, in a low voice'\. The Marshal of Grammout? Sister Claire [looking at hini]. 'Tis he, I think. Sister Martha. 'Tis many months now since he came to see her. 378 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. The Sisters. He is so busy I — The Court, — the camp! . , . Sister Claire. The world! [They go out. De Guiche and Roxane come for- ward in silence, and stop close to the embroidery frame.l SCENE IL Koxane ; the Duke de Grammont, formerly Count de Guiche. Then Le Bret and Ragueneau. The Duke. And you stay here still — ever vainly fair. Ever in weeds? Roxane. Ever. The Duke. Still faithful? Roxane. Still. The Duke [after apausel. Am I forgiven? Roxane Ay, since I am here. [Another pause. ] The Duke. His was a soul, you say ? . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 279 ROXANE. Ah ! — when you knew him ! The Duke. Ah, may be! ... I, perchance, too little knew him! . . . And his last letter, ever next your heart? JROXANE. Hung from this chain, a gentle scapulary. The Duke. And, dead, you love him still? EOXANE. At times, — meseems He is but partly dead — our hearts still speak. As if his love, still living, wrapped me round I The Duke [^after another pause], Cyrano comes to see you? ROXANE. Often, ay. Dear, kind old friend! We call him my "Gazette." He never fails to come: beneath this tree They place his chair, if it be fine : — I wait, I broider; — the clock strikes; — at the last stroke I hear, — for now I never turn to look — Too sure to hear his cane tap down the steps; He seats himself : — with gentle raillery 280 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. He mocks my tapestry that's never done; He tells me all the gossip of the week . . * [Le Bret ajjpears on the steps.1 Why, here's Le Bret! [Le Bret descends.] How goes it with our friend? Le Bret. Ill I — very ill. Tbe Duke. How? ROXANE [to the Duke]. He exaggerates! Le Bret. All that I prophesied: desertion, want! . . . His letters now make him fresh enemies! — Attacking the sham nobles, sham devout. Sham brave, — the thieving authors, — all the world ! RoXANE. Ah! but his sword still holds them all in check; None get the better of him. The Duke [^shaking his head]. Time will show I Le Bret. Ah, but I fear for him — not man's attack, — Solitude — hunger — cold December days. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 281 That wolf-like steal into his chamber drear: — Lo! the assassins that I fear for him! Each day he tightens by one hole his belt: That poor nose — tinted like old ivory: He has retained one shabby suit of serge. The Duke. Ay, there is one who has no prize of Fortune! — Yet is not to be pitied! Le Bret [with a bitter smilel. My Lord Marshal I . . . The Duke. Pity him not! He has lived out his vows. Free in his thoughts, as in his actions free! Le Bret [in the same tone]. My Lord ! . . . The Duke [haughtilyl. True! I have all, and he has naught; . . . Yet I were proud to take his hand! IBowing to Eoxane.] Adieu! Eoxane. I go with you. [The Duke bows to Le Bret, and goes with Eoxane toward the steps.^ 282 CYRANO DE BEKGERAC. The Duke [pausing, while she goes ?(p]. Ay, true, — I envy him. Look 3'ou, "when life is brimful of success — Though the past hold no action foul — one feels A thousand self-disgusts, of which the sum Is not remorse, but a dim, vague unrest; And, as one mounts the steps of worldly fame. The Duke's furred mantles trail within their folds A sound of dead illusions, vain regrets, A rustles-scarce a whisper — like as when, Mounting the terrace steps, your mourning robe Sweeps in its train the dying autumn leaves. EOXANE [ironically]. Tou are pensive? The Duke, True! I am! [As he is going out, suddenly. 1 Monsieur Le Bret! [ To ROXANE. ] \ word, with your permission? [He goes to Le Bket, and in a low voice.] True, that none Dare to attack your friend ; — but many hate him ; Yesterday, at the Queen's card-play, 'twas said "That Cyrano mrxy die — by accident!" Let him stay in — be prudent! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 283 Le Bret [raising his arms to /leat'en]. Prudent! He! ... He's coming bere. I'll warn him — but! . . . ROXANE [who has stayed on the steps, to a Sister who comes toward her]. What is it? The Sister. Kagueneau would see you, Madame. Eoxane. Let him come. [ To the Duke and Le Bret. ] He comes to tell his troubles. Having been An author (save the mark!) — poor fellow — now By turns he's singer . . . Le Bret. Bathing-man . . . Eoxane. Then actor . . . Le Bret. Beadle . . Eoxane. Wig-maker ... Le Bret. Teacher of the lute . . . Eoxane. What will he be to-day, by chance? 