CYRANO DE BERGERAC. A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS. BY EDMOND ROSTAND. TRANSLATED PROM THE FRENCH BY GLADYS THOMAS and MARY F. GUILLEMARD. NEW YORK : HURST & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. CYRANO DE BERGERAC ACT I. A Representation at the Hotel de Bourgogne. The hall at the Hotel de Bourgogne, in 1640. A sort of tennis-court arranged and decorated for a theatric cal performance. The hall is oblong and seen obliquely, so that one of it* sides forms the back of the right foreground, and meeting the left background makes an angle witU the stage, which is partly visible. On both sides of the stage are benches. The curtain i^ composed of two tapestries which can be drawit 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 theatre; at the back of the pit, ^.e., on the right foreground^ some benches forming steps, and underneath, a' •staircase which leads to the upper seats. An im- provised buffet ornamented with little lustres, vases, glasses, plates of tarts, cakes, bottles, etc. The entrance to the theatre is in the center of the back- 2013SS9 4 CYRANO BE BEUGJSKAU. gi-oiind, under the gallery of the boxes. A large door, half-open to let in the spectators. On the panels of this door, in different corners, and over the buffet, red placards bearing the words "ia Clorise.'''' At the rising of the curtain the hall is in semi-darkness, and still empty. The lustres are lowered in the middle of the pit ready to be lighted. SCENE I. The Public, arriving hy degrees. Troopers, BurgHt ERS, Lackeys, Pages, a Pickpocket, the Door- keeper, e^c, /oZZot/;ecZ 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 [/oZZow'm^'/iim]. Halloo! You there! Your money! The Trooper. I enter gratis. The Doorkeeper. Why ? The Trooper. Why ? I am 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! CriiAJSO UE BKliUEHAC. 5 [lltey fetice ivith the foils they have brought.^ AIjKCYL^y [entei'ing]. Pst . . . Flanquin! . . . Another [already there]. Champagne ? . . . The First [showinrj Jam cards and dice which he takes from his doublet] . See, here be cards and dice. [He seats himself on the floor.] Let's play. The Second [doing the satne]. Good; I am with you, villain! First Lackey [taking from his pocket a candle-end y ivhich he lights, and sticks on the floor]. I made free to provide myself with light at my master's expense I A Guardsman [to a Shop-Girl who advances]. 'Twas- prettily done to come before the lights were lit! [He fakes her roii^id the waist.] One of the Fencers [receiving a thrust]. A hit! One of the Card-Players. Clubs! The Guardsman [following the girl]. A kiss! The Shop-Girl [struggling to free herself]. They're looking! The Guardsman [drawing her to a dark corner]. No fear! No one can see! A Man [sitting on the ground with others who have brought their provisions]. 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 tipjiler may well quaff his Burgundy [he drinks] in the Burgundy Hotel! S CYRANO BE BERGERAG. "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 hreaJdng off, jostles him] brawlers! [Jie stumbles into the midst of the card-players] gamblers! The Guardsman [behind him, still teasing the Shop- girl]. Come, one kiss! The Burgher [hurriedly pulling his son away]. By all the holies! And this, my boy, is the theatre where they played Rotrou 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 your tricks! . . . First Page [with an air of wounded dignity]. Oh, sir! — such a suspicion! . . . [Briskly, to the Sec- ond 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 evil-looking youths]. Hark ye, young cut-purses, lend an ear, while I give you your first lesson in thieving. Second Page [calling up to others in the top galleries]. You ther^ Have you pea- shooters ? Third Page [from above]. Ay, have we, and peas withal! CYUAAO BE BEliGERAC. 7 [He blows ^ and peppers tJiem with peas.] Tre Young Man [to his father]. What piece do they give us? The Burgher. "Clorise." The Young Man. AVho may the author be ? The Burgher. Master Balthazar Baro. It is a play! . . . [He goes up arm-in-arm irith Jiis so7i.] The Pickpocket [to his Pupils]. Have a care, abov©^ all, of the lace knee-ruffles — cut tliem off! A Spectator [to another, showing him a corner in the gallery]. I was up there, the first uight of th» "Cid." The Pickpocket [making with his fingers the gesture of filching]. Thus I'or watches — The Burgher [coming dotvn again with his son]. Ah! You shall presently see some renowned actors . . . The Pickpocket [making the gestures of one wJio pullsr something stealthily, with little jerks]. Thus for handkerchiefs — The Burgher. Moytfleury . . . Some One [shouting from the tipper gallery]. Light up, below there! The Burgher . : . Bellerose, L'Epy, La Beaupre, Jodelet! A" Page [in the pit]. Here comes the buffet-girl! The Buffet-Girl [taking her place behind the buffet]. Oranges, milk, raspberry-water, cedar bitters! . . . [A hubbub outside the door is heard.] A Falsetto Voice. Make place, brute ->! 8 CYRANO DE B ERG E RAG. A Lackey [astonished]. The Marquises! — in the pit? . . . Another Lackey. Ohl only for a minute or two! [Efiitei' 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 disturbing the folk, or treading on their toes!— Oh, fie! fie! [Recognizing some other gentlemen who have en- tered a little before him.] Cuigy! Brissaille!! [Greetings and embraces]. GuiGY. True to our word! . . . Troth, we are here before the candles are lit. The Marquis. Ay, indeed! Enough! I am of an ill humor . . . Another. Nay, nay. Marquis! see, for your consola- tion, they are coming to light up! All the Audience [welcoming the entrance of the lighter]. Ah! . . . {They form in groups round th^ lustres as they are lit. Some people have taken their seats in. the galleries. Ligniere, a distinguished-looking roue., with disordered shirt- fro7it., arm-in-arm ivith Christian de Neuvillette. Christian, who is dressed elegantly., but rather behind the fashion, seems preoccupied^ and keeps looking at the boxes. ] CYRANO BE BEROERAC. 9 SCENE 11. TJie Same. Christian, Ligniere, then Ragueneau ami Le Bret. CuiGY. Ligniere! Brissaile [laughing^ Not drunk as yet ? Ligniere [aside, to Christian]. I may introduce you ? [Christian nods in asseiit.] Baron de Neuvillette. [Boirs.] The Audience [applauding as the first lustre is lighted and drawn np\ Ah! CuiGY [to Brissaille, looking at Christian]. 'Tis a pretty fellow! First Marquis [who has overheard]. Pooh! Ligniere [introducing them to Christian]. My lords De Cuigy . . . De Brissaille . . . Christian [hoicing]. Delighted! . . . First Marquis [to Second]. He is not ill to look at, but certes, he is not costumed in the latest mode. Ligniere [to CuigyJ. 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 [watchirig the people who are coming into the boxes]. There is the wife of the Chief - Justice. The Buffet-Girl. Oranges, milk . . . The Violinists [tuning np\. La — la — Cuigy [to Christian, 2^oi7iting to the hall, ivhich is filling fast]. 'Tis crowded. Christian. Yes, indeed. First Marquis. All the great world! 10 CYliANO DE BERGERAC. [Tliey recognize, and name the different elegantly dressed ladies who enter the boxes, howiiig low to them. Hie ladies send smiles in answer. ] Second Marquis. Madame de Guemenee. CuiGY. Madame de Bois-Daiiphin. First Marquis. Adored by us all! Brissaille. Madame de Chavigny . . . Second Marquis. Whosports with our poor hearts! ... LiGNiERE. Ha! so Monsieur de Corneille has come back from Rouen! The Young Man [tohis 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, Bourzeys, Bourdon, Arbaud ... all names that will live! 'Tis fine! First Marquis. Attention! Here comes our jjre- cieuses ; Barthenoide, Urimedonte, Cassandace, 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 [drawi7ig Christian aside]. Friend, I but came here to give you pleasure. The lady comes not. I will betake me again to my pet vice. Christian [persuasively]. No, no! You, who are ballad-maker to Court and City alike, can tell m© better than any who the lady is for whom I die of love. Stay yet awhile. The First Violin [striking his how on the desk]. Gen- tlemen violinists! [He raises his bow.] criL-iyo Dt: BERGERAG. U The Buffet-Girl. Macaroons, lemon-drink . . . [TJie violins begin to 2:)lay.^ Christian. Ah! I fear me she is coquettish, and over nice 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! LiGNiERE [making as if to go]. I must go. Christian [detaining hini]. Nay, stay. LiGNiERE. I cannot. D'Assoucy waits me at the tav- ern, and here one dies of thirst. The Buffet-Girl [passing hefore him tvith a tray]. Orange drink ? Ligmere. Ugh! The 'Buffet-Girl. Milk ? LiGNiERC. Pah! The Buffet-Girl. Rivesalte ? LiGNiERE. Stay. [To Christian.] I will rennin awhile. Let me taste this rivesalte. [He sits hy the buffet; the girl pours someout for him.] Cries [from all the audience, at the entrance of a plump little man, joyously excited]. Ah! Ragu- eneau! Ligmere [to Christian]. 'Tis the famous tavern-keeper Ragueneau. Ragueneau [dressed in the Sunday clothes of a pastry- cook, going yp quickly to Ligniere]. Sir, have you seen Monsieur de Cyrano ? Ligniere [introducing him to Christian]. The pastry- cook of the actors and the poets! 12 GTRANO BE BERGERAG. Ragueneau [overcome]. You do me too great honor . . . LiGNiERE. Nay, hold your peace, Maecenas that you are! Ragueneau. True, these gentlemen employ me . . . LiGNiERE. On credit! He is himself a poet of a pretty talent . . . Ragueneau. So they tell me. LiGNiERE. Mad after poetry! Ragueneau. 'Tis true that, for a little ode . . LiGNiERE. You give a tart . . . Ragueneau. Oh! — a tartlet! LiGNiERE. Brave fellow! he would fain excuse himself! — And for a triolet, now, did you not give in ex- change . . . Ragueneau. Some little rolls! LIGNIERE [severely]. They were milk-rolls! And as for the theatre, which you 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 ? Ragueneau. Four custards, and fifteen cream-puffs. [He looks round on all sides.] Monsieur de Cyrano is not here! 'Tis strange. Ligniere. Why so ? PwAGueneau. Montfleury plays! Ligniere. Ay, 'tis true that that old wine-barrel is to take Phoedon's part to-night; but what matter is that to Cyrano ? Ragueneau. How ? Know you not ? He has got a hot hate for Montfleury, and so! — has forbid him (JYRANO DE BERG ER AC. 13 strictly to show his face on the stage for one whole month. LiGNiEiiE [drinking Ids fourth glass]. Well? Ragueneau. Mouttteury will play! aCuigy. He cannot hinder that. Ragueneau. Oh! oh! that I have come to see! First Marquis. Who is this Cyrano? CuiGY. 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. [Pointing to a gentleman ivho 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 toward them.] Seek you for De Bergerac? Le Bret. Ay; I am uneasy . . . CuiGY. Ls it not true that he is the strangest of men ? Le Bret [tenderly]. True, that he is the choicest of earthly beings! Ragueneau. Poet! CuiGY. Soldier! Brissaille. Philosopher! Le Bret. Musician! Ligniere. And of how fantastic a presence: Ragueneau. Marry, 'twould puzzle even our grim painter Philippe de Champaigne to portray him ! Merhinks, whimsical, wild, comical as he is, only Jacques Callot, now dead and gone, had succeeded 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 14 CYI{A^''0 DE BEEGERAC. prouder than all the fierce Artabans of whom Gas- cony 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 and says: "He will anon take it off." But no!— Monsieur de Bergerac alwaj's keeps it on. Le Bret [throwiny hack his head]. He keeps it on — and cleaves in two any man who dares remark on it! Ragueneau {proudly]. His sword — 'tis one-half of the Fates' shears! First Marquis [shrugging his shoulders']. He will not coiae! Ragueneau. I say he will! and I wager a fowl! — ct la Ragueneau. The Marquis [laughing]. Good! ■ [Murmurs of admiration in the hall. Roxane has just appeared in her box. She seats herself in front, the duenna at the hack. Christian, ii'Jio is paying the Buffet-Girl, does not see her en- trance.] Second Marquis [with little cries of joy]. Ah, gentle- men! 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 ap- proaching her too near might chance to get a bad chill at the heart! Christian [raising his head, sees Roxane, and catches Ligniere by the arm]. 'lis she! CYRANO BE BERGKllAG. 15 LiGNiERE, Ah! is it she? Christian. Ay, tell me quick — I am afraid. LiGNiERE [tasting his rivesalte in sips]. Magdaleine Robin— Roxane, so called! A subtle wit— a pri- cieuse. Christian. Woe is me! LiGNiKRE. Free. An orphan. The cousiu of Cyrano, of whom we were now speaking. [At this moment an elegant nohleman, ivith blue rib- bon across his breast, enters the box^ and talks with Roxane, standing]. Christian [starting]. Who is yonder man ? Ligniere [ivho is becoming ti2)sy, winking at him]. Hal ha! Count de Guiche. Enamored of her. But wedded to the niece of Armand de Richelieu. Would fain raarry Roxane to a certain sorry fellow, one ^Monsieur de Valvert, a viscount — and — accom- modating! She will none of that bargain; but De Guiche is powerful, and can persecute the daughter of a plain untitled gentleman. More by token, I myself have exposed this cunning plan of his to the world, in a song which . . . Ho! 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! Ligniere. Have a care! It is he who will kill yoa [showing him Roxane by a look]. Stay where you are — she is looking at you. 10 CYRANO DE BERQERAG. Christian. It is true! {He stands lookimj at her. Tlie group of pick' pockets, seeing hitn 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]. Le Bret [who has been all rouiid the hall, coming back to Ragueneau reassured]. No sign of Cyrano. Bagueneau [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 Save, all but Ligniere. De Guiche, Valvert, t?ien MONTFLEURY. A Marquis [watching De Guiche, tvJio comes down from Roxane's box, and C7vsses the pit, surrounded by obsequious noblemen, among them the Vicomte de Valvert]. He pays a fine court, your De Guiche! Another. Faugh! . . . Another Gascon! The First. Ay, but the cold, supple Gascon— that is the stuff success is made of! Believe me, we were best make our bow to him. [They go toward De Guiche.] Second Marquis. What fine ribbons! How call you the color, Count de Guiche? "Kiss me, my dar- ling," or "Timid Fawn?" CYRANO DE BEROERAG, 17 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 ? [He goes toward the stage, followed by the Marquises and gentlemen. Taming, he calls.] Come you, Valvert! Christian [who is ivatching 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 pick- pocket ivho is about to rob him. He turns round]. Hey? 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 whis- per.] 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 [5a ?7iei9Za?/]. Well? The Pickpocket. His life is in peril. A song writ by him has given offense in high places — and a hun- dred 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! The Pickpocket [with great dignity]. ... Of the pro- fession. 18 CYRANO DK BiaiUKUAG. Christian. Where are they posted? The Pickpocket. At the Porte de Nesle. Ou his way- homeward. Warn him. Christian [letting go Ms 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 word that shall put him on his guard. Christian. Good— I fly! Ah, the scoundrels! A hun- dred men 'gainst one! {Looking lovingly at Rox- ANE,] Ah, to leave her! . . . [looking with rage at Valvert] and him ! . . . But save Ligniere I must! [He hurries out. De Guiche, the Viscount, the Marquises, Iiave all disappeared behind the curtain to take their places on the benches placed on the stage. Tlie pit is quite fuU; the galleries and boxes are also ci'owded.] The Audience. Begin! A Burgher [whose urig is drawn up on the end of a string by a Page in the upper gallery']. My wig! Cries OF Deught. He is bald! Bravo, pages— hal hat ha! . . .. The Burgher [furious, shaking his fist]. Young villain! Laughter and Cries [beginning very lotid, amf dyioig gradually away]. Ha! ha! ha! hal hal had [Total silence.^ CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 19 Le Bret [astonished]. What means this sudden silence ? . . . [ A Spectator says something to him in a low voice. ] Is't true ? 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 bare in front! The Cardinal! The Cardinal! The Car- dinal! A Page. The devil! We shall have to behave our- selves! . . . [A knock is heard upon the stage. Every one is mo- tionless. A pause.] The Voice of a Marquis [in the silence, behind the curtain]. Snuff that candle! Another Marquis [pidting his head through the open- ing in the curtain], A chair! [A chair is passed from hand to hand^ over tlie heads of the sp>eetators. The Marquis takes it and disappears, after blowing some kisses to the boxes. ] A Spectator. Silence ! [Ihree knocks are heard on the stage. The curtain opens in the centre. Tableau, 'ihe Marquises in insolent attitudes seated on each side of th.e stage. The scene represents a pastoral land- scape. Four little lustres light the stage ; tlie violins play softly. ] Le Bret [in a low voice to Ragueneau]. Montfleury comes on the scene ? 20 CYRANO BE BEHGERAC. Ragueneau [also in a low voice]. Ay, 'tis he "who begins. Le Bret. Cyrano is not here. Ragueneau. I have lost my wager. Le Bret. 'Tis all the better! {An air on the drone-pipes is heard, and Mont- fleury enters, enormously stout, in an Arca- dian shepherd's dress, a hat wreathed with roses drooping over one ear, blowing into a ribboned drone-pipe.] The Pit [applauding]. Bravo, Montfleury! Mont- fleuryr Montfleury [after bowing loiv, begins the part of Phcedon]. *' Heureux qui loin des cours, dans iin lieu solitaire, Se prescrit a soi-merae un exil volontaire, Et qui, lorsque Zephire a souffle sur les bois ..." A Voice [from the middle of the pit]. Villain! Did I not forbid you to show your face here for a month ? [General stupor. Evei'y one turns round. Murmurs.] Different Voices. Hey ?— What ?— What is't ? . . . [The peojyle stand up in the boxes to look.l CuiGY. 'Tis he! Le Bret [terrified]. Cyrano! The Voice. King of clowns! Leave the stage this in- stant! All the Audience [indignantly]. Oh! Montfleury. But . . . The Voice. Do you dare defy me ? CYMA^'^0 UE BEllGERAC. 21 Different Voices [from the pit and the hoxes]. Peacel Enough! — Play on, Montfleury — fear nothing! MoNTFLEURY [in (i trembling voice], " Heureux qui loin des cours, dans un lieu 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.] Montfleury [in a voice that trenibles more and more], " Heureux qui ..." [77ie cane is shaken.'] The Voice. Off the stage! The Pit. Oli ! Montfleury [choking]. "Heureux qui loin des cours ..." Cyrano [appearing suddenly in the pit, standing on a chair., his arms crossea, Ms beaver cocked fiercely, his mustache bristling, his nose terrible to see]. Ah! I shall be angry in a moment! . . . [Sensation.l SCEl^E IV. The Same. Cyrano, then Bellerose, Jodelot. Montfleury [to the Marquises]. Come to my help, my lords! A Marquis [carelessly]. Go on! Go on! 22 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. Cyrano. Fat man, take warning! If you 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 canel All the Marquises [rising^. Enough! . . . Mont- fleury . . . Cyrano. If he goes not quick, I will cut off his ears and slit him up! A Voice. But . . . Cyrano. Out he goes! Another Voice. Yet . . . Cyrano. Is he not gone yet ? {He makes the gesture of turning up his cuffs.] Good! I shall mount the stage now, buffet- wise, To carve this fine Italian sausage — thus! MoNTFL'^.URY [trying to be dignified]. You outrage Thalia in insulting me! Cyrano [very politely]. If that Muse, Sir, who knows you not at all, Could claim acquaintance with you, — oh, believe (Seeing how urn-like, fat, and slow you are) That she would make you taste her buskin's sole! The Pit. Montfleury! Montfieury! Come— Baro's play! Cyrano [to those who are calling out\. I pray you ha^e a '^"ro! If you go on, CYRANO DE BERQERAG. 23 My scabbard soon will render up its blade! {The circle round him widens.] The Crowd [drawing haclc]. Take care! Cyrano [to MontfleuryJ. Leave the stage! The Crowd [coming near and grumbling]. Oh! — Cyrano. Did some one speak ? [They draw hack again.] A Voice [singing at the hack]. Monsieur de Cyrano Displays his tyrannies: A fig for tyrants! What, ho! Come! Play us " LaClorise!" . . . ffLL THE Pit [singing]. "La Clorise!" "La Clo- rise!" . . . Cyrano. Let me but hear once more that foolish rhyme, I siaughter every man of you. A Bourgeois. Oh! Samson? Cyrano. Yes, Samson! Will you lend your Jawbone^ sir? A Lady [vi the hoxes]. Outrageous! A Lord. jScnndalous! A Bourgeois. 'Tis most annoying! A Page. Fair ^ood sport! The Pit. Kssr— Montfluery . . . Cyrano! Cyrano. Silence! The Pit [wildly exmted]. H-o-o-o-o-h! Quack! Cock* a-doodle-doo! Cyrano. I order > A Page. Miow! 24: CTRANO BE BERQERAG. 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 duelist Shall be despatched 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 proceed! [Turning toward the stage^ where Montfleury waits in an agony.] The theatre's too full, congested, — I Would clear it out. ... If not . . , [Puts his hand on his sword.'[ The knife must act! Montfleury. I . . . Cyrano [leaves his chair, and settles himself in th$ middle of the circle which has formed]. I will clap my hands thrice, thus— full moon! At the third clap, eclipse yourself I The Pit [amused]. Ah! Cyrano [clapping his hands]. One! Montfleury. I . . . A Voice [in the boxes]. Stay! The Pit. He stays ... he goes ... he stays . . • Montfleury. I think . . . Gentlemen, . . . Cyrano. Two! Montfleury. I think 'twere wisest . . . CYRANO DE BEROERAC. 25 Cyrano. Three! [MoNTFLEURY disappears as through a trap. Tem^ pest of laughs, w?iistling cries, etc.] The Whole House. Coward . . . come back! Cyrano [delighted sits lack in his chair arms crossed]. Come back an if you darel A Bourgeois. Call for the orator! [Bellerose CO )nes forward and bows.] The Boxes. Ah! here's Bellerose! Bellerose [elegantly]. My noble lords . . . The Pit. No! no! Jodelet! Jodelet [advancing, speaking through his Twse], Calves! The Pit. Ah! bravo! good! go on! Jodelet. No bravos, Sirs! The fat tragedian whom you all love Felt . . . The Pit. Coward! •Jodelet. . . . was obliged to go. The Pit. Come back I Some. No! Others. Yes! .V Young Man [to Cyrano]. But pray, Sir, for what reason, say, Hate you Montfleury? ^ -iRANO [graciously, still seated]. Youthful gander, know I have two reasons, — either will suffice. Prinio. An actor Tillainous! who mouths, And heaves up like a bucket fioui a well 2(5 CYRANO DE BERGERAG. The verses that should, bird-like, fly! Seeundo— That is my secret . . . Ths Old Bourgeois [behind him]. Shameful! You deprive us Of the ' ' Clorise !" I must insist . . . Cyrano [turning Ms chair toward the Bourgeois, /e- spectfully]. Old mule! The verses of old Baro are not worth A doit! I'm glad to interrupt . . . The Precieuses [in the boxes]. Our Baro! - My dear! How dares he venture! . . . Cyrano [turning his chair [toward the boxes, gallantly]. Fairest ones, Radiate, bloom, hold to our lips the cup Of dreams intoxicating, Hebe-lik^! Or, when death strikes, charm death with your sweet smiles; V 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 hag on the stage]. Catch then the purse I throw, and hold your peace! Twr'Rotj?>z [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 you chase us in a pack! . . . CyIiA^^O I)E BERGERAC. - , Bellerose. Clear uot the hall! . . . JoDELET. Get you all gone at once! [The people begin to go out, i chile Oyrano looks on with satisfaction. But the crowd soon stop on hearing the following scene, and remain where they are. The women, ivho, with their nvantles on, are already standing up in the boxes, stop to listen, and finally reseat themselves.^ Le Bret [to Cyrano]. 'Tis mad! . . . A Bore [coming up to Cyrano]. The actor Montfleiiry! 'Tis shameful! Why, he's protected -by the Duke of Candal! Have you a patron? 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 . . , [Shoivs his sword. ] As thus The Bore. You think not to contend? 28 CYRANO BE BEROERAC. Cyrano. 'Tismyidea! The Bore. But . . . Cyrano. Show your heels, now! The Bore. But I . . . Cyrano. Show your heesl ! 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 back]. 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. I . . . 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 ? The Bore. No, on the contrary! . . . (J YRANO DE BERG ERA C. t i Why then that air -perchance 3'ou think it large ? The Bork [stammering]. No; small, quite small — minute! < YRANO. • 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. Rascal contemptible! For that witless face That my hand soon will come to cuff — is all As empty . . . [He cuffs him.] The Bore. Aie! 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 word.] As . . . what my boot will shortly come and kick! The Bore [running aivay]. Help! Call the Guard! Cyrano. Take notice, boobies all Who find my visage's centre 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! 30 CYBANO BE BERGERAG. De Guichje \who^ with the Marquises, has come dotmt from the stage]. But he becomes a nuisance! The Viscount de Valvert [shrugging his sJwulders]. Swaggerer! De Guiche. Will no one put him dqjWn ? . . . The Viscount. No one? But wait! I'll treat him to . . . one of my quips! , . . See here! . . . [Ke goes up to Cyrano who 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 [imperturhdbly]. 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 By 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: "'Tisa rock! ... a peak! ... a capef — A cape, forsooth! 'Tis a peninsular!" Curious: " How serves that oblong capsular? For scissor-sheath ? or pot to hold your ink?" Gracious: 'J 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 . . . su^ pose That the tobacco-smoke spouts from your hoBe,— CYRANO DK BERQERAC, 31 Do not the neighbors, as the fumes rbe 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, Named 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 blowftf" Dramatic: "When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!" Admiring: "Sign for a perfumery!" Lyric: "Is this a conch ? . . . a Triton you?" Simple: " When is the monument on view ?" Rustic: "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 sir, is what you might have said, Had you of wit or letters the least jot: But, O most lamentable man! — of wit You never had an atom, and of letters You have three letters only!— they spell Ass! And, — had you had the necessary wit, 32 CYRANO BE BEROERAG. To serve me all the pleasantries I quote Before 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! De Guiche [trying to draw away the dismayed Viscount]. Come away. Viscount! The Viscount \clioM7ig 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 my 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 sJDirit 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, CYMANO DE BERG Eli AC. 33 And, knowing not what else to do with it, I threw it in the face of . . . some young fool. The Viscount. Base scoundrel I Rascally flat-footed lout! Cyrano [taking off his hat, and bowing as if the Vis- count had introduced himself \, Ah ? . . . and I, Cyrano Savinien Hercule de Bergerac, [Laughter. ] The Viscount [angrily^. Buffoon! Cyrano [calling out as if he had been seized with the cramp]. Aie! aie! The Viscount [who ivas going away, turns hacTi], What on earth is the fellow saying now ? Cyrano [unth grimaces of pain]. It must be moved, — it's getting stiff, I vow, — This comes of leaving it in idleness I Aie! ... The Viscount. What ails you ? Cyrano. The cramp! cramp in my sword! The Viscount [drawing his sword]. Good! Cyrano. You shall feel a charming little stroke! Tni^Yi^coJJ'iiii: [contemptuously]. 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 lesson]. Know then that the ballade should oontAia Three eight-versed couplets . . . 34 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. The Viscount {stamping}. Oh! Cyeano [still reciting]. And an envoi Of four lines . . . The Yiscodnt. You . . . Cyrano. I'll make one while we fight, And touch you at the final line. The Viscount. No! Cyrano. No ? [dedaimi7ig]. ** The duel in Hotel oi 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 spectators in the pit ; the Marquises and Officers mingled taith 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, Rague- NEAU, Cyrano, etc.] Cyrano [shutting his eyes for a second]. Wait while I choose my rhymes. ... I have them now! [He suits the action to each word. ] *' I gayly doff my beaver low, And, freeing hand and heel, My heavy mantle off I throw, And I draw my polished steel: Graceful as Phoebus, round I wheel. Alert as Scaramouch, CyJlAN(> BE BERGEUAG. 35 A word in vour ear, Sir Spark, I steal, — At the envoi" s end, I touch! [They engage.] *' Better for you liad you lain low; Wliere skewer my cock? 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 e7iroi, 1 touch. *' Oh, for a rhyme, a rhyme in o f — 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 encors end, I touch!" [He declaims solemnly.] Envoi. '■'> Prince, pray Heaven for your soul's weal! I move a pace — lo, such! and such! Cut over, — feint!" [Thrusting.] "What ho! You reel?" [r/?e Viscount staggers.^ Cyraso salutes.] " At the envoi's end, I touch!" [Acclamations. Applause in tJic oo.its. Fiowtv.'s and handkerchiefs are thrown down. The Officers 36 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. surround Cyrano, congratulating Mm. Rague- NEAU dances for joy. Le Bret is happy, hut anxious. The Viscount's friends hold him up and hear him away]. The Crowd [with one long shout.] Ah! A Trooper. Tis superb! A Woman. A pretty stroke! Ragueneau. a marvel! A Marquis. A novelty ! Le Bret. O madman! [The crowd presses round Cyrano. Chorus of] Compliments! Bravo! Let me congratulate! . . . Quite unsurpassed! . . . 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 CuigyJ. Who is that gentleman? CuiGY. Why — D'Artagnan. Le Bret [to Cyrano, taking his arm.] A word with you! . . . Cyrano. Wait; let tlie rabble go! . . . [To Belle- rose ] May I stay? Bellerose [respectfully]. Without doubt! [Cries are heard outside.] JoDELET [u^Jio has looked out]. They hoot Montfleuryl ByiAjERO^y, [solemnly]. Sic transit ! . . . [ To the Porters. J Sweep — close all, but leave the lights. We sup, but later on we must return- CYIiA^'U DE JJKliGEUAC. 37 For a rehearsal of to-morrow's farce. [JoDELET and Bellerose (JO out, hoiving loiv to Cyrano, j The Porter [to Cyrano]. You do not dine, sir? Cyrano. No. [The Porter goes oitt.'\ Le Bret. Because? Cyrano [proudly]. Because . . . [Clianging his tone as the Porter goes awag.] I have no money! . . . Le Bret [with the action of throiving a hag]. How! The bag of crowns? . . . Cyrano. Paternal bounty, in a day, 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 t^irn. iSJie comes timidly forward.] Sir, my heart mislikes to know you fast. [Showing the bit^et.] See, all you need. Serve yourself! Cyrano [taldng 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. [She offers him the whole bunch. He takes a few.] Nay, but this bunch! . . . [She tries to give Jri/n wine, but he stops her.] 38 CYRANO BE B ERG E RAG. A glass of water iair! . . . And half a macaroon! [He gives hack 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 cour tesies.] Good-night. [She goes out.] SCENE V. Cyrano, Le Bret. Cyrano [to Le Bret]. Now talk — I listen. [He stands at the huffet^ and placing before him first the macaroon.] Dinner! . . . [then the grapes^] Dessert! . . . [then the glass of water ^] Wine! . . . [he seats himself .] So! And now to table! Ah! I was 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 [fimshing 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 . . . CYRANO BK BKROKliAG, 39 Cyrano. He's an author. Twill not fail to please him That I should mar a brother-author's play. Le Bret. You make too many enemies by far! Cyrano {eating hi^ grajoes]. 