Chapter III: Part 3

Perhaps. My vice is such.
I'm pleased if I displease. Indeed, I love
To gather hatred. Friend, you've never felt
The thrill that's caused by walking on erect,
While fifty pairs of eyes are sending shot,
As if they were so many guns! And then....
How comical the spots on doublets made
By envy's gall and cowardice's slaver!
--Loose friendships like to those you cultivate
Resemble the Italian collars, soft
And open-worked, that feminize your necks.
They're easy and of tranquil-going mien;
Your head with them can bend to any will.
Not so with me! For Hatred, every morn,
Makes stiff the ruff that forces up my head!
An enemy I gain's another fold
That straightens me the more, perhaps, but adds
A beam to my renown. The Spanish ruff,
Though sitting on the neck as would a yoke,
With some can be a halo 'round the head!

LE BRET (_after a pause, passing his arm through Cyrano's_).

Speak out aloud your pride and bitterness,
But whisper to me then: she loves me not!

[17] Note.--This is a Gascon oath. Like the similar oaths following,
it would if translated literally (Blood of God,) lose its
picturesque and really innocent character. All of these are
oath-sounds rather than oaths, and somewhat oath-evading, after
the fashion of "goldarn it," in America.

[18] Note.--The name "Castel-Jaloux," in the original, being
indicative of Gascon pride and superlativeness, it was thought
better to translate it in order to preserve colour. But here
arose the question: "Him" or "He" of Haughty-Hall? Both cases
have their champions, with most excellent reasons. It was
thought, however, that argument might be avoided and the line be
made more effective by the insertion of a dash after "Carbon,"
thus leaving time for the imaginary interrogation: "What Carbon?"
following which suspension, the answer is. "He of Haughty-Hall"
is the Carbon meant.

[19] Note.--The text here, justified by a current French expression,
would be too broad in English.

_SCENE IX._

CYRANO, LE BRET, THE CADETS, CHRISTIAN DE NEUVILLETTE.

A CADET (_seated at a table in the rear, drinking_).

Cyrano!

(_Cyrano turns._)

That narrative, please.

CYRANO.

Yes, presently!

(_He takes the arm of Le Bret, going up and speaking in low tone to
him._)

THE CADET (_rising and coming down_).

The details of the fight! They will make the best kind of lesson.... (_stopping near the table before which Christian is seated_) for a timid apprentice!

CHRISTIAN (_looking up_).

Apprentice!

ANOTHER CADET.

Just so, sickly northerner!

CHRISTIAN.

Sickly!

FIRST CADET (_sneeringly_).

Monsieur de Neuvillette, there's something you must learn, to wit: there exists a thing that, with us, must never be even alluded to--no more than a rope in the house of one who was hung.

CHRISTIAN.

And what is that?

ANOTHER CADET (_in terrifying tone_).

Look at me!

(_With his finger he, three times, strikes his nose._)

You understand?

CHRISTIAN.

Oh! you mean the....

ANOTHER CADET.

Hush!.... The word is never pronounced....

(_pointing to Cyrano, who, in the rear, is talking with Le Bret_).

.... Or else trouble is sure.

ANOTHER CADET (_who, while Christian was looking
the other way, took a seat on the table_).

Two men were killed by him because they spoke through the nose--a subject he dislikes!

ANOTHER CADET (_springing up from underneath
the table, where he had crawled_).

Those who desire to die young have but to come here and speak of the fatal cartilage.

ANOTHER CADET (_placing his hand on Christian's shoulder_).

One word's enough. Did I say: a word? One motion, just one, suffices. And drawing out one's handkerchief is equivalent to weaving one's shroud!

(_Silence. All the Cadets remain, with folded arms, staring at
Christian. Christian goes up to Carbon of Haughty-Hall, who has
been conversing with an officer and affecting not to notice the
proceedings._)

CHRISTIAN.

Captain!

CARBON (_turning, and with a severe look_).

Sir?

CHRISTIAN.

When one encounters southerners possessed of too much braggadocio....

CARBON.

The right thing to do? Prove to them that you may come from the North and still be brave.

(_Carbon turns._)

CHRISTIAN.

Captain, I thank you.

FIRST CADET (_to Cyrano_).

And now your narrative!

OTHER CADETS.

Yes, his narrative!

CYRANO (_coming down to them_).

My narrative? Well, here it is!

(_They gather around him, some seated, some standing. Christian
straddles a chair._)

Well, then, I was walking along so as to meet them. The moon, in the sky, looked like a big silver watch; when suddenly some zealous watch-maker, I suppose, began passing over it, with a view to making it shine, no doubt, some cloudy cotton. In consequence, the night became as dark as possible, and, mordious! I could not see further....

CHRISTIAN.

Than the end of your nose.

(_Silence. Everybody rises slowly, frightened, and looking at
Cyrano, whom the interruption has astounded. General expectancy._)

CYRANO.

Who is this man?

A CADET (_in subdued tone_).