284: CYRANO DE BERCERAC. Eagueneau [^entering hurriedly]. Ah! Madame! [He sees Le Bret.] Ah! you here, Sir! EOXANE. [smilingl. Tell all your miseries To him ; I will return anon. Kagueneau. But, Madame . . . [Koxane goes out with the Duke. He goes toward Le Bret.] SCENE III. Le Bret, Ragueneau. Kagueneau. Since you are here, 'tis best she should not know! I was going to your friend just now — was but A few steps from the house, when I saw him Go out. I hurried to him. Saw him turn The corner . . . suddenly, from out a window Where he was passing — was it chance? . . . may be! A lackey let fall a large piece of wood, Le Bret. Cowards! O Cyrano! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 285 Raguaneau. I ran — I saw . . . Le Bret. 'Tis hideous! Eagueneau. Saw our poet. Sir— our friend — Struck to the ground, — a large wound in his head! Le Beet. He's dead? Eagueneau. No — but — I bore him to his room . . . Ah! his room! What a thing to see! — that garret ! Le Bret. He suffers? Eagueneau. No; his consciousness has flown. Le Bret. Saw you a doctor? Eagueneau. One was kind — he came. Le Bret. My poor Cyrano! — "We must not tell this To Eoxane suddenly. — What said this leech? — ■ Eagueneau. Said, — what, I know not — fever, meningitis! — Ah ! could you see him — all his head bound up ! — 286 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. But Iftt US haste !^ — There's no one by his bed! — And if he try to rise, Sir, he might die! Kagueneau [dragging him toward the right]. Come! Through the chapel! 'Tis the quickesi: way! ROXANE. [appearing on the steps, and seeing Le Bret go away by the colonnade leading to the cJiapel door. ] Monsieur le Bret! [Le Bret and Ragueneau disappear ivUhont ansiver- ing]. Le Bret goes — when I call! 'Tis some new trouble of good Eagueneau's. [She descends the stejjs.] SCENE IV. EoxANE alone. Two Sisters, /or a moment. ROXANB. Ah! what a beauty in September's close! My sorrow's eased. April's joy dazzled it, But autumn Avins it with her dying calm. [She seats herself at the embroidery frame. Ttvo Sisters come out of the house, and bring a large armchair under the tree']. There comes the famous armchair where he sits, Dear faithful friend! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 387 Sister Martha. It is the parlor's best! EOXANE. Thanks, sister. [ TJie Sisters go. ] He'll be here now. [/SAe seats herself. A clock strikes. ] The hour strikes. — My silks? — ^Why, now, the hour's struck! How strange To be behind his time, at last, to-day! Perhaps the portress — where's my thimble? . . . Here! — Is preaching to him. [-4 pause. ] Yes, she must be preaching! Surely he must come soon! — Ah, a dead leaf! — \_She brushes off the leaf from her work."] Nothing, besides, could — scissors? — In my bag! — Could hinder him . . . A Sister [coming to the steps]. Monsieur de Bergerac. SCENE V. EoXANE [without turning round]. "What was I saying? ... * [She embroiders. Cyrano, very pale, his hat 288 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. pulled down over his eyes, appears. The SisTEU ivho had announced him retires. He descends (he steps sloivly, icith a visible diffi,- culty in holding himself upright, hearing heavily on his cane. Eoxane still works at her tapestry. J Time has dimmed the tints . . . How harmonize them now? [To Cykano, with playful reproach.'\ For the first time Late! — For the first time, all these fourteen years! Cyrano [who has succeeded in reaching the chair, and has seated himself — in a lively voice, which is in great contrast with his jmIc face \. Ay ! It is villainous ! I raged — was stayed . . . KOXANE. By? . . . Cyrano. By a bold, unwelcome visitor. Eoxane [absently, working^. Some creditor? Cyrano. Ay, cousin, — the last creditor Who has a debt to claim from me. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 289 EOXANE. And you Have paid it? Cyrano. No, not yet! I put it off; — Said, "Cry you mercy; this is Saturday, When I have got a standing rendezvous That naught defers. Call in an hour's time!" ROXANE [carelessly]. Oh, -well, a creditor can always wait! I shall not let you go ere twilight falls. Cyrano. Haply, perforce, I quit you ere it falls! [He shuts his eyes, and is silent for a moment. Sister Martha ci^osses the park from the chapel to the flight of steps. Eoxane, seeing her, signs to her to approach. ] Eoxane [to Cyrano]. How now? You have not teased the Sister? Cyrano [hastily opening his eyes']. True! [In a comically loud voice.] Sister! come here! 290 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. [ 77/ e Sister glides up to Mm.'] Ha! ba! What? Those bright eyes Beut ever on the ground? Sister Martha. \ivlio makes a movement of astonishment on seeing his face]. Oh! Cyrano \in a whisper, pointing to Roxane]. Hush! 