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. Oh! by far the simplest path . . . Decided to be admirable in all! Le Bret [shrugging Ms shoulder s\ 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! 40 CrBANO DE BERGERAG. Le Bret [stupefied]. How now? What? Can it be ... ? Cyrano [laughing bitterly]. That I should love? . . . [Changing his to7ie, gravely.] I love. Le Bret. And may I know? . . . You never said . . . 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. As she can step into her chaise a porteurs, 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 spider-webs! Le Bret. Your cousin, Madeleine Robin? CYRANO DE BEROERAG. 41 Cyrano. Roxane! Le Bret. Well, but so much the better 1 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 pleasaunce, perfumed sweet; 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, " Tosaunter thus 'neath the moonshine, I were fain to have my lady, too, beside!" Thought soars to ecstasy, . . . O sudden fall! — The shadow of my profile on the wall! 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]. You weep? Cyrano. No, never! Think, how vilely suited Adown this nose a tear its passage tracing! I never will, while of myself I'm master, ' Let the divinity of tears — their beauty Be wedded to such common ugly grossnessi 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 chance of Fortune!' Cyrano [shaking his head]. 42 CYRANO BE BERGERAC. Look I a Caesar to woo Cleopatra? A Tito to aspire to Berenice? Le Bret. Your courage and your wit! — The little maid Who offered you refreshment even now, Her eyes did not abhor you — you saw well! 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 \i7itroducmg some one to CyranoJ. 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 hoiu]. I was bid ask you where a certain lady Could see her valiant cousin, — but in secret. Cyrano [ovenvhelmed']. See me? The Duenna [courtesying]. Ay, sir! She has somewhat to tell. Cyrano. Somewhat? The Duenna [still courtesying]. Ay, private matters! Cyrano [staggering]. Ah, my God! CYRANO DE BERQERAC. .[:] The Duenna. To-morrow, at the early blush of dawu, We go to hear mass at St, Koch. 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! . . . The Duenna. Wliere? Cyrano. At — the pastry-house of Ragueneau. 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 burnt She knows I live! Le Bret. Now you'll be calm, I hope? Cyrano [beside himself for joy]. Calm? I now calm? I'll b« frenetic, frantic. — raving mad Oh, for an army to attack! — a host! 44 CYRANO BE BERG EB AG. I've ten hearts iu my breast; a score of arros; 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, whispers are heard — the rehearsal is beginning. Ihe Violinists are in their places.'] A Voice from the Stage. Halloo there! Silence! We rehearse! Cyrano [laughing]. We go! [He moves away. By the big door enter Cuigy, Bris- saille, and some Officers, holding up Ligniere, who is drunk.] Cuigy. Cyrano! Cyrano. Well, what now? Cuigy. A lusty thrush They're bringing you! Cyrano [recognizi7ig him]. 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 . . . Revenge 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 BE BERGER AC. 45 Cyrano. A hundred men ? You'll sleep in your own bed! LiGNiERE [frightened]. But Cyrano [in a terrible voice, sliowing him the lighted lantern held by the Porter, who is listening curi- onslg]. Take the lantern. [Ligniere seizes it.] Let us start! I swear That I will make your bed to-night myself! [To the Office-rs.] Follow; some stay behind, as witnesses! CuiGY. A hundred! . . . Cyrano. Less, to-night — would be too few! [The Actors and Actresses, i?i their costumes, have come down from 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 day, an action full of grace; As he was leaving church, he saw his love Take holy water; — he, who is afeared 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. Ay, was it not ? The Actress [To the others]. But why a hundred men 'gainst one poor rhymer ? Cyrano. March! [2b ^7«e Officers.] Gentlemen, when you shall see me charge, 46 CYRAj^O DE BERGERAG. 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 [jiunping 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! ^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 Glory lends, herself, To deck my beaver, — proud as Scipio! . . . — You hear me ? — I forbid you succor me! — One, two, three! Porter, open wide the doors! \The Porter opens the doors ; a view 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 scurves, the Seine CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 47 Trembles, mysterious, like a magic mirror, And, shortly, you shall see what you shall see! All. To the Porte de Ncsle! C5YRAN0 [standing on the threshold]. Ay, to the I'ori" de Nesle! [Turning to the Actress.] Did you not ask, young lady, for what cause Against this rhymer fivescore men were sent ? [He draws his sword ; then, calmly.] 'Twas that they knew him for a friend of mine! [Ee 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. 48 CYRANO DE BEROERAC. ACT II. The Poet's Eating-Hoube, Kaoueneau's cook and pastry-shop. A large kitchen at the corner of the Rue St. Honore and the Rue 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, surmounted 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, princi- pally yellow sunflowers. On the same side, further back, an immense open fire- place, in front of which, between monster fire-dogs, on each of which hangs a little saucepan; the roasts are dripping into the pans. On the right, foreground with door. Further 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 luster is alight. It is a place for eating and drinking. A wooden gallery, continu- ing the staircase, apparently leads to other similar little rooms. In the middle of the shop an iron hoop is suspended from the ceiling by a string with which it can be drawn up and down, and big game is hung around it. CYRANO I)E BER0E2,C^, 49 The ovens in the darkness 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 morn- ing. Bustle and hurry of scullions, fat cooks, and diminutive apprentices, their caps profusely decor- ated 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 Ragueneau is seated writing on the rising of the curtain. SCENE I. Ragueneau, Pastry-Cooks, then Lise. Ragueneau is writing, ivith an inspired air, at a small table, and counting on Ms fingers. First Pastry-Cook [bringing in an elaborate fancy dish]. Fruits in nougat! Second Pastry-Cook [bringing another dish]. Custard! Third Pastry-Cook [bringing a roast, decorated toith feathers] . Peacock ! Fourth Pastry-Cook [bringing a batch of cakes on a slab]. Rissoles! Fifth Pastry-Cook [bringing a sort of pie-dish]. Beef jelly! Ragueneau [ceasing to write, and raising his head]. Aurora's silver rays begin to glint e'en now on the copper pans, and thou, O Pwigueneau! must 50 CYUANO DE BERGERAG. 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! The Cook. How much too short? Ragueneau. Three feet. [He passes on further. ] The Cook. What means he? First Pastry-Cook [shoiving a dish to Ragueneau]. The tart! Second Pastry-Cook. The pie! Ragueneau \hefore thefire\. My Muse, retire, lest thy bright eyes be reddened by the fagot's blaze! [To a Cook, shoiving him some loaves.^ You have put the cleft o' th' loaves in the wrong place; know you not that the ccesura should be between the hemi- stiches? [To another, showing him an unfinished pasty. ^ 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, p,s you put on your lengthy spit che modest fowl and the superb turkey, my son, alternate them, as the old Malherbe loved well to alternate his long lines of verse with the short ones; thus shall your roasts, in strophes, turn before the flame! Another Apprentice [also coming up with a tray covered by a napkin]. Master, I bethought me 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! CYRANO DE BERGERAG. 51 The Apprentice. 'Tis of brioche pastry. Ragueneau [touched]. With conserved fruits. The xVpprentice. 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 hide that money. [To Lise, showing her the lyre, vnth a conscious look.] Is it not beauti- ful? Lise. 'Tis passing silly! [She puts a pile of papers on the counter.] Ragueneau. Bags? Good. I thank you. [He looks at them.] Heavens! my cherished leaves! The poems of my friends! Torn, dismembered to make bags for holding biscuits and cakes! . . . Ah, '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? Eagueneau. 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 ? 52 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. SCENE II. TJie Same. Two Children, who have just trotted into the shoj?. Ragueneau. What would you, little ones ? First Child. Three pies. Ragueneau [sercing them]. See, hot and well browned. Second Child. If it please you, sir, will you wrap them up for us ? Ragueneau [aside^ distressed]. Alas! one of my bags! [To the Children.] What? Must I wrap them up ? [He takes a hag, and just as he is about to put in the pies, he reads] " Ulysses thus, on leav- ing fair Penelope . . ." Not that one! . . . [He puts it aside, and takes another, and as he is ahout to put in the pies, he reads] " The gold-locked Phoebus ..." Nay, nor that one! . . . [Same play.] LiSE [impatiently]. What are you dallying for? Ragueneau. Here! here! here! [He chooses a third, resignedly.] The sonnet to Phillis! . . . but 'tis hard to part with it! LiSE. By good luck! he has made up his mind at last! [Slirugging her shoidders.] Nicodemus! [She mounts on a chair, and begins to range plates on a dresser.] Ragueneau [taking advantage of the moment she turns her back, calls back the Children, who are already at the door]. Hist! children! . . . Render me back the sonnet to Phillis, and you sball have six pies instead of three. [T/ie Children give him hack the hag, 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! . . ." [Cyrano enters hurriedly.^ SCENE III. Ragueneau, Lise, Cyrano, then the Musketeer. Cyrano. What's o'clock ? Ragueneau [boiving lore]. Six o'clock. Cyrano [ivith emotion}. 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 [contemjjtuously]. Ah! . . . the duel! Ragueneau [admiringly]. Ay! the duel in verse! . . . Lise. He can talk of naught else! Cyrano. Well! Good! let be! Ragueneau [making passes ivith a spit that he catches up]. "At \s\iQ envoi's ei\(\,l touch! . . . At the envoi'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 straightens himself] . . . Oh! to write a ballade! 54 CYRANO DE BERGERAG. LiSE [to Cyrano, wlio, as he passes hy the counter^ has absently shaken Jiands 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! 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.] 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 com- ing .. . LiSE [ironically]. Oh, ay, for their first meal o' the day! Cyrano. Pry thee, 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 tdble^ and drawing some paper toivard him]. 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-day! [Lise goes up to him quickly]. Cyrano [turning round]. Who's that? Ragueneau. 'Tis a friend of my wife— a terrible war- rior — at least so says he himself. Cyrano [taking up the pen, and wo^eowm^r Ragueneau CYRANO Db: BERG Eli AG. 55 away]. Hush! [To himself.] I will write, fold it, give it to her, and fly! [Throws down the pen.] Coward! . . . But strike me dead if I dare to speak to her, ... ay, even one single word! [To Ragueneau.] What time is it? Ragueneau. a quarter after six! . . . Cyrano [striking Jits breast]. Ay — a single word of all those here! here! But writing, 'tis easier done . . . [He takes up the pen]. 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 tht sil- houettes of their figures move uncertainly and hesitatingly. ] SCENE IV. Ragueneau, Lise, the Musketeer. Cyrano at the little table writing. The Poets, dressed in blaek^ their stockings ungartered, and covered with 7nud. Lise [entering, to Ragueneau]. Here they come, your mud-bespattered friends! First Poet [entering, to Ragueneau]. Brothet' in art! . . . Second Poet [to Ragueneau, shaking his hands]. Dear brother' Third Poet. High-soaring eagle among pastry-cooks! [He sniffs.] Marry! it smells good here in your eyrie! Fourth Poet. 'Tis at Phoebus' own rays that thy roasts turn! 56 CYRANO BE BERGERAC. Fifth Poet. Apollo among master-cooks — Ragueneau \wTiom they surround and embrace]. Ah ! how quick a man feels at his ease with them! . . First Poet. We were stayed by the mob; they are crowded all round the Porte de Nesle! . . . 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 [writing a little way off: — he is heard mur- muring a word from time to time]. "I love thee !" First Poet. 'Twas one man, say they all, ay, swear to it, one man who, single-handed, put the whole band to the rout! Second Poet. 'Twas a strange sight! — pikes and cud- gels strewed thick upon the ground. Gyuk^O [writing]. . . . "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 . . . Qy^rk^o [same play]. . . . "Thy lips" . . . First Poet. 'Twas a parlous fearsome giant that was the author of such exploits! CYRANO UE BERG Eli AC. 57 Cyrano [same play]. ..." And when I see thee come, I faint for fear." Second Poet [filching a cake]. What has rhymed of late,' Ragueneau? Cyrano [same 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. Ragueneau [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 take which he has taken]. Its cap is all a' one side! [He makes one bite of the top.] First Poet. See how this gingerbread wooes the fam- ished rhymer with its almond eyes, and its eye- brows of angelica! [He takes it.] Second Poet. We listen. Third Poet isqtieezing a cream-puff gently]. How it 'ftughs! Till its very cream runs over! Second Poe <* [biting a bit off the great lyre of pastry]. This is the first time in my life that ever I drew any n>.'^ans of nourishing me from the lyre! Ragueneau [who lias put himself ready for reciting, cleared his throat, settled his cap, struck an at- titude]. A recipe in verse! . . . Second Poet [to First, nudging him]. You are breakfasting? First Poet [to Second]. And you dining, methinks. Ragp«neau. How almond tartlets are made. Beat your eggs up, light and quick; Froth them thick; 58 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. 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. Round 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! The Poets [with mouths crammed full]. Exquisite! Delicious! A Poet [cTio/czn^]. Homph! [They go up, eating]. Cyrano [who has been ivatehing, goes toward Ragu- ENEAu], Lulled by your voice, did you see how they were stuffing themselves? Ragueneau [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! . . . CYRANO BE BERGERAG. 59 [Ragueneau goes after h is frie^ids. Cyrano follows him with his tyes, tlien, rather sharply. \ Ho there! Lise! [LiSE, who is talldng tenderly to the Musketeer, starts^ and comes down toward CYRkNO.^ So this fine captain is laying siege to you? Lise [offended]. One haughty glance of mine eye can conquer any man that should dare venture aught 'gainst my virtue. Cyrano. Pooh! Conquering eyes, methinks, are oft conquered eyes. Lise [choking with anger]. But- — Cyrano [incisioely]. I like Ragueneau well, and so — mark me, Dame Lise — I permit not that he be ren- dered a laughing-stock by any . . . Lise. But . . . Cyrano [who ha^s raised his voice so as to be heard by the gallant]. A word to the wise . . . [He bows to the Musketeer, and goes to the doorway to watch, after looking at the clock.] Lise [to the Musketeer, tvho has merely bowed in aiiswer to Cyrano's bow]. How now? Is this your courage? . . . AVhy turn you not a jest on his nose? The Musketeer. On his nose? . . . ay, ay . . . his nose. [He goes quickly further away ; Lise follows hi?n]. Cyrano [from the doorway, signing to Ragueneau to draw the Poets away]. Hist! . . . Ragueneau [showing them the door on the right]. We shall be more private there . . . Cyrano [impatiently]. Hist! Hist! . . . (50 CYRANO BE BERGERAC. Kagueneau [drawing , them furtlier\ 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 aZZ/oZZoid/ Kagueneau in 2:>rocessio7i, after sweeping all the cakes off the trays.] SCENE V. Cyrano, Roxane, t7ie 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 Dv^mu^.] 