One who joined this morning.

CYRANO (_going toward Christian_).

This morning?

CARBON.

His name is Baron de Neuvillette.

CYRANO (_rapidly, stopping_).

Oh! very well then!....

(_He turns pale, then reddens, and appears ready to throw himself
upon Christian._)

I must....

(_restraining himself, however_).

That is different. (_resuming_). As I was saying....

(_with ill-concealed fury_).

Mordious!....

(_continuing in a natural tone_).... I could not see very far.

(_General stupefaction. All take their seats again, looking at
Cyrano._)

So, I was walking on, thinking how I was going to disappoint some mighty lord desirous of pulling....

CHRISTIAN.

Your nose!....

(_Everybody rises again, while Christian rocks on his chair._)

CYRANO (_half choking_).

My ears!.... and how imprudent some people might find me for thus poking....

CHRISTIAN.

Your nose....

CYRANO.

No, my finger, between the tree and the bark. For this great lord might be powerful enough to rap me....

CHRISTIAN.

On the nose....

CYRANO (_wiping the perspiration from his forehead_).

No, on the fingers. But I said to myself: go ahead, Gascon; do your duty! On, Cyrano! Then, abruptly, out of the dark, somebody made a lunge at me. I parried: when suddenly, I found myself....

CHRISTIAN.

Nose to nose....

CYRANO (_bounding toward him_).

Ventre--Saint--Gris!....

(_All the Gascons advance to witness the scene. But Cyrano, on
coming up to Christian, masters himself, and continues:_)

Confronted by a hundred drunken rascals.... smelling....

CHRISTIAN.

With their hundred noses....

CYRANO (_pale as death, but smiling_).

....Strongly of onion and garlic! I rushed forward blindly....

CHRISTIAN.

Without nosing....

CYRANO.

And charged them! Down went two of them. A third I ran through. They lunged, I parried, and struck down, how many?....

CHRISTIAN.

Who knows!....

CYRANO (_bursting with rage_).

Thunder and lightning! Clear the room!

(_The Cadets rush toward the door._)

FIRST CADET.

The tiger wakes!

CYRANO.

All out! Leave me alone with this man!

SECOND CADET.

We'll find the fellow in mince-meat.

RAGUENEAU.

Mince-meat. Not fit, though, for my pies.

(_All go out, by the rear, the sides and the staircase. Cyrano and
Christian remain face to face staring at each other fiercely._)

_SCENE X._

CYRANO, CHRISTIAN.

CYRANO.

Embrace me!

CHRISTIAN.

Sir!....

CYRANO.

You are brave.

CHRISTIAN.

Perhaps. But....

CYRANO.

Very brave. I prefer it so.

CHRISTIAN.

Kindly explain....

CYRANO.

Embrace me! I am her brother!

CHRISTIAN.

Whose brother?

CYRANO.

Her's! Roxane's!

CHRISTIAN (_running up to him_).

You! The brother of Roxane?

CYRANO.

Well, very much the same: a brotherly cousin.

CHRISTIAN.

And she?....

CYRANO.

Told me all!

CHRISTIAN.

Does she love me?

CYRANO.

Perhaps!

CHRISTIAN (_taking Cyrano's hands_).

How happy I feel, Sir, to know you!

CYRANO.

Rather a sudden sentiment, is it not?

CHRISTIAN.

Forgive me, but....

CYRANO (_looking well at him, and laying his
hand on Christian's shoulder_).

It's a fact. A fine-looking fellow, this rascal!

CHRISTIAN.

I only wish you knew, Sir, how much I admire you.

CYRANO.

Yes? But what of all those noses that you....

CHRISTIAN.

I withdraw them, Sir!

CYRANO.

Roxane expects a letter to-night.

CHRISTIAN.

That is the trouble.

CYRANO.

How so?

CHRISTIAN.

I am lost if I remain silent!....

CYRANO.

Well then?....

CHRISTIAN.

But, I am ashamed to own it, I am too stupid to write.

CYRANO.

Stupid? You are not, friend, since you realise your inability. Moreover, your attack upon me was not that of a dunce.

CHRISTIAN.

Oh! it is easy enough to find words for a fight! Yes, perhaps I have a sort of easy, military wit; but, facing women, I am struck dumb. Oh! their eyes seem favourable enough as I pass them....

CYRANO.

Are not their hearts the same when you stop?

CHRISTIAN.

No, for I belong to those--and I know it--who tremble, and know not how to speak of love.

CYRANO.

Strange!.... It seems to me that, if I were better looking, I should belong to the other class: those who know and dare.

CHRISTIAN.

Oh! that I could with elegance express my feelings!

CYRANO.

Or be a pretty little musketeer!

CHRISTIAN.

Roxane is a "_précieuse_," and, in her eyes, I shall be disgraced!

CYRANO (_looking at Christian_).

Oh! that for the feelings of my soul I had such an interpreter!

CHRISTIAN (_despairing_).