'tis naught! — \ Loudly, in a blustering voice.] I broke fast yesterday ! Sister Martha [aside.] I know, I know! That's how he is so pale! Come presently To the refectory, I'll make you drink A famous bowl of soup . . . You'll come? Cyrano. Ay, ay! Sister Martha, There, see! You are more reasonable to-day! Roxane. [ivho hears tliem lohispering.] The Sister would convert you? Sister Martha. Nay, not I! Cyrano. Hold! but it's true! You preach to me no more, CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 291 You, once so glib with holy words! I am Astonished! . . . [ With burlesque fury.] Stay, I will surprise you too! Hark ! I permit you ... , [Be pretends to be seeking for something to tease her loith, and to have found, it.] ... It is something new! — To — pray for me, to-night, at chapel-time! KOXANE. Oh! oh! Cyrano [laughing]. Good Sister Martha is struck dumb! Sister Martha. [gently]. I did not wait your leave to pray for you. [She goes out.] Cyrano [turning to Roxane, who is still betiding over her ZVOJ'Jc] . That tapestry! Beshrew me if my eyes "Will ever see it finished! EOXANE. I was sure To hear that well-known jest! [A light breeze causes the leaves to fall]. 292 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cykano The autumn leaves! ROXANE. \Ufting her head, and Joohing doiun the disatnt alley']. Soft golden brown, like a Venetian's hair. — See how they fall! Cykano. Ay, see how brave they fall, In their last journey downward from the bough, To rot within the clay ; yet, lovely still. Hiding the horror of the last decay, With all the wayward grace of careless flight! RoXANE. What, melancholy — you? Cyrano. [collecting himself]. Nay, nay, Eoxane! EOXANE. Then let the dead leaves fall the way they will . . . And chat. What, have j^ou nothing new to tell, My Court Gazette? Cyrano. Listen. Eoxane. Ah! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 293 Cyrano. [growing whiter and whiter']. Saturday The nineteenth : having eaten to excess Of pear-conserve, the King felt feverish; The lancet quelled this treasonable revolt. And the august pulse beats at normal pace. At the Queen's ball on Sunday thirty score Of best white waxen tapers were consumed. Our troops, they say, have chased the Austrians. Four sorcerers were hanged. The little dog Of Madame d'Athis took a dose . . . EOXANE. Ibid You hold your tongue, Monsieur de Bergerac ! Cyrano. Monday — not much — Claire changed protector. ROXANE. Oh! Cyrano. [whose face changes more and more]. Tuesday, the Court repaired to Fontainebleau. V\^ednesday, the Montglat said to Comte de Fiesque . . . No! Thursday — Mancini, Queen of France {almost!) Friday, the Monglat to Count Fiesque said — "Yes!" 294 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. And Saturday the twenty-sixth ... [He closes his eyes. His head falls forward. Silence. ] EOXANE [surprised at his voice ceasing, turns round, looks at him, and rising, terrified']. He swoons! [She runs toioard him crying.~\ Cyrano ! Cyrano [opening his eyes, in an unconcerned voice~\. What is this? [He sees Roxane bending over him, and, hastily pressing his hat on his head, and shrinking back in his chair.] Nay, on my word *Tis nothing! Let me be! KOXANE. But . . . Cyrano. That old wound Of Arras, sometimes, — as you know . . . EoXANE. Dear friend ! Cyrano. 'Tis nothing, 'twill pass soon; [He smiles with an effort.'] See! — it has passed! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 295 KOXANE. Each of us baa his wound; ay, I have mine, — Never healed up — not healed yet, my old wound! iShe puts her hand on her breast. ] Tis here, beneath this letter brown with age. All stained with tear-drops, and still stained with blood. Twilight begins to fall. Cyrano. His letter! Ah! you promised me one day That I should read it. ROXANE, "What would you? — His letter? Cyrano. Yes, I would fain, — to-day . . . ROXANE [giving the bag hung at her nech\. See! here it is! Cyrano [taking it]. Have I your leave to open? ROXANE. Open — read ! [She comes lack to her tapestry frame, folds it up, soi'ts her wools.] 