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 hags 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. What say you to the cake they call a little puff ? The Duenna. If made with cream, Sir, I love them passing well. CTRANO BE BERG ER AC. (ji Cyrano. Here I plunge six for your eating into the bosom of a poem by Saint Amant! And in these verses of Chapelain 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 [pusJiing her out]. And come not back till the very last crumb be eaten! [He shuts the door, comes down toward Roxane, and, iincovering, stands at a respectful distance from her.] SCENE VI. Cyrano, Roxane. €Iyrano. Blessed be the moment when you condescend, — Remembering that humbly I exist — To come to meet me, and to say ... to tell ? . . . Roxane [ivho has unmasked]. To thank you first of all. That dandy count. Whom you checkmated in brave sword-play 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! . . . Husband (i Za //iocfe.' [Bowing. ] 62 CTRANO DE BERGERAC. Then I fought, happy chauce! sweet lady, not For my ill favor — but your farors fair! ROiANE. 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. AVhile you wove corn-straw plaits for your dolls' hair! RoxANE. Those were the days of games! . . . Cyrano. And blackberries! ... RoxAiiE. 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. You'd run to me! Then — aping mother- ways- - I, in a voice would-be severe, would chide, — [She takes his hand.] What is this scratch, again, that I see here ? [She starts, surprised.] Oh! 'tis too much! What's this? Cyrano 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. CYRANO BE BEROERAC. 63 RoxANE [seating herself by the table, and dipping her handkerchief in a glass of water]. Give here! Cyrano [sitting by ?ier]. So soft! so gay matemai-sweet! ROXANE. And tell me, while I wipe away the blood. How maDy 'gainst you ? Cyrano. Oh! a hundred— near. RoxANE. Come, tell me! Cyrano. No, let be. But you, come tell The thing just now, you dared not . . . Roxane [keeping his hand]. Now, I dare! The scent of those old days emboldens me! Yes, now I dare. Listen. I am in love. Cyrano. Ah! . . . Roxane. But with one who knows not. Cyrano. Ah! . . . Roxane. Not yet. Cyrano. Ah! . . . Roxane. 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! . . , Roxane. Leave your hand; why, it is fever-hot! — But I have seen love trembling on his lips. Cyrano. Ah! . . . 64 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. RoxANE [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 . . . [Re shows his liand, smiling.] This scratch! 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 th^n that he ... ? RoxANE. Oh! people talk 'Neath the limes in the Palace Royale . . Gos sip's chat has let me know . . . Cyrano. He is cadet? RoxANE. In the Guards. Cyrano. His name? RoxANE. Baron Christian de Neuvillette. Cyrano. How now? ... He is not of the Guard*! RoxANE. To-day Ho is to join your ranks, under Captain Carbon de Castel-Jaloux. CYRANO DE BEROERAG. m Cyrano. Ah, how quick, How quick the heart has flown! . , . But, vag poor child . . . The Duenna [opening the door]. The cakes are eaten, Monsieur Bergerac! 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, perchance?! RoxANE. Ah no! I guess — I feel — his words are fairE Cyrano. All words are fair that lurk 'neath fair mustache t —Suppose he were a fool! . . . RoxANE [stamping her foot]. Then bury me! Cyrano [after a pause]. Was it to tell me this you brought me here? I fail to see what use this serves, Madame. RoxANE. 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— (pure! Heaven 8av« tksc mark!) They told you that as well? RoxANE. Ah! Think how I Trembled for him! Cyrano [between his teeth]. Not causeleBsly! @« CYRANO DE BERGERAG. SoxA^f. 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 all fear, all — if he would only . . . Cyrano. Good! I will befriend your little Baron. BoxANE. Ah! You'll promise me you will do this for m»l I've always held you as a tender friend. Cyrano. Ay, ay. RoxANE. Then you will be his friend ? Cteano. I swear! BcrxANE. And he shall fight no duels, promi^t! Oyrano. None. EOXANE. You are kind, cousin! Now I must be gone. {She puts on her mask arid veil quickly; 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. [She sends Mm a kiss with her fingers.] How good yon are! Cyrano. Ay! ay! BOXANS. A hundred men a^inst you? Now, farewell. — W© are great Iriends? Cyrano. Ay, ay! ItoiANX. Oh, bid him write! You'll tell me all one day — A hundred men!— Ah, bravel . . . How brave! OTRANO BE BEROERAC. 67 OnuLNO \h(nfflng to her\ I have fought better since. {Mlie goes out. Cyrano stands motionless, with eyes on the ground. A silence. The door (R) operis. RA.GUENEAU looks in. ] SCENE VII. Otrano, Ragueneau, Poets, Carbon de Oaotbl- Jaloux, the Cadets, a crowd, then Db Guiche. Ragueneau. Can we come in? Otrano [without stirring]. Yes . . . [Ragueneau sign^ to his friends, and they come in. At the same time, hy door at hack, enters Oab- BON DE Castel-Jaluux, in Captain's uniform. He makes gestures of surprise on seeing Cyraho.] Carbon. Here he is! Cyrano [raising his head]. Captain! . . . Carbon [delightedly]. Our hero! We lieard all! Thirty or more Of my cadets are there! . . . Cyrano [shrinking hack]. But ... ' Carbon [trying to draiv him away]. Come with me! They will not rest until they see you! Otrano. No! Carbon. They're drinking opposite, at The Bear's Haad. Cyrano. I . . . Carbon [going to the door and calling across th$ street in a voice of thunder]. He won't come! The hero's in the sulks! 68 CYBANO DE BERGERAC. A Voice [outside]. Ah! Sandious f {TumuU outside. Noise of hoots and swords is heard approaching. ] Carbon [rubbing his hands]. They are running 'cross the street! Cadets [e7iteri7ig]. Mille dious ! Capdedious ! Pocapdedious ! Bagueneau [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! Third Cadet. Come! I must embrace you! Cyrano. Baron! Several Gascons. We'll embrace him, all in turn! Cyrano [not knowing whom to reply to]. Baron! . . . Baron! ... I beg . . . Bagueneau. 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! A Bourgeois [eiitering, folloived by a group of men]. Sir, all the Marais is a-coming here! CYRANO DE BERGERAU. e# [Outside the street has filled with people. Chaism d porteurs and carriages have dravm up.] Le Bret [i7i a low voice, smiling, to Cyrano]. And Roxane? Cyrano [quickly]. Hush! The Crowd {calling outside]. Cyrano? . . . [A crowd rush into the shop, pushing one another. Ac- clamations], Kagueneau [standing on a table]. Lol my shop Invaded!. They break all! Magnificent! People [crou-ding round Cyrano]. My friend! . . . my friend . . . Cyrano. Meseems that yesterday I had not all these friends! Le Bret [deligJited]. Success! A Young Marquis [hurrying up ivith his hands held^ out] . My friend, Didst thou but know . . . Cyrano. Thou! . . . Marry! . . . thou! . . . Pray, whe© Did we herd swine together, you and I? Another. I would present you, Sir, to some fair dames Who in my carriage yonder . . . Cyrano [coldly]. Ah! and who Will first present you, Sir, to me? Le Bret [astonisJied]. What's wrong? Cyrano, Hush! A Man of Letters [with writing-board]. A few details ? . . . Oyrano. No. 70 CYRANO BE BERQERAG. Le Bret [nvdging his elbow]. 'Tis Theophrast, 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! K Poet [advancing]. Sir . . . Cyrano. What, another! The Poet. . . . Pray permit I make A pentacrostic on your name . . . Some One [also advancing']. Pray, Sir . . . Cyrano. Enough! enough! [A movement in the crowd. De Guiche appears., escorted by officers. Cuigy, Brissaille, the Of- ficers who went with Cyrano the night before. Cuigy comes rapidly up to Cyrano.] Cuigy [to Cyrano]. Here is Monsieur de Guiche! [A murmur — every one makes way.] He comes from the Marshal of Gassion! De Guiche [bowing to Cyrano]. . . . Who would express his admiration, Sir, For your new exploit noised so loud abroad. The Crowd. Bravo! Cyrano [bowing]. The Marshal is a judge of valor. De Guiche. He could not have believed the thing, unlew These gentlemen had sworn they witnessed it. Cuigy. With our own eyes! Le Bret [aside to Cyrano, who has an absent aw\. But . . . you . . . Cyrano. HushI CYRANO DE BEROERAC. Tl Le Bret. But . . . You suffer? Cyrano [starting^ Before this rabble ?— I ? . . . [He draws himself up, twirls hU mustache, and throiM back his shoulders.] Wait! . . . You shall seel De GtJiCHE [to whom Cuigy ?ias spoken in a low «oftf#]. In feats of arms, already your career Abounded. — You serve with those "crazy pAt«B Of Gascons ? Cyrano. Ay, with the Cadets. A Cadet [in a terrible voice]. With us! De Guiche [looking at the Cadets, ranged b^ind Cyrano]. Ah! . . . All these gentlemen of haughty mien, Are they the fanaous? . . . Carbon. Cyrano! Cyrano. Ay, Captain! Carbon. Since all my company's assembled here, Pray favor me, — present them to my lord! Cyrano [making two steps toivard De Guiche]. My Lord de Guiche, permit that I present — [Pointing to the Cadets. J The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux! Brawling and swaggering boastfully, The bold Cadets of Gascony! Spouting of Armory, Heraldry, Their veins a-brimming with blood so blu«. The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux: P CYRANO BE BERGERAC. Eagle-eye, and spindle-shanks, Fierce mustache, and wolfish tooth! Slash-the-rabble and scatter- their-ranks; JEagle-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! -''Pink-your-Doublet" and "Slit-your-Trunk," In brawl and skirmish they show their spunk, •Give rendezvous in broil and fray; -^'Pink-your-Donblet" and "^lit-your-Trunk" Are their gentlest sobriquets! "What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! All jealous lovers are sport for you! O Woman! dear divinity! What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! Whom scowling husbands quake to see. Blow, "tararara," and cry "Cuckoo." What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! Husbands and lovers are game for you! De Guiohe [seated with haughty carelessn^s in an armchair brought quickly by Ragueneau]. A poet! 'Tis the fashion of the hour! — Will you be mine ? Oyrano. No, Sir,— no man's! Dk Guiche. Last night Your fancy pleased my lancle Richelieu. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 73 ni gladly saj a word to him for you. Le Bret [ooerjoyed]. 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! De Guiche, Take them to him. Cyrano [beginning to he tempted and attracted]. In sooth, — I would . . . Db 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. Really? You have noticed that? A Cadet [entering, with a string of old battered plumed beaver hats, fall of holes ^ slung on his sword]. See, Cyrano, — this morning, on the quay What strange bright-feathered game we caught! The hats o' the fugitives . . . Carbon. ^' Spolia opima .-"' All [laughing]. Ah! ah! ah! Cukjy. He who laid that ambush, 'faith! 74 CYRANO DE BER&ERAG. Must curse and swear! Brissaille. Who was it? De Guiche. I mys#lf. [The laughter stops. '[ I charged them— work too dirty for my sword, To punish and chastise a rhymster sot. [ CoTistrained silence. ] The Oadkt [in a low voice, to Cyrano, showing him the beavers]. What do with them? They're full of grease!— a stew? Cyrano [taking the sword and, with a salute, dropping the hats at De GuiCHE's/ee^]. Sir, pray be good enough to render them Back to your friends. De Guiche [rising sharply] . My chair there— quick!— I gol [To Cyrano, passionately.] As to you, sirrah! . . . Voice [in the street]. Porters for my lord De Guiche! De Guiche [who has controlled himself, smiling]. 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 bach]. My lord's chairt De Guiche. . . . The windmill chapter! Cyrano [bowing]. Chapter the thirteenth. De Guiche. For when one tilts 'gainst windmills— it may chance . . . Cyrano. Tilt I 'gainst those who change with every breezd? De Guiche. . . . That windmill sails may sweep yon with their arm down — in the mire! . . . CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 75' Qt&jlho. Or upward— to the stars! [De Guiche goes out, and moicnts into his ehair. The other lords go away whispering together. Li Bret goes to the door with them. The crowd disperses. ] SCENE VIII. Cyrano, Le Bret, the Cadets, who are eating and drinking at the tables JR. and L. Cyrano [bowing mockingly to those who go out without daring to salute him\ Gentlemen . . . Gentlemen . . . Le Bret [coming back, despairingly]. Here's a fine coil! Cyrano. Oh! scold away! Le Bret. At least, you will agree That to annihilate each chance of Fate Exaggerates . . . Cyrano. Yes! — I exaggerate! Le Bret [triiimphantly]. Ah! 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, gram mercy! What! I, like all the rest, 76 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. 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 ray back to bend? — No, grammercy! Or,— double-faced and sly — Run 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 Mercury /" 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 — singf Dream, laugh, go lightly, solitary, free. With eyes that look straight forward — fearless voietl To cock your beaver just the way you choose,— CYRANO BE BERGERAC. 77 For " yes " or " no" show fight, or turn a rhyme! — 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 Caesar, 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 alone! Le Bret. Alone, an if you will ! But not with hand 'Gainst every man! How in the devil's name Have you 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, hoi another enemy? Le Bret. Lunacy! Cyrano. Well, what if it be my vice, My pleasure to displease— to love men hate me! Ah, friend of mine, believe me, I march better 'Neath the cross-fire of glances inimical I How droll the stains one sees on fine-laced doublets, From gall of envy, or the poltroon's drivel! —The enervating friendsliip which infolds you ^ CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 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, embracing 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 you like a halo! I^ Bret {after a silence, ijfaking his arm\. Speak proud aloud, and bitter! — In my ear Whisper me simply this, — She loves thee notl Oyrano [vehemently^ Hush! [Christian Tms just entered, and mingled with the Oadits, tvho do not speak to him ; he Juis seated himself at a table, where Lise serves him.] SCENE IX. Oybano, Le Bret, the Cadets, Christian De Neuvil- LETTE. A Cadet [seated at a table, glass in hand]. OjTano! [Cyrano turns round.] The story! Cyrano. In its time! [He goes up on Le Bret's arm. They talk in low voices, ] The Cadet [rising and comingldown]. The story of the fray! 'Twill lesson well [He stops before the table where Christian is seated.] This timid young apprentice! CYRANO BE BEBOERAC. 79 C'BRimik's [raising his head]. 'Prentice! Who? Another Cadet. This sickly Northern greenhorn! Christian. Sickly! First Cadet [mockingly]. Hark! 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 hangedl Christian. What may that be ? Another Cadet [in a terrible voice]. See here! [J?e puts his finger three times., inysteriously on his nose. J 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, ivho is talking with Le Bret.] Another [ivho has meanwhile come up noiselessly to sit on tJie table — whispering behind him]. Hark! He put two snuffling men to death, in rage, For the sole reason they spoke through their nose! Another [i7i a liollow voice., darting on all-fours from undei' the table, where 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 ci'ossed arms, look at Chribtloi. He rises and goes over to Carbon de Cabtsl- Jaloux, who is talking to an Officer, and feigns to see nothing.] 80 CYRANO BE BERGERAC. Christian. Captain! Carbon [turning and looking at him from head to foot]. Sir! Christian. Pray, what skills it best to do To Southerners who iswagger ? . . . Carbon. Give them proof That one may be a Northerner, yet brave! [He turns his back on him. ] Christian. I thank you. First Cadet [to Cyrano]. Now, the tale! All. The tale! Cyrano [coming toward them] . The tale ? . . . {ATI hring^their stools up, and group round him, listen- ing eagerly. Christian 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. Gadsooks! One could see nothing further . . . Christian. Than one's nose! [Silence. All slowly ris«, looking in terror at Cyrano, who has stopjjed — dumfounded. Pause.] Cyrano. Who on God's earth is that ? A Cadet [whispering]. It is a man Who joined to-day. Cyrano [making a step toward Christian]. To-day? Carbon [in a low voice]. Yes . . . His name is The Baron de Neuvil . . . Cyrano [chetk]. This mask of mine . . . Cyrano [pretending to he reassured]. In Venice? ha!— or Rome? De Guiche [trying to pass]. A lady waitg . . . Cyrano [quite reassured], Oh-ho! I am in Parisl CYRANO BK BERG EB AG. 119 De Gdiche [smiling in spite of Jiimself]. The fool is comical! Cyrano. You laugh? De Guiche. I laugh, but would g«t by! Cyrano [beaming with 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.] De Guiche [beside himself]. Sir! . . . Cyrano [just as he is about to pass, holds out his leg as if to show him something and stops him]. In my leg — the calf — there is a tooth Of the Great Bear, and, passing Neptune close, I would avoid his trident's point, and fell Thus sitting, plump, right in the Scales! My weight Is marked, still registered, up there in heaven! [Hurriedly preventing De Guiche from passing, and detaining him by the button of his doublet.] I swear to you that if you squeezed my nose It would spout milk! De Guiche. Milk? Cyrano. From the Milky Way! De Guiche. Oh, go to hell! Cyrano, [crossing his arms] . I fall. Sir, out of he«T«Dl Now, would you credit it, that as I fell J20 CYRANO BE BER&ERAG. I saw that Sirius wears a nightcap? True! [ Confidentially.] The other Bear is still too small to bite. [Laughing. ] I went through the Lyre, but I snapped a cord; [Grrandiloquent. ] I mean to write the whole thing in a book; The small gold stars, that wrapped up in my cloak, I carried safe away at no small risks. Will serve for asterisks i' the printed page! De Guiche, Come, make an end! I want . . . Cyrano. Oh-ho! You are sly! De Gcjiche. Sir! Cyrano. You would worm all out of me! — the way The moon is made, and if men breathe and live In its rotund cucurbita? De Guiche [angrily]. No, no! I want . . . Cyrano. Ha, ha! — to know how I got up? Hark! It was by a method all my own. De Guiche [wearied]. He's mad! Cyrano [contemptuously]. No! not for me the stupid eagle Of Regiomontanus, nor the timid Pigeon of Archytas — neither of those! De Guiche. Ay, 'tis a fool! But 'tis a learned fool! Cyrano. No imitator I of other men! [De Guiche has succeeded in getting by, and goes fe- ward Roxane's door. Cyrano follows him, ready to stop him hy force.] Six novel methods, all, this brain invented! De Guiche [turning round]. Six? CYRANO DE BEROEEAC. 131 €wiANO [volubly]. First, with body naked as your hand, Festooned about with crystal flacons, full O' th' tears the early morning dew distills; My body to the sun's fierce rays exposed To let it suck me up, as 't sucks the dew! De Guiche [surprised, making one step towards Cyrano]. Ah! that makes one! Cyrano [stepping hack, and enticing Mm further away]. And then, the second way, To generate wind — for my impetus — To rarefy air, in a cedar case. By mirrors placed icosahedron-wise. De Guiche [making another step]. Two! Cyrano [still stepping backwards]. Or — for I have mechanic skill — To make a grasshopper, with springs of steel, And launch myself with quick succeeding fires Saltpeter-fed to the stars' pastures blue! De Guiche [unconsciously folloiving him and counting on h is fingers] . Three I Cyrano. Or (since fumes have property to mount) To charge a globe with fumes sufiiciently To carry me aloft! De Guiche [same play, more and more astonished^ Well, that makes four! Cyrano. Or smear myself with marrow from a bull, Since, the lowest point of Zodiac, Phoebus well loves to suck that marrow up! De Guiche [amazed]. Five! 12;^ CYRANO DE BERGERAC. €^ntANO [who^ while speaking 7md draum Mm to tlie other side of the square near a bench]. Sitting on an iron platform — thence To throw a magnet in the air. This is A method well conceived — the magnet flown, Infallibly the iron will pursue; Then quick! relaunch your magnet, and you thus Can mount and mount unmeasured distances! Db Guiche. Here are six excellent expedients! Which of the six choose you? Ctrano. Why, none! — a seventh! De GmcHE. Astonishing! What was it? Cyrano. I'll recount. Db Guiche. This wild eccentric becomes interesting! Ctrano [making a noise like the waves, with weird gestures]. HouUh! houtih! De Guiche. Well. Cyrano. You have guessed? Di Guiche. Not I! Cyrano. The tide! I' th' witching hour when the moon woos the wave, I laid me, fresh from a sea-bath, on the shore — And, failing not to put head foremost— for The hair holds the sea- water in its mesh — I rose in air, straight! straight!— like angel's flight, And mounted, mounted, gently, effortless, . . . When lo! a sudden shock! Then . . . De Guiche [overcome by curiosity, sitting down on the bench]. Then? Cyrano. Oh! then . . . [Suddenly returning to his natural voiee]. The quarter's gone— I'll hinder you no more. The marriage -vows are made. CYRANO BE BERQERAG. 1^3 De Guiche [springing up]. What? Am I madt That voice? [Tlie house door opens. Lackeys appear carryinf lighted candelabra. Light. Cyrano grac^/uUy uncovers.] That nose — Cyrano? Cyrano [bouring]. Cyrano. While we were chatting, they have plighted troth. De Guiche. Who? [He turns round. Tableau. Behind the lackeys ap- pear RoxANE and Christian, holding each other by the hand. The Friar follows them, smiling. Ragueneau also holds a candlestick. The Duenna closes the rear, beurildered, having made a hasty toilet. ] Heavens! SCENE XII. The Same. Roxane. Christian, the Friar, Ragub- NEAU, Lackeys, the Duenna. De Guiche [to Roxane]. You? [Recognizing Christian, in amazement.] He? [Bowing, with admiration, to Roxanb.] Cunningly contrived! [To Cyrano.] My compliments— Sir Apparatus-maker! Your story would arrest at Peter's gate Saints eager for their Paradise! Note well The details. 'Faith! They'd make a stirring bookl 124 CYRANO BE BERQEBAC, Cyrano \howing\. I shall not fail to follow your advice. The Friar [showing with satisfaction the two lovers to De Guiche]. A handsome couple, son, made one by you! De Guiche [with a freezing looW]. Ay! [To Roxane]. Bid your bridegroom, Madame, fond farewell. Roxane. Why so? De Guiche [to Christian]. Even now the regiment departs. Join it! Roxane. It goes to battle? De Guiche. Without doubt. Roxane. But the Cadets go not? De Guiche. Oh, ay! they go. [Drawing out the paper he had put in his pocket. 1 Here is the order. [To Christian.] Baron, bear it, quick! Roxane [throwing herself in Christian's arms']. Christian! De Guiche [sneeringly to Cyrano]. The wedding-night is far, methinksl Cyrano [aside]. He tninks to give me pain or death by this! Christian [to Roxane]. Oh! once again! Your lips! Cyrano. Come, come, enough! Christian [still kissing Roxane]. 'Tis hard to leave her, — you know not . . . Cyrano [trying to draw him away]. I know. [^und of drums heating a march in the distance.^ De Guiche. The regiment starts! UYUANO DE BMliGEliAU. 125^ RoxANE [to Cybano, holding hack Christian, u^hmn Cyrano is drawing away]. Oh! — I trust him you! Promise me that no risks shall put his life In danger! Cyrano. I will try my best, but promise . . . ThatT cannot! RoxANE. But swear he shall be prudent? Cyrano. Again, Til do my best, but . . . RoxANE. In the siege let him not suffer! Cyrano. All that man can do, I . . . RoxANE. That he shall be faithful! Cyrano. Doubtless, but . . . RoxANE. That he will write oft? Cyrano [pausing]. That— I promise you! Curtain. ACT IV. The Cadets of Gascony. Post oecupied by company of Carbon de Castel-Jaloux at the siege of Arras. At the background an embankment across the whole stage. Beyond, view of plain extending to the horizon. The country covered with intrenchments. The walls of Arras and the outlines of its roofs against the sky in the distance. Tents. Arms strewn about, drums, etc. Day is breaking with a faint glimmer of yellow sunrise in the east. Sen- tinels at different points. Watch-fires. The Cadets of Gascony, wrapped in their mantles, are sleeping. Carbon de Castel-Jaloux and Le Bret 126 CYRANO DE BERGERAG. are keeping watch. They are very pale and thin. Christian sleeps among the others in his cloak in the foregronnd, his face illuminated by the fire. Silence. SCENE I. Christian, Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, Le Bret, the Cadets, then Cyrano. Le Bret. 'Tis terrible. Carbon. Not a morsel left. Le Bret. Mordious ! Carbon [making a sign that he should speak lower]. Curse under your breath. You will awake them. [To the Cadets.] Hush! Sleep on. [To Le Bret.] He who sleeps, dines! Le Bret. But that is sorry comfort for the sleepless! . . . What starvation! [Firing is heard in the distance.] Carbon. Oh, plague take their firing! 'Twill wake my sons. [To the Cadets, who lift up their heads.] Sleep on! [Firing is'jagain heard, nearer this time.] A Cadet [moving]. The devil! . . . Again. Carbon. 'Tis nothing! 'Tis Cyrano coming back! {Those who have lifted up their heads prepare to si again.] A Sentinel [from unthout]. GTRANO DE BERQERAG. 127 Ventrebieu ! Who goes there ? The Voice of Cyrano. Bergerac. The Sentinel [who is on the redoubt]. Ventrebieu! Who goes there? Cyrano [appearing at the top]. Bergerac, idiot. [He comes down ; Le Bret advances anxiously to meet, him. ] Lk Bret. Heavens! Cyrano [making signs that he should not awake the others]. Hush! Le Bret. Wounded ? Cyrano. Oh! you know it has become their custom to shoot at me every morning and to miss me. Le Bret. This passes all! To take letters at each day's dawn. To risk . . . Cyrano [stopping before .Christian]. I promised he should write often. [He looks at him.] Ho sleeps. How pale he is! But how handsome still, despite his sufferings. If his poor little lady-love knew that he is dying of hunger . . . Le Bret. Get you quick to bed. Cyrano. Nay, never scold, Le Bret. I ran but little risk. I have found me a spot to pass the Spanish lines, where each night they lie drunk. Le Bret. You should try to bring us back provision. Cyrano. A man must carry no weight who would get by there! But there will be surprise for ug this night. The French will eat or die ... if I mis- take not! Le Bret. Oh! . . . tell me! ... Cyrano. Nay, not yet. I am not certain . . . You 1^38 CYRANO DE BERQERAG. will see! Garbon. It is disgraceful that we should starve while we're besieging! Le Bret. Alas, how full of complication is this siege of Arras! To think that while we are besieging, we should ourselves be caught in a trap and be- sieged by the Cardinal Infante of Spain. Cyrano. It were well done if he should be besieged im his turn. Le Bret. I am in earnest. Cyrano. Oh! indeed! Le Bret. To think you risk a life so precious . . . for the sake of a letter . . . Thankless one. {Seeing Mm tuiming to enter the tent.^ Where are you going ? Cyrano. I am going to write another. [He enters the tent and disappears. ] SCENE II. The Same, all hut Cyrano, llie day is breaking in a rosy light. The town of Arras is golden in the horizon. The report of cannon is heard in the distance, followed immediately by the beating, of drums far away to the left. Other drums are heard mv^h nearer. Sounds of stirring in the camp. Voices of officers in the distance. Carbon [sighing]. The reveille ! [The Cadets move and stretch themselves.^ Nourishing sleep! thou art at an end! . . . I know well what will be their first cry! A Cadet [sitting up]. I am so hungry.' Another. I am dying of hunger. CYRANO DE BEllGEUAC. 129 Together. Oh! Carbon. Up with you! Third Cadet. — Cannot move a limb. TouRTU Cadet. Nor can I. The First [looking at himself in a hit of armor]. My tongue is yellow. The air at this season of the year is hard to digest. A.NOTHER. My coronet for a bit of Chester! A.NOTHER. If none can furnish to my caster wherewith to make a pint of chyle, I shall retire to my tent — like Achilles! Another. Oh! something! were it but a crust! Carbon [going to the tent and calling softly^ Cyrano! All the Cadets. We are dying! Carbon [continuing to speak under his breath at the opening of the teiit]. Come to my aid, you, who have the art of quick retort and gay jest. Come, hearten them up. Second Cadet [rusJdng toward another who is munch- ing sometliing]. What are you crunching there? First Cadet. Cannon-wads soaked in axle-grease! 'Tis poor hunting round about Arras! A Cadet [entering]. I have been after game. Another [following him]. And I after fish. All [rushing to the two newcomers]. Well! what have you brought?— a pheasant? — a carp? — Come, show us quick! The Angler. A gudgeon! The Sportsman. A sparrow! a.LL TOGETHER [beside themselves]. 'Tis more than can be borne. We will mutiny! 130 (JYUAJSO BE BERQERAG. Carbon. Cyrano! come to my help. {The daylight has now come.^ SCENE III. The Same. Cyrano. Cyrano [appearing from the tent, very calm, with a pen stuck behind his ear, and a hook in his hand]. "What is wrong? [Silence.] [To the YmsT CjlDET.] Why drag you your legs so sorrowfully? The Cadet. I have something in my heels whick weighs them down. Cyrano. And what may that be? The Cadet. My stomach! Cyrano. So have I, 'faith! The Cadet. It must be in your way? Cyrano. Nay, I am all the taller. A Third. My stomach's hollow. Cyrano. 'Faith, 'twill make a fine drum to sound the assault. Another. I have a ringing in my ears. Cyrano. No, no, 'tis false; a hungry stomach has no ears. Another. Oh, to eat something— something oily! Cyrano [pulling off the Cadet's helmet and holding it out to him]. Behold your salad! Another. What, in God's name, can we devour? Cyrano [throiving him the hook which he is carrying].. The "Iliad." Another. The first minister in Paris has his four meals a day! CYRANO 1)E BERGERAG. 131 Cyrano. 'Twere courteous an he sent you a few partridges! Thp: Same. And why not? with wine;, tool Cyrano. A little Burgundy. Richelieu, sil voiis plait ! The Same. He could send it by one of his friars. Cyrano. Ay! by His Eminence Joseph himself. Another. I am as ravenous as an ogre! Cyrano. Eat your patience, then. The First Cadet [shrugging Ids shoulders]. Always your pointed word! Cyrano. Ay, pointed words! I would fain die thus, some soft summer eve. Making a pointed word for a good cause. —To make a soldier's end by soldier's sword, Wielded by some brave adversary — die (^n blood-stained turf, not on a fever-bed, A point upon my lips, a point within my heart. Cries from All, I'm hungry! Cyrano [crossing his arms]. All your thoughts of meat and drinki Bertrand the fifer!~you were shepherd once, — Draw from its double leathern case your fife, Play to these greedy, guzzling soldiers. Play Old country airs with plaintive rhythm recurring. Where lurk sweet echoes of the dear home-voices, Each note of which calls like a little sister. Those airs slow, slow ascending, as the smoke- wreaths Rise from the hearth-stones of our native hamlets, Their music strikes the ear like Gascon patois- .' . . . \T?ie old man seats himself, and gets his /lute ready.] 132 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. Your flute was now a. warrior in durance; But on its stem your fingers are a-dancing A bird -like minuet! O flute! Remember That flutes were made of reeds first, not laburnum; Make us a music pastoral days recalling— The soul-time of your youth, in country pas- tures! . . . [The old man begins to play the airs of Langiiedoc.l Hark to the music, Gascons! . . . 'Tis no longer The piercing fife of camp — but 'neath his fingers The flute of the woods! No more the call to com- bat, 'Tis now the love-song of the wandering goat- herds! . . . Hark! . . . 