296 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano [reading] . "Eoxane, adieu! I soon must die! This very night, beloved; and I Feel my soul heavy with love untold. I die! No more, as in days of old. My loving, longiug eyes will feast On your least gesture — ay, the least! I mind me the waj' you touch your cheek With your finger, softb', as you speak! Ah me! I know that gesture well! My heart cries out! — I cry 'Farewell'!" ROXANE. But how you read that letter! One would think . . . Cyrano [cofitinuing to read]. "My life, my love, mj* jewel, my sweet. My heart has been yours in e\evy beat!" [T/ie shades of evening fall ivipercepliblg], ROXANE. You read in such a voice — so strange — and yet — It is not the first time I hear that voice! [She conies nearer very softly, without his perceiv- ing it, passes behind his chair, and, noim- lessly leaning over him, looks at the letter. The darkness deepens. ] CVRANO t>E BERGEkAC. SUt Cyrano . "Here, dying, and there, in the land on high, I am he who loved, who loves you, — I . . . " ROXANE [putting her hand on his shoulder]. How can you read? It is too dark to see! [He starts, turns, sees her close to him. Suddenly alarmed, he holds his head down. TJien m the dusk, which has now completely enfolded them, she says, very slowly, with clasj^ed hands.] And, fourteen years long, he has played this part Of the kind old friend who comes to laugh and chat! Cyrano. Eoxane ! Roxank. 'Twas you! Cyrano. No, never; Eoxane, no! KOXANE. I should have guessed, each time he said my name! Cyrano. No; it was not I! Hoxane. It was you! Cyrano. I swear! 298 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ROXANE. I see through all the generous couuterfeit — The letters — you! Cyrano. No. ROXANE. The sweet, mad love-words! You! Cyrano. No! ROXANE. The voice that thrilled the night — you, you! Cyrano. I swear you err. RoXANE. The soul — it was your soul! Cyrano. I loved you not. Roxane. You loved me not? Cyrano. 'Twas he! Roxane. You loved me! Cyrano. No! Roxane. See! how you falter now! Cyrano No, ray sweet love, I never loved you! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 299 KOXANE. Ah! Things dead, long dead, see! how they rise again! — Why, why keep silence all these fourteen years, "When, on this letter, which he never wrote, The tears were your tears? Cyrano [holding out the letter' to her]. The bloodstains were his. ROXANE, Why, then, that noble silence,- kept so long — Broken to-day for the first time — why? Cyrano. Why? . . . [Le Bret and Ragueneau enter running.] SCENE VI. 27}e Same. Le Bret and Ragueneau. Le Bret. What madness! Here? I knew it well! Cyrano [smiling and sitting up]. What now ? Le Bret. He has brought his death by coming, Madame. ROXANE. God! Ah, then! that faintness of a moment since . . . ? 300 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cykano. "Why, true! It interrupted the "Gazette:" . . . Saturday, twenty-sixth, at dinner-time. Assassination of De Bergcrac. [He takes ojf his hot; they see his head bandaged.] ROXANE. "What says he? Cyrano! — His head all bound! Ah, what has chanced? How? — "VYho? . . . Cyrano. "To be struck down, Pierced by a sword i' the heart, from a hero's hand!" That I had dreamed. O mockery of Fate! ■ — Killed, I! of all men — in an ambuscade! Struck from behind, and by a lackey's hand! 'Tis very well. I am foiled, foiled in all. Even in ray death. Ragueneau. Ah, Monsieur! . . . Cyrano [holding out his hand to him]. Ragueneau, Weep not so bitterly ! . . . What do you now, Old comrade? Ragueneau [amid his tears'j. . . . Trim the lights for Moliere's stage. Cyrano. Moliere! CYRANO DE BtRGERAC. 301 Kagueneau. Yes ; but I shall leave to-morrow. I cannot bear it! — Yesterda.y, they played "Scapin" — I saw be'd thieved a scene from you! Le Buet. "X^'hat! a whole scene? Kagueneau, Oh, yes, indeed. Monsieur, The famous one, "Que Diable allait-il faireV" Le Bret. Moliere has stolen that? Cyrano. Tut! He did well! . . . [To Eagueneau.] How went the scene? I told — I think it told? Ragueneau [sobbing]. Ah! how they laughed! Cyrano. Look you, it was my life To be the prompter every one forgets! [ToEoxane.] That night when 'neath your window Christian spoke — Under your balcony, you remember? ^Yell! There was the allegory of my whole life : I, in the shadow, at the ladder's foot, "While others lightly mount to Love and Fame! Just! very just! Here on the threshold drear 302 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Of death, I paj' my tribiite with the rest, To Moliere's genius, — Christian's fair face! [llw chapel-bell chimes. J7ie Nuns are seen pass- ing down the alley at the hack, to say their office. ] Let them go pray, go pray, when the bell rings ! PtOXANE l7'ising and calling']. Sister! Sister! Cyrano. \lwlding her fast]. Call no one. Leave me not; When you come back, I should be gone for aye. [The Nuns have all entered the chapel. The organ sounds.] I was somewhat fain for music — hark! 