'tis the valley, the wet landes^ the forest, The sunburned shepherd-boy with scarlet heret, The dusk of evening on the Dordogne River, — 'Tis Gascony! Hark, Gascons, to the music! [The Cadets sit with bowed heads ; their eyes have a far-off look as if dreaming^ and they surrepti- tiously wipe away their tears with their cuffs and the corner of their cloaTcs.] Carbon [to Cyrano in a whisper]. But you make them weep! Cyrano. Ay, for home-sickness. A nobler pain than hunger, — 'tis of the soul, not of the body! I am 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]. CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 138 Not I. The hero that sleeps in Gascon blood is ever ready to awake in them. 'Twould suffice . . . [He makes a signal ; the drum beats.] All the Cadets [stand tip and rush to take arms]. What ? What is it ? Cyrano [smiling]. You seel One roll of the drum is enough! Good-by dreams, regrets, native land, love. . . . All that the pipe called forth the drum has chased away! A Cadet [looking toward the hack of the stage]. Ho! here comes Monsieur de Guiche. All the Cadets [muttering]. Ugh! . . . Ugh! . . . Cyrano [smiling]. A flattering welcome! A Cadet. We are sick to death of him! Another Cadet. — With his laee collar over his armor, playing the fine gentleman! Another. As if one wore linen over steel! The First. It were good for a bandage had he boil&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. . . . [^4// begin spreading out the games on the drums^ Ig4 CYMAjVO de bergerac. the stools, the ground, and on their 'cloaks, and light long pipes. ^ And I shall read Descartes. [He ivalks up and douni, reading a little hook ivhioh he has drawn from his pocket. Tableau. Enter De Guiche, All appear absorbed and happy. He is very pale. He goes up to Carbon.] SCENE TV. The Same. De Guiche. De Guiche [to Carbon]. Good-day! [They examine each other. Aside, with satisfaction.] 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; That the Cadets, these loutish, mountain-bred, Poor country squires, and barons of Perigord, Scarce find for me — their Colonel— a disdain Sufficient! call me plotter, wily courtier! It does not please their mightiness to see A point-lace collar on my 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 GuiciiE. So?— Ill faith! That will suffice. [Addressing Imnself to the CadkTS.] I can despise your taimt;s; 'Tis well known how I bear me in the war; At Bapaumo, yesterday, they saw the rage With which I beat back the Count of Bucquoi; Assembling my own men, I fell on his, And charged three separate times! Cyrano [without lifting his eyes from his hook]. And your white scarf ? De Guiche [surprised and gratified]. You know that detail? . . « Troth! It happened. thus: While caracoling to recall the troops For the third charge, a band 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 w^aked — to leave the foes, And suddenly returning, re-enforced With my own men, to scatter them! And now, — What say you, Sir? [Tlie Cadets pretend not to be listening, but the cards and the dice-h^mm remain suspended in their hands, the smoke of their pipes in their cheeks. Theij wait.] Cyrano. I say that Henri Quatre Had not, by any dangerous odds, been forced 136 CYRANO BE BERQERAC. To strip himself of his white helmet plume. [Silent delight. The cards fall, the dice rattle. Tlie smoke is puffed.] De Guiche. The ruse succeeded, though! [Same suspension of play, etc.] 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 smoke ivith 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 Guiche. 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 [drawing the scarf from Ms pocket, and hold- ing it out to him]. Here it is. [Silence. The Cadets stifle their laughter in their cards and dice-boxes. De Guiche turns and looks at them; they instantly become grave, and set to play. One of them whistles indifferently the air just played by theffer.] CYRANO BE BEROERAC. 137 D« GuiCHE [taking the scarf]. I thank you. It will now enabje me To make a siLjnal,— that I had forborne To make— till now. [He goes to the rampart, climbs it, and waves the sear/ thrice.] All. ^Vhat's that? The Sentinel [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 — To victual us— the 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 attack 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, ^ut they know nothing of it? De Guiche. Oh! they know. They will attack us. Carbon. Ah! 138 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. De Guiche. For my false spy- Came to warn me of their. attack. He said, " 1 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 jtnswered, "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 swords and belts being btickled.] 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 you love to fight against fivescore; You will not now complain of paltry odds. [He goes up with Carbon. ] Cyrano [to Cadets]. CYRANO BE BERGERAG. 139 We shall add to the Gascon coat of arms, With its six bars of blue and gold, one more— The blood- red bar that was a-missing there! [De Guiche speaks in a low voice ivith Carbon at the hack. Orders are given. Preparations go for- ward. Cyrano goes up to Christian, trho stands with crossed arms.l^ 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 draws a letter out of his doublet.] And had already writ . . . Christian. Show! Cyrano. Will you . . . ? Christian [taking the letter]. Ay! [He opens and reads it. ] Hold! Cyrano. What? Christian. This little spot! Cyrano [taking the letter icith 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? 140 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. 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 hiin.] We shall . . . [Quickly.] I mean, you . . . Christian [snatching the letter fro'm him]. Give me that letter! [A rumor ^ far off in the camp. J Voice of Sentinel. Who goes there? Hallo? [Shots — voices — carriage-hells.] Carbon. What is it? A Sentinel [on the rampart]. 'Tis a carriage! [All rush to see.] Cries. In the camp? It enters!— It comes from the enemy! — Fire!- No! — The coachman cries! — What does he say? — " On the King's service !" [Every one is on the rampart, staring. The hells 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 curtains are drawn close. Tw9 lackeys hehiiid. It is pulled up suddenly.] Carbon. Beat a salute! [A roll of drums. The Cadets unoover.] CYRANO BE BERGERAC. 141 De Guiche. Lower the carriage-steps! [ Two Cadets rush forward. The door opens. ] RoxANE [jumping down from the carriage]. Good-day ! [All are hoiving to the ground, hut at the sound of a woman'' s voice every head is instantly raised.] SCENE V. TJie Same. Roxane. De Guiche. On the King's service! You ? Roxane. Ay, — King Love's! What other king? Cyrano. Great God! Christian [rushing forward]. Why have|yoii come ? ^ Roxane. This siege— 'tis too long! Christian. But why ? . . . Roxane. I will tell yoM all! Cyrano [who, at the sound of her voice, has stood still, rooted to the ground, afraid to raise his eyes]. My God! dare I look at her? De Guiche. You cannot remain here! Roxane [merrily]. But I say yes! Who will push a drum hither for me ? [She seats herself 07i the drum they roll forward.] So! I thank you. [She laughs.] My carriage was fired at [proudly] by the 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 Qnui^Tik^.] Good-morrow! [Examin- ing them all.] Ton look not merry, any of you! Ah! know you that 'tis a long road to get to Arras? [Seeing Cyrano.] Cousin, delighted! 142 CYRANO BE BEBGERAG. Cyrano [coming up to Tier]. But how, in Heaven's name ? . . . RoxANE. How found I the way to the army ? It was simple enough, for I had but to pass on and on, as far as I saw the country laid waste. Ah! what horrors were there! Had I not seen, then I could never 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! i>E 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 gen- tlemen 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 Spaniard of them all would gravely shut the car- riage-door, and, 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 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 143 that the plumes might flutter bravely, he would bow low, saying to me, " Pass on, Senorital" Christian. But, Roxane . . . RoxANE, Forgive me that I said " my lover !"' But be- think you, had I said "my husband" not one of them had let me pass! Christian. But ... Roxane. What ails you ? De Gcighe. 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 ? Christian [embarrassed]. 'Tis that . . . Cyrano [tJie same]. —In three-quarters of an hour . . . De Gl'ICHE [the same]. — Or four . . . CATiBO^i [the same]. It were best . . . Le Bret [the same]. You might . . . Roxane. You are going to fight ?— I stay here. All. No, no! Roxane. He is my husband! [She throws h.erself into Christian's arms.] They shall kill us both together! Christian. Why do you look at me thus ? Roxane. I will tell you why! De Gciche [in despair]. Tis a post oft mortal danger I Roxane [turning round]. Mortal danger? Cyrano. Proof enough, that he has put us here! Roxane [to De Guiche]. 144 CYRANO BE BERQERAG. 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 Bergerac, I am your cousin. A Cadet. We will defend you well! RoxANE {more and more excited]. I have no fear of that, my 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 battle-field! {Looking at De Guiche. J 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! " RoxANE. Never! [De Guiche goes out.'] SCENE VI. The Same, all hut De Guiche. Christian {entreatingly]. Roxane! Roxane. No! First Cadet {to the other s']. She stays! All {hurrying, hustling each other, tidying them- selves]. A comb! — Soap! — My uniform is torn! — A needle! — A ribbon!— Lend your mirror! — My cuflEs! — Your curling iron! — A razor! . . . CYRANO BE BERGEEAC. 14^ RoxANE [to Cyrano, who still pleads with her]. No! Naught shall make me stir from this spot! Carbon [w/io, like tJie others, has been huckling, dusting, brushing his hat, settling his plume, and draw- ing on his cuffs, advances to Roxane, and cere- moniouslij]. It is perchance more seemly, since things are thus, that I present to you some of these gentlemen who are about to have the honor of dying before your eyes. [Roxane bows, and stands leaning 07i Christian's a7'm, ■while Carbon introduces the Cadets to her.] Baron de Peyrescous de Colignac! The Cadet [with a low reverence]. Madame . . . Carbon [continuing]. Baron de Casterac de Cahuzae, — Vidame de Malgouyre Estressac Lesbas d'Escara- biot. Chevalier d'xUitignac — 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. Roxane [opens her hand, and the handkerchief falls]. Why? [The whole company starts forward to pick it up.] Carbon [quickly raising it]. My company had no flag. But now, by my faith, they will have the fairest in all the camp! Rox.\NE [smiling]. 'Tis somewhat small. Carbon [tying the handkerchief on the staff of his lance]. But— 'tis of lace 1 146 CYRANO DE BERGERAG. 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, ] A Cadet. All that? Another. But where on earth find it? Roxane [quietly]. In my carriage. All. How? Roxane. 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 [rus7ii7ig pellmell to the carriage]. 'Tis Kagueneau! [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! Ragueneau. . . . The Spaniards, gating on a lady so dainty fair, overlooked the fare so dainty! . . , [Applause.] Cyrano [in a ichisper to Christian]. Hark, Christian! CYRANO BE BERGERAC. 147 Ragueneau. . . . And, occupied with gallantry, perceived not — [Zfe draws a plate from under the seat and holds it up^ — The galantine I . . . [Applause. The yalantine passes fro m hand to hand. ] Cyrano [still whispering to Christian]. Pry thee, one word! Ragueneau. And Venus so attracted their eyes that Diana could secretly pass by with— [ITe holds up a shoulder of mutton] — her fawn! [Enthusiasm. Twenty hands are held out to seize the shoulder of mutton. ] Cyrano [in a low whisper to Christian]. I must speak to you! Roxane [to the Cadets, u'?io come down, their arms laden with food]. Put it on the ground! [She lays all out on the grass, aided by the tivo imper- turbable lackeys who were 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 in- creases.] Ragueneau. Truffled peacock! First Cadet [radiant, coming down, cutting a big slice of ham]. By the mass! We shall not brave the last hazard without having had a gullet-full! — [quickly correcting himself on seeing Roxane] — Pardon! — a Balthazar feast! Ragueneau [thronging down the carriage cushions]. The cushions are stuffed with ortolans! [Hubbub. They tear open and turn out the contents of the cushions. Bicrsts of laughter — merriment.] 148 CYBANO BE BERGERAC. Ragueneau [throwing down to the Cadets bottles of red wine]. Flasks of rubies! — \and white wine]— Flasks of topaz! RoxANE {throwing a folded tablecloth at Cyrano's head]. Unfold me that napkin!— Come, come! be nimble! Ragueneau [moving 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! RoxANE [pouring out tvi7ie, Jielping]. 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 so good! . . . RoxANE. Tut!— Red or white ?— Some bread for Mon- sieur de Carbon!— a knife! Pass your plate! — a little of the crust? Some more? Let me help you! — Some champagne ?— A wing ? Cyrano [who follows her, his arms laden with dishes, helping her to wait on everybody]. How I worship her! RoxANE [going up to Christian]. What will you ? Christian. Nothing. RoxANE. Nay, nay, take this biscuit, steeped in mus- cat; come! . . . but two drops! Christian [trying to detain her]. Oh! tell me why you came? CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 149 EOXANE. Wait ; my first duty is to these poor fellows. Hush I— In a few minutes . . . Le Bret [wJio had (jo)ie up to pass a loaf on the end of a lance to the sentry on the rampart]. De Gniohe! Cyrano. Quick! hide flasks, plates, pie-dishes, game- baskets! Hurry! — Let us all look unconscious! [To Ragueneau.] Up on your seat!— Is everything covered up? {In an instant all has been pushed iiito the tents, or hidden under doublets, cloaks, and beavers. De Guiche e7ite7's hurriedly, — staps suddenly, sniff- ing the air. Silence.] SCENE VII. The Same. De Guiche. De Guiche. It smells good here. A Cadet [humming]. Lo! lo-lo! De Guiche [looking ai him]. AVhat is the matter?— You are very red! The Cadet. The matter ?— Nothing!— 'Tis my blood— boiling at the thought of the coming battle! Another. Poum, poum— poum . . . De Guiche [turning round]. What's that? The Cadet [.slightly drunk]. Nothing! . . . 'Tis a song!— a little! . . . De Guiche. You are merry, my friend! The Cadet. The approach of danger is intoxicating! De Guiche. [calling Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, to give him an order]. Captain! I . . . 150 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. {He stops short on seeing 7dm.] Plague take me I but you look bravely, too! Carbon [crimson in the face, hiding a bottle behind his back, tvith an evasive movement]. Obi . . De Guiche. I have one cannon left, and have had it carried there — [He points behind the scenes] — in that corner: . . . Your men can use it in case of need. A Cadet [reeling slightly]. Charming attention! Another [with a gracious smile]. Kind solicitude! De Guiche. How ? they are all gone crazy ! [Bryly.] 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 aeid shaking Jiifn]. You are tipsy! — but what with ? The Cadet [grandiloquently]. — With the smell of powder! De Guiche [shrugging his shoulders and pushing him away, t?ien going quickly to Roxane]. [take? . . . Briefly, Madame, what decision do you deign to PvOXANE. I stay here. De Guiche. You must fly! FwOXANE. No! I will stay. De Guiche. Since things are tlius, give me a musket, one of you ! Carbon. Wherefore? De Guiche. Because I too— mean to remain. CYRANO UE BERGERAC. 151 Cyrano. At last! This is true valor, Sir! First Cadet. Then you are a Gascon after all, spite of your lace collar? RoxANE. AThat is all this ? De Guiche. I leave no woman in peril. t Second Cadet [to the first]. Hark you! Think you not we might give him something to eat ? [All the viands reappear as if by magie.] De Guiche [whose eyes sparkle]. Victuals! The Ihiiid 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. De Guiche [proudly, with alight touch of accent on the word ''■breaking'''']. I will fight without hr-r- eaking my fast! First Cadet [wild with delight]. Br-r-r-eakiugl He has got the accent! 'Die.QviCYiE [laughing]. I? The Cadet. Tis a Gascon! [All begin to dance.] Carbon de Castel-Jaloux [who had disappeared be- hind the rampart, reappearing 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 tvhich are seen over the ridge.] De Guiche [bowing to Roxane]. 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.] 152 CYRANO BE BERQERAG, Ohbi^tun [going to Cyrano, eagerly]. Tell me quickly! [As RoxANE appears on the ridge, the tops of the lances disappear, lowered for the salute^ and a shout is raised. She bows.] The Pikemen [outside]. 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 great matter, — I but thought of it to-day on seeing her. You have . . . Christian. Tell quickly! Cyrano. You have . . . written to her oftener than you think '. . . Christian. How so ? Cyrano. Thus, 'faith! I had taken it in hand to ex- press your flame for you! ... At times I wrote without saying, " I am writing!" Christian. Ah ! Cyrano. 'Tisisimple enough! Chriotian. But how did you contrive, since we have been cut off, thus ... to ... ? Cyrano. ... Oh! before dawn ... I was able to g»t through . . . Christian [folding his a7'ms]. That was simple, too? And how oft, pray yoii, have I written? . . . Twice in the week? . . . Three times? . . . Four? . . . CYRANO DE BEROERAg, 153 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 . . . Cyrano [seeing Roxane returning]. Hush! Not before her! [He goes hurriedly into his tent.] SCENE VIII. Roxane, Christian. In the distance Cadets coining and going. Carbon and De Guiche give orders, 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 risksl Your letters turned my head! Ah! all this mouth, How many! — and the last one ever bettered The one that went before! 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 revoaled your soul- Ah! ever since I have adoi-cd vou! Now 154 CYRANO BE BEROEHAG. . Your letters all this whole month loug! — meseemed 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 n'er have stayed to broider on her hearth- stone. 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 Heleu! Christian. But . . . EOXANE. 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 . . . Christian. A love sincere! Can that be felt, Koxane? RoxANE. Ay, that it can! Christian. You come . . . ? RoxANE. 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 finst I loved you only for your face! Christian [horror-stricken]. Roxane! RoxANE. And later, love— less frivolous — Like a bird that spreads its wings, but cannot fly— CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 155 Arrested by your beauty, by your soul Drawn close— I loved for both at once! Christian. And now? ROXANE. Ah I you yourself have triumphed o'er yourself, And now, I love you only for your soul! Christian [stepping backward]. Roxane! RoxANE. 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 [pained]. Roxane! 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! be loved henceforth in a better way! 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! AYere your brilliance dimmed . . . Christian. Hush! Roxane. T should love still! Ay, if your beauty should to-day depart . . . 156 CYRANO BE BEROERAC. Christian. Say not so! KoxANE. Ay, I say it! Christian. Ugly? How? RoxANE. Ugly! I swear I'd love you still! Christian. My God ! RoxANE, Are you content at last? Christian [in a choked voice]. Ay! . . . RoxANE. What is wrong? Christian [gently pushing her away]. Nothing. ... I have two words to say:— one second . . . ROXANE. 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! RoxANE [deeply affected^. Dear Christian! . . . [She goes up to the Cadets, who respectfully crowd round her.] SCENE IX. Christian, Cyrano. At hack Roxane talking to Car- bon and some Cadets. Christian [calling toward Cyrano's tent]. Cyrano! Cyrano [reappeaHng^ fully armed]. What? Why so pale? Christian. She does not love me! Cyrano. What? CYRANO BE BERGERAU. 157 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 you, . . . Therefore, 'tis you she loves! — And you — love her! Cyrano. I? Christian. Oh, I know it! Cyrano. Ay, t'is true! Christian. You love To madness! Cyrano. Ay, and worse i Christian. Then tell her so! Cyrano. No! Christian. And why not? Cyrano. Look at my face!— be answered! Christian. She'd love me — were I ugly. Cyrano. Said she so? Christian. Ay, in those words! Oyrano. 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 beg! Christian. Ay! she shall choose between us! — Tell her all! 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! 158 CYRANO BE BERGERAG. Cyrano. And I, — because by Nature's freak I have The gift to say — all that perchance you feel, Shall I be fatal to your happiness ? Christian. Tell all ! 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. Our 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 Cod! [He calls. ] Roxane I Cyrano. No! no! Roxane [coming up quickly]. What? Christian. Cyrano has things Important for your ear. . . . [She hastens to Cyrano. Christian goes out.] SCENE X. Roxane, Cyrano. Then Le Bret, Carbon de Castel- Jaloux, the Cadets, Ragueneau, De Guiche, etc. Roxane. Important, how? CYRANO BE BERGERAG. 159 Cyrano [in despair. To Roxane]. He's gone: 'Tis naught!— Oh, you know how lie sees Importance in a trifle! Roxane [ivarmhj]. Did he doubt Of what I said ?— Ah, yes, I saw be doubted! Cyrano [taking her hand]. But are you sure you told him all the trnth? Roxane. Yes, I wouli love him were he . . . [She hesitates. ] Cyrano. Does that word Embarrass you before my face, Roxane ? Roxane. I . . . Cyrano [smiling sadly]. 'Twill not hurt me! Say it! If he were Ugly! . . . Roxane. Yes, ugly! [Muske report outside.] Hark! I hear a shot! Cyrano [ardently]. Hideous! Roxane. Hideous! yes! Cyrano. Disfigured. Roxane. Ay! Cyrano. Grotesque? Roxane. He could not be grotesque to me! Cyrano. You'd love the same ? . . . Roxane. The same— nay, even more! Cyrano [losing command over himself— aside]. My God! it's true, perchance, love waits me therel To Roxane. I . . . Roxane . . . listen . . . Le Bret [entering hurriedly — to Cyrano]. 160 CYRANO DE BERGERAC. Cyrano! Cyrano \turnmg round]. What? Le Bret. Hush! {He whispers something to him.] Cyrano [letting go Koxane's hand and exclaiming]. Ah, God! RoxANE. What is it ? Cyrano [to himself— stunned]. All is over, now. [Renewed reports.] ROXANE. What is the matter? Hark! another shot! [She goes up to look outside.] Cyrano. It is too late, now I can never tell! RoxANE [trying to rush out]. What has chanced ? Cyrano, [rushing to stop her]. Nothing! [Some Cadets i^nter, trying to hide something they are carrying^ and close round it to prevent Rox- ane approaching.] RoxANE. And those men ? Cyrano [drawing her away]. Let be! — ROXANE. What were you just about to say before . . . ? Cyrano. What was I saying ? Nothing now, I swear! [Solemnly.] I swear that Christian's soul, his nature, were . c » [Hastily correcting himself.] Nay, that they are, the noblest, greatest . . • RoxiNE. Were ? [With a loud scream.] Oh! CTRANO DE BERGERAC. 161 [She rushes up, ptcshing every one aside.] Cyrano. All is over now! RoxANE [seeing Christian lying oii the ground, wrapped in his cloak]. O Christian! Le Bret [to Cyrano J. Struck by the first shot of the enemy ! [RoxANE flings herself down by Christian. Fresh reports of cannon— clash of arms — clamor — heating of drums. ] Carbon [with sword in the air]. They come! your muskets. [Followed by the Cadets, he passes to the other side of the ramparts. Roxane. Christian! The Voice of Carbon [from the other side]. Ho! make haste! Roxane. Christian! Carbon. Form line ! Roxane. Christian! Carbon. Handle your match ! [Ragueneau rushes up, bringing water in a helmet.] Christian [//2 a dying voice]. Roxane! Cyrano [quickly, ivhispering into Christian's ear, while Rox- ane distractedly tears apiece of linen from his breast, which she dips into the water, trying to staunch the bleeding]. I told her all. She loves you still. [Christian closes his eyes,] Roxane. How, my sweet love? Carbon. Draw ramrods f 162 CYRANO DE BEmEBAC. RoxANE [to Cyrano]. He is not dead? Carbon. Open your charges with your teeth / RoxANE. His cheek Grows cold against my own! Carbon. Beady ! Present ! RoxANE [seeing a letter in Christian's doublet]. A letter! . . . 'Tis for me! [She opens it. ] Cyrano [aside\ My letter! Carbon. Fire ! [Musket reports — shouts — noise of battle. ] Cyrano [ti-ying to disengage his hand, which Roxanp 071 her knees is holding]. But, Roxane, hark, they fight! 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? Cyrano. Ay, Roxane. Roxane. And a mind sublime? Cyrano. Oh, yes! Roxane. A heart too deep for common minds to plumb, A spirit subtle, charming? Cyrano [fii-mly]. Ay, Roxane. Boxane [ flinging herself on the dead body]. Dead, my love! CYRANO BE BEROERAG. 163 Cyrano [aside — drawing his sword]. Ay, and let me die to-day, Since, all unconscious, she mourns me — in himi [Sounds of trumpets in the distance.] De Guiche [appearing on the ramparts — bareheaded — u'itli a wound on his forehead — in a voice of thunder]. It is the signal! Trumpet flourishes! The French bring the provisions into camp! Hold but the place awhile! RoxANE. See, there is blood Upon the letter — tears! A Voice [outside — shouting]. Surrender! Voice of Cadets. No! Raguenead [standing on the top of his carriage ivatches the battle over the edge of the ramparts]. The danger's ever greater! Cyrano [to De GvicuE—pointi}ig to Roxane]. I will charge! Take her away! Roxane [kissing the letter — in a half-extinguished voice]. O God! his tears! his blood! . . . Ragueneau [jumping down from the carnage and rushing toward her]. She's swooned away I De Guiche [on the rampart — to the Cadets — with fury]. Stand fast! A Voice [outside]. Lay down your arms! The Cadets. No! Cyrano [to De Guiche]. Now that you have proved your valor, Sir, [Pointing to Roxane.] Fly, and save her! De Guiche [rushing to Roxane, and carrying herawoiQ 164 CYRANO BE BEROERAG. in his arms]. So be it! Gain but time, The victory's ours! Cyrano. Good. [Calling out to Roxane, whom De Guiche, aided by Eagceneau, is hearing away in a fainting con- dition.] Tarewell, Roxane! [ Tuimdt. Shouts. Cadets reappear, wounded, fall- ing on the scene. Cyrano, rushing to the battle, is stopped by Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, who is streaming ivith blood.] Carbon. We are breaking! I am wounded— wounded twice! Cyrano [shouting to the Gascons]. Gascons ! Ho, Gascons! Never turn your backs! [To Carbon ivhom he is supporting.] Have no fear! I have two deaths to avenge; My friend who's slain;— and my dead happiness! ^They come doivn — Cyrano brandishing the lance to which is attached Roxane's handkerchief] Float there! laced kerchief broidered with her name! [He sticks it in the ground and shouts to the Cadets.] Fall on them, Gascons ! Crush them f [To the FiFER.] Fifer, play! [The fife plays. The wounded try to rise. Some Cadets, falling one over the other down the slope, group themselves round Cyrano and the little fi,ag. The carriage is crowded with men inside and outside, and, bristling ivith arquebuses, is turned into a fortress.] A Cadet [appearing on the crest, beaten backward^ CYRANO DE BERGERAC. 166 but still fighting^ cries] They're climbing the redoubt! [and falls dead.] Cyrano. Let us salute them! [The rampart is covered instantly by a formidable ro2v of e7ie?nies. ITie standards of the Imperial- ists are raised. ] Fire! [General discharge.] A Cry in the Enemy's Ranks. Fire! [A steady answering volley. The Cadets fall on all sides. ] A Spanish Officer [tincovering]. Who are these men who rush on death? Cyrano [reciting, erect, amid a storm of bullets]. The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux! Brawling, swaggering boastfully, [He rushes forward, followed by a few survivors.] The bold Cadets . . . [His voice is drowned in the battle.] Curtain. 166 CYBANO BE BEEGERAG. 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 enormous 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 fore- ground behind the boxwood. It is autumn. All the foliage is red against the fresh green of the lawns. The gre«n boxwood and yews stand out dark. Under each tree a patch of yellow leaves. The stage is strewn with dead leaves, which rustle under foot in the alleys, and half cover the steps and benches. CYRANO DK BKRGklRAC. . IC; Between the benches on the right hand and the tvee a large embroidery irame, in front of which a little chair has been set. Baskets full of skeins and balls of wool. A tapestry begun. A.t the rising of the curtain nuns are walking to and fro in the park; some are seated on tb^ bench around an older Sister. rhe leaves are falling. SCENE I. Mother Marguerite, Sister Martha, Sister Claire, other Sisters. Bister 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 Martha take a plum Out of the tart 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! 168 CYRANO DE BERGERAG. Mother Marguerite [smiling]. 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 more! 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! Sister Martha. He only has the skill to turn her mind From grief — un softened yet by Time — unhealed! 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! 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! 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 la?^t time he came, Food had not passed his lips for two whole dayil CYRANO BE BERQBRAQ. 169 Sister Martha. Mother! Mother Marguerite. He's poor. Sister Martha. Who told you so, dear Mother!? Mother Marguerite. Monsieur le Bret. Sister Martha. None help him? Mother Marguerite. He permits not, \In an alley at the hack Roxane appears, dressed in black, with a ividow's coif and veil. De Guiche, imposing -looking and visibly aged, walks by her side. They saunter slowly. Mother Marguer- ite rises]. 'Tistime we go in; Madame Madeline AValks in the garden with a visitor. SisT^iR Martha [to Sister Claire, in a low voice]. The Marshal of Grammont? Sister Claire [looking at him]. 'Tis he, I think. Sister Martha. 'Tis many months now since he came to see her. The Sisters. He is so busy : -The Court, — the camp! . . . Sister Claire. The world! [They go out. De Gciche and Roxane come forward in silence, and stop close to the embroidery frame.'] SCENE II. Roxane; the Duke De Grammont, formerly Count D£ Guiche. TJien Le Bret and Raguenkau. The Duke. And you stay here still— ever vainly fair, Ever in weeds? 1 70 C TRA NO I) E B ERG ERA C. EoxANE. Ever. The Dukb. Still faithful? KOXANE. Still. The Duke [after apaiise]. Am I forgiven? KoxANE. Ay, since I am here. \ Another pause.] The Duke. His was a soul, you say? . . . BoxANE. Ah! — when you knew him! The Duke. Ah, may be! . . . I, perchance, too little knew him . . . And his last letter, ever next your heart? ROXANE. Hung from this chain, a gentle scapulary. The Duke. And, dead, you love him still ? RoxANE. At times, — meseems He is but partly dead, — our hearts still speak, As if his love, still living, wrapped me round! 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 IJe mocks my tapestry that's never done; He tells me all the gossip of the week . [Le Bret appears oh the steps.^ Why, h«re's Lc Bret! [Ju'S.'BiSiKi: descends.] CYRANO BE BEROERAG. 1 7 1 How goes it with our friend ? Lr Bret. 111!