'tis come. KOXANE. Live, for I love you ! Cyrano. No! In fairy tales "When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says "I love you!" all his ugliness fades fast — But I remain the same, up to the last! ROXANE. I have marred j-our life — I, I! Cyrano. You blessed my life! Never on me had rested woman's love. My mother even could not find me fair, I had no sister; and, when grown a man, CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 303 I feared the mistress who would mock at me. But I have had your friendship — grace to you A woman's charm has passed across ray path. Le BacT [poinfi/ig to the moon, which is seen letioeen the trees\ Your other lady-love is come. Cyrano \s'milin(j\. I see. ROXANE. I loved but once, yet twice I lose my love! Cyrano. Hark j'ou, Le Bret! I soon shall reach the moon. To-night, alone, with no projectile's aid! . . . Le Bret. What are you saying? Cyrano. I tell you, it is there. There, that they send me for my Paradise, There I shall find at last the souls I love. In exile — Galileo — Socrates! Le Bret \rel)elliousl%j\ . No, no! It is too clumsy, too unjust! So great a heart! So great a poet! Die Like this? what, die . . . ? Cyran©. Hark to Le Bret, who scolds* 304 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Le Bret. [weeping]. Dear friend . . . Cyrano [starting up, his eyes tvild], "What ho! Cadets of Gascony ! The elemental mass — ah yes! the hie . . . Le Bret. His science still — he raves! Cyrano. Copernicus Said Roxane. Oh! Cyrano. Mais que diable allait-il faire, Mais que diable allait-il faire dans cette galere? . . . Philosopher, metaphysician, Khj'mer, brawler, and musician. Famed for his lunar exi)edition, And the unnumbered duels he fought, — And lover also, — by interposition! — Here lies Hercule Savinien De Cyrano de Bergerac, Who was everything, yet was naught. I cry you pardon, but I may not stay; See, the moon-ray that comes to call me hence! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 305 [He has fallen hach in his chair; the sobs of EoxANE recall him to reality; he looks long at her, and, touching her veil] I would not bid you mourn less faithfully That good, brave Christian : I would only ask That when my body shall be cold in clay You wear those sable mourning weeds for two. And mourn awhile for me, in mourning him. ROXANE. I swear it you ! . . . Cyrano [shivering violently, then suddenlg rising]. Not there! what, seated? — no! [They spring toward him.] Let no one hold me up — [He props himself against the tree.] Only the tree! [Silefice.] It comes. E'en now my feet have turned to stone, My hands are gloved with lead ! [He stands erect. ] But since Death comes, I meet him still afoot, [He draws his sword.] And sword in hand 4 Le Bret. Cyrano ! 306 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. ROXANE [Jialf fainting]. Cyrano ! [All shrink back in terror.] Cyrano. "Why, I M'ell believe He dares to mock my nose? Ho! insolent! [He raises his sivord.] What say you? It is useless? Ay, I know But who lights ever hoping for success? I fought for lost cause, and for fruitless quest! You there, who are you! — You ai'e thousands! Ah! I know 3'ou now, old enemies of mine! Falsehood! [He strikes in the air with his sword.] Have at you! Ha! and Compromise! Prejudice, Treachery ! . . . [He strikes.] Surrender, I? Parley? No, never! You too, Folly, — you? I know that 3'ou will lay me low at last; Let be! Yet I fall fighting, fighting still! [He juakes passes in the air, and stops, breathless.] You strip from me the laurel and the rose! Take all! Despite j'ou there is yet one thing I hold against you all, and when, to-night, I enter Christ's fair courts, and, lowly bowed, CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 307 Sweep with doffed casque the heavens' threshold blue. One thing is left, that, void of stain or smutch, I bear away despite you, [He sjjrings forward, his sword raised; it falls from Ms hand; he staggers, falls bacic into the arms of Lb Bret aJid Ragueneau.J EOXANE \hendiyig over Mm afid kissing his forehead^. 'Tis? . . . Cyrano [opening Ms eyes, recognizing her, and smiling] My panache. Curtain. Father Stafford^ By ANTHONY HOPEo The Most Hemarkable of Mr, Hope's Stories Neely's Prismatic Library. Gilt Top, 50 cents. Minneapolis Tribune :— " Thisistory is in'the genuine Hope style andf«f aid oh receipt of price by the puhtitht^^ F. TENNYSON NEELY, W QUEEN STRBBT. 114 PIPTH AVBNbtf. LONDON. NBW VOBK« U:v.e.,,n, r„ , L 006 860 688 8