— very ill. The Duke. IIow? RoxANE [to the DuKEJ. He exaggerates! Le Bret. All that I prophesied: desertion, want! . . . His letters now make him fresh enemiesl — Attacking the sham nobles, sham devout, Sham brave, — the thieving authors, — all the world! ROXANK. Ah! but his sword still holds them all in cheek; !None get the better of him. Thb Duke [shaking his head]. Time will show! Le Bret. Ah, but I fear for him — not man's attack, — Solitude — hunger— cold December days, 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: Thnf I oor nose— tinted like old ivory: He has retained one shabby suit of serge. Thb Duke. Ay, there is one who has no prize of Fortune! — Yet is not to be pitied! Le Bret [with a hitter smile]. My Lord Marshal! . . . The Dcke. 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 [haughtily]. True? I have all, and he has nauEcht; . . . 172 CYRANO DE BERQERAC. Yet I were proud to take his hand! ^Bowing to Koxane.] Adieu! RoxANE. I go with you. \^T7ie Duke hows to Le Bret, and goes with Roxane toward the steps.] The Duke [pausing, while she goes up]. Ay, true,— I envy him. Look you, 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 Dukes' furred mantles trail within their folds A sound of dead illusions, vain regrets, A rustle— scarce a whisper, — like as when, Mounting the terrace steps, your mourning robe Sweeps in its train the dying autumn leaves. HoxANE [ironically]. You are pensive ? The Ddke. True! I am! [As he is going out, suddenly.] Monsieur Le Bret! .[2o Roxane.] A word, with your permission ? [He goes to Le Bret, 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 may die— by accident!" Let him stay in — be prudent! Le Bret [raising his nrms to heaven]. Prudent! He! . . . GYRANO BE BERGERAC. i:;j He's coming here. Til warn him — but! . . . RoxANE ivlio lias stayed on the steps, to a Sister who comes toward Jie?']. What is it? The Sister. Rageneau would see you, Madame. HoxANE. Let him come. [To the Duke and Le Bret.] He comes to tell his troubles. Having been An author (save the mark!) — poor fellow, — uar By turns he's singer . . . Le Bret. Bathing-man . . . RoxANE. Then actor . . . Le Bret. Beadle . . . RoxANE. TTig-maker . , . Le Bret. Teacher of the lute . . . RoxANE. What will he be to-day, by chance ? Ragueneau [entering hurriedly]. Ah! Madame! [He sees Le Bret. ] Ah! you here, Sir! RoxANE [smiling]. Tell all your miseries] To him; I will return anon. Ragueneau. But, Madame . . . [RoxANE goes out luith the Duke. He goes toward Le Bret.] SCENE in. Le Bret, Ragueneau. Ragueneau. 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 174 CYRANO BE BEBGERAG. Gro out. I hurried to him. Saw him turn , The eoruer . . . 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! Eagueneau. I ran— I saw . . , Le Bret. 'Tis hideous! Rageneau. Saw our poet, Sir— our friend — Struck to the ground, — a large wound ia his head! Le Bret. He's dead ? Ragueneau. No — but — I bore him to his room . . . Ah! his room! What a thing to see! — that garret! Le Bret. He suffers ? Ragueneau. No; his consciousness has flown. Le Bret. Saw you a doctor ? Ragueneau. One was kind—he came. Le Bret. My poor Cyrano! — We must not tell this To Roxane suddenly.— What said this leech ?— Ragueneau. Said, — what, I know not — fever, meningitis! — Ah! could you see him — all his head bound up! — But let us haste! — There's no one by his bed! — And if he try to rise, Sir, he might die! Ragueneau [dragging him toward the right] . Come! Through the chapel! 'Tis the quickest way! Roxane [appearing on the steps, and seeing Le Bret §0 away by the colonnade leading to the chapel doer]. Monsieur Le Bret! [Le Beet and Ragueneau disappear without answer- ing]. Le Bret goes — when I call! Tis some new trouble of good Ragueneau's. [She descends the steps.] CYRANO BE BERGERAG. 175 SCENE IV. RoxANE alone. Two Sisters, for a moment. RoxANE. Ah! What a beauty in September's close! My sorrow's eased. April's joy dazzled it, But autumn wins it with her dying calm. {^She seats herself at the embroidery frame. Two Sisters come out of the house, and bring a lar§e armehair under the tr»e. ] There comes the famous armchair where he sits, Dear faithful friend! Sister Martha. It is the parlor's best! RoxANE. Thanks, sister. [The Sisters go.} He'll be here now. [She 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 hira. [A pause.'] Yes, she must be preaebing! Surely he must come soon! — Ah, a dead leaf! — [She brushes off the leaffro-m her work.] Nothing, besides, could — scissors?— In my bag! — Could hinder him . . . A BiSTER [coming to the steps]. Monsieur de Bergerac 17€ CYRANO BE BERQERAC. SCENE V. BoxANE [without turning round]. What was I saying? . . . [She embroiders. Cyrano, very pale, his hat pulled down over his eyes, appears. The Sister who had announced him retires. He descends the steps slowly, with a visible difficulty in holding him- self upright, bearing heavily on his cane. Kox- ANE still works at her taf ' lime has dimmed the tint How harmonize them now* {To Cyrano, with playful reproaeh.] For the first time Late!— For the first time, all these fourteen yearsl Cyrano. [who has succeeded in reaching the chair, and has seated himself— in a lively voice, which is in great contrast with his pale face.] Ay! It is villainous! I raged— was stayed . . . Roxane. By? . . . Cyrano. By a bold, unwelcome yisitor. Roxane [absently, working]. Some creditor? Cyrano. Ay, cousin, — the last creditor Who has a debt to claim from me. Roxane. And you have paid it? C?YRAN0. 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 tim© !'* Kdxane [carelessly]. Oh, well, a creditor can always wait! I shall not let you go ere twilight falle^. CYRANO DE BEROERAC. 1?7 Cyrano. Haply, perforce, I quit you ere it falls! [He shuts his eyes, and is silent for a moment. Sis- ter Martha crosses the park from the chapel to the flight of steps. Roxane, seeing her, signs tQ her to approach.^ Roxane [to Cyrano]. How now? You have not teased the Sister? Cyrano [hastily opening his eyes]. True! [In a comically loud voice.] Sister! come here! [The Sister glides up to him.] Ha! ha! What? Those bright eyes Bent ever on the' ground? Sister Martha [who makes a movement of astonish- ment on seeing his face]. Oh! Cyrano [in a ivhisper, pointing to Roxane]. Hush! 'tis naught! — [Loudly y 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 [who hears ihem ivhispering]. The Sister would convert you? Sister Martha. Nay, not I! Cyrano. Hold! but it's true! You preach to me no more, You, once so glib with holy words! I am Astonished! . . . 178 CYRANO DE BERGERAG. [With 'burlesque fury .\ Stay, I will surprise you too! Hark! I permit you . . . \He pretends to he seeking for something to tease her with^ and to have found it. ] ... It is somethinf]^ new! — To— pray for me, to-night, at chapel-time! EoxANE. Oh! oh! Cybano [laughing]. Go»d Sister Martha is struck dumb! SiSTEK Martha [gently]. I did not wait your leave to pray for you. [^lie goes out.] Cyrano [turning to Roxane, ivho is still bending oner her work]. That tapestry! Beshrew me if my eyes Will ever see it finished! Roxane. I was sure To hear that well-known jest! [A light breeze causes the leaves to fall.'] Cyrano. The autumn leaves! EoxANE [lifting her head, and looking dovm tTie dis* tant alley]. Soft golQcii brown, like a Venetian's hair. — See how they fall! Cyrano. 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 [eoUecting himself]. Nay, nay, Roxane! CYRANO BE BERG ERA C. 1 "^ ROXANE. Then let the dead leaves fall the way they will . . . And chat. What, have you nothing new to tell, My " Court Gazette?" Cyrano, Listen. RoxANE. Ah! 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 Austriaas. Four sorcerers were hanged. The little dog Of Madame d'Athis took a dose . . . Roxane. I bid You hold your tongue. Monsieur de Bergerac! Cyrano. Monday — not much — Claire changed protector. Roxane. Oh ! Cyrano \u)hose face changes more and more], Tuesday, the Court repaired to Fontainebleau. Wednesday, the Montglat s^id to Comte de Fiesque . . . No! Thursday — Maneini, Queen of Franv5e! (almost/) Friday, the Montglat to Count Fiesque said — "Yes!" And Saturday the twenty-sixth . . . [Me closes his eyes. Ni3 head falls forwavd. SilenGe.] BoxANE [surprised at his voice ceasing, turns round, looks at him, and rising, terrif^]. 180 CYRANO J)E BERG EB AG. H€ swoons! [She runs toward him crying.] Cyrano! Cyrano [opening his eyes, in an unconcernea voice]. What is this ? [He sees Roxane bending over him, and, hastily pressing his hat on his head, and shrinking hack in his chair. ] Nay, on my word 'Tis nothing! Let me be! BOXANE. But . . . 0YRANO. 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! ROXANE. Each of us has his wound; ay, I have mine, — Never healed up— not healed yet, my old wound! [She 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 neck]. See! here it is! CYRANO DE BERGERAC. y^ Cyrano [taking it]. Have I your leave to open ? RoxANE. Open— read! [She comts hack to her tapestry frame ^ folds it up, sorts her wools. ] Cyrano [reading]. " Roxane, 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, longing eyes will feast On your least gesture — ay, the least! I mind me the way you touch your cheek With your finger, softly, 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 thi&k . . Cyrano [continuing to read]. " My life, my love, my jewel, my sweet, My heart has been yours in every beat!" [The shades of evening fall imperceptibly.^ Roxane. You read in such a voice— so strange — and yet — It is not the first time I hear that voice!" [She comes nearer very softly^ without his perceiving it, passes behind his chair, and, noiselessly lean- ing over him, looks at the letter'. The darknms deepens. ] Cyrano. " Herp, dying, and there, in the land on high, I am he who loved, who loves you, — I ..." 183 CYRANO DE BERGERAG. RoxANE Ijputting her Jmnd 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. Tfien in the dusk, which has tiow completely enfolded them^ she says, very slowly, with clasped hands.] And, fourteen years long, he has played this part Of the kind old friend who comes to laugh aiMl chat! Cyrano. Roxane! RoxANE. 'Twas you! Cyrano. No, never; Roxane, no! Roxane. I should have guessed, each time he said my name! Cyrano. No; it was not I! Roxane. It was you! Cyrano. I swear! Roxane. I see through all the generous counterfeit — The letters— you! Cyrano. No. Roxane. The sweet, mad love- words! You! Cyrano. No! Roxane. The voice that thrilled the night — you, ycm! 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 BE BEROEUAC. 183 Cyrano. No! RoiANE. See! how you falter now! Cyrano. No, my sweet love, I never loved you! RoxANE. Ah! Things dead, long dead, see! how they rise again! — Why, why keep silence all these fourteen years, When, on this letter, which ho never wrote, The tears were your tears ? Cyrano [fiolding out the letter to her]. The bloodstains were his. ROIANE. Why, then, that noble silence, — kept so long — Broken to-day for the first time — why ? Cyrano. Why? . . . [Le Bret and Ragueneau enter rjinning.] SCENE VI. TTie 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. Grod! Ah, then! that faintness of a moment sine© . . . ? Cyrano. Why, true! It interrupted the "Gazette!" . . . Saturday, twenty-sixth, at dinner-time, Assassination of De Bergerac. [Ke takes off his hat ; they see his head bandaged.] 184 GTRANO DE BEBQERAG. BOXANE, What says he? Cyrano! — His head all bound I Ah, what has chanced ? How ?— Who ? . . . 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 my death. Ragueneau. Ah, Monsieur! . . . Cyrano. [Holding oat ?iis hand to hini]. Raguoneau, Weep not so bitterly ! . . . What do you now, Old comrade ? RAGUENEAU^[a??izc? Ms teai's]. . . . Trim the lights for Moliere's stage. Cyrano. Moliere! Ragueneau. Yes; but I shall leave to-morrow. I cannot bear it! — Yesterday they played " Scapin " — I sav? he'd thieved a scene from you! Le Bret. What! a whole scene ? Ragueneau. Oh, yes, indeed, Monsieur, The famous one, "Que Diable allait-il fair© ?" Le Bret. Moliere has stoleh that ? Cyrano. Tut! He did well! . . . [To Ragueneau.] How went the scene? It told— I think it told ? Ragueneau [sohh^ng^^. Ah! how they laughed! Cyrano. Look you, it was my life To be the prompter every one forgets! CYRANO BE BEROERAC. l^ [To ROXANE.] That night when 'neath your window Christiaa spoke — Under your balcony, you remember? Well! 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 Of death, I pay my tribute with the rest, To Moliere's genius, — Christian's fair face! [^The chapel-hell chimes. The Nuns are seen passing down the alley at the hack^ to say their office.^ Let them go pray, go pray, when the bell rings! RoxANE {I'ising and calling]. Sister! Sister! Cyrano [holding her fast]. Call no one. Leave me not; When you come back, I should be gone for aye. [Tlie Nuns liave all entered the chapel. The organ sounds.] I was somewhat fain for music — hark! 'tis come. RoxANE. Live, for 1 love you! Cyrano. No! In fairy tales When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says "I love you I" all his ugliness fades fast — But I remain the same, up to the last! RoxANE. I have marred your 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, wlien grown a man, 18G CYRANO DE BERGERAG. I feared the mistress who would mock at me. But I have had your friendship — grace to yon A woman's charm has passed across my path. Le Bret {pointing to the moon, which is seen between the ti'ees]. Your other lady-love is come. Cteano [smiling\ I see. RoxANE. I loved but once, yet twice I lose my love! Cyrano. Hark you, Le Bret! I soon shall reach the moon. To-night, alone, with no projectile's aid! . . Le Bret. What are you saying ? Cyrano. 1 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 [rehelliously]. No, no! It is too clumsy, too unjust! So great a heart! So great a poet! Die Like this ? what, die ... ? Cyrano. Hark to Le Bret, who scolds! Le Bret [weeping]. Dear friend . . , Cyrano [starting up, his eyes wild]. 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 ? iJYILiXO DE IJEHGERAC. 187 Philosoplicr, metaphysician, Rhymer, brawler, and mu-sician, Famed for liis lunar expedition. And the unnumbered duels he fought, — And lover also, — by interposition! — Here lies Ilercule Savinien Do 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 bencel \^He has -fallen hack in his cliair : the sobs o/Roxane recall him to reality ; he looks long at her, and, touch in(/ 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 yon! . . . Cyrano [shicering violentli/, then suddenly rising]. Not there! what, seated?— no! [ They S2)ring toward him. ] Let no one hold me up — [He props himself against the tree.] Only the tree! [Silence.] 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, 188 CYRANO BE BEROERAG. [He draws Ms sword.'^ And sword in hand! Le Bret. Cyrano! RoxANE [half fainting]. Cyrano! [All sliriiik hack in terror.'] Cyrano. Why, I well believe He dares to mock my nose ? Ho! insolent! [He raises his sivord.] What say you ? It is useless ? Ay, I know! But who fights ever hoping for success ? I fought for lost cause, and for fruitless quest! You there, who are you!— You are thousands! Ah! I know you 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 you will lay me low at last; Let be! Yet I fall fighting, fighting still! [He makes passes in tJie air, and stops, breathless.] You strip from me the laurel and the rose! Take all! Despite you there is yet one thing I hold against you all, and when, to-night, I enter Christ's fair courts, and, lowly bowed, Sweep with doffed casque the heavens' threshold blue, One thing is left, that, void of stain or smutch, CYRANO DE BERQERAC. 189 I bear away despite you. {He Kprinys forward^ his suord raised; it falls from Ids hand; he staggers^ falls hack into tfie arms of Le Bret and Raguenau. ] PwOXANE [bending over him and kissing his forehead]. Tis? ... Cyrano [opening his eyes, recognizing her, and smil- ing] . My ya naeh e. Curtain, 'F^iDE 4C0CK-H0R5L TO BaNBURY CROSS, To SF.E A HNE LADY UPOKAWmTL HORSi:; Rings on her fingcrs.and bells on HtRTOts. SUl SHALL HAVE MUSIC WHLKhVtK SHE GOES!' 000 002