What would I not give for eloquence!

CYRANO (_eagerly_).

I'll lend you some! Lend you to me your physical attraction, and the two combined will constitute the hero of a romance.

CHRISTIAN.

What then?

CYRANO.

Would you feel equal to repeating the daily lessons I could give you?

CHRISTIAN.

What is it you propose?

CYRANO.

In Roxane's eyes you shall not be disgraced. Together, if you will, we can gain her love. Will you allow the soul so ill-restrained by my buckskin here to breathe and sing beneath your embroidered doublet?....

CHRISTIAN.

But Cyrano....

CYRANO.

.... Christian, will you?

CHRISTIAN.

Would it give you so much pleasure?

CYRANO (_enraptured_).

It would....

(_returning to his senses, and lightly_)

It would amuse me!

A trial this to tempt a poet. Come!
We shall complete each other, if you will.
You'll walk, and I'll be near you in the shade!
I'll be the breath, and you shall be the form!

CHRISTIAN.

But that letter she expects. I cannot write it....

CYRANO (_taking from his doublet the letter he
wrote a while before_).

Your letter?.... Here it is!

CHRISTIAN.

How is this?

CYRANO.

It lacks nothing but the address. You may send it. Feel no anxiety. It is as it should be.

CHRISTIAN.

But how is it that you?....

CYRANO.

We poets have about us, as a rule,
Fine letters to the women we adore....
In our dreams. For we belong to those
Whose love is but a fleeting fancy blown
Into the rainbow-bubble of a name!
Take this and make a truth of what is feigned.
My rambling words of rapture flutter like
Bewildered birds; you'll cause them to alight.
The letter shows, itself--now take it!--that
My eloquence was born of artifice.

CHRISTIAN.

But there may be a few words to change. Thus, written at random, will it fit Roxane?

CYRANO.

It will fit her like a glove! Human vanity is so credulous that Roxane will never doubt the letter was written for her!

CHRISTIAN.

You are my dearest friend!

(_He throws himself into Cyrano's arms. They remain embracing._)

_SCENE XI._

CYRANO, CHRISTIAN, THE GASCONS, THE MUSKETEER, LISE.

A CADET (_half opening the door_).

Complete silence.... the silence of death.... I fear to look around!

(_after a survey_) What!....

SEVERAL CADETS (_entering and looking at
Cyrano and Christian locked in each
other's arms_).

Ah!.... Oh!.... Impossible!....

(_Consternation._)

THE MUSKETEER (_jeeringly_).

Well, well!....

CARBON.

Our quarrelsome demon has become as lamblike as an apostle! Struck on one of his nostrils--he offers the other!

THE MUSKETEER.

So, now we may speak of his nose!....

(_calling Lise, triumphantly_).

Lise, just come and see!....

(_sniffing with affectation_).

Why!.... Why!.... this is surprising! It smells here of....

(_going up to Cyrano_).

But you, Sir, must have noticed it? It smells of....

CYRANO (_slapping Musketeer's face_).

Five-leaf clover!

(_General rejoicing, Cyrano is himself again. Cadets turn
somersaults._)

_CURTAIN._

_ACT III._

THE KISS OF ROXANE.

_A small public square in the old Marais quarter of Paris. Old houses, narrow streets. To the right Roxane's house and garden, over the wall of which spread and hang the branches of large trees inside. Above the door, a window and a balcony. By the door a stone bench._

_Ivy creeps up the wall, and a jasmine twines around the balcony. By means of the bench and of stones projecting from the wall, it is comparatively easy to climb up to the balcony._

_Over the way, an old house in the same style, brick and stone, with a door, the knocker of which is wrapped with rags like a sore finger._

_As the curtain rises, the Duenna is seated on the bench. The window on Roxane's balcony is wide open. Standing near the Duenna is Ragueneau, wearing a sort of livery. He is concluding a story, and wiping his eyes._

_SCENE I._

RAGUENEAU, THE DUENNA, _later_ ROXANE, CYRANO, _and two pages_.

RAGUENEAU.

.... And then she left with a Musketeer! Deserted and ruined, I hung myself, and I was already off for another world, when enter Monsieur de Bergerac. He unhung me and offered me to his cousin for a steward.

THE DUENNA.

But how were you ruined so?

RAGUENEAU.

Lise had a weakness for the military, and I for poets. Mars ate all the cakes that Apollo left. Oh! they made short work of it!

THE DUENNA (_rises and calls toward the window_).

Roxane! Are you ready? We'll be late.

VOICE OF ROXANE (_through the window_).

I'm putting on my cape!

THE DUENNA (_to Ragueneau, pointing to the
door of the house over the way_).

We are expected over there, at Clomire's. She holds her literary assizes. There will be a reading. Subject: The Tender Passion!

RAGUENEAU.

The Tender Passion, indeed!

THE DUENNA (_smirking_).

The Tender Passion. Why not?

(_calling toward the window_).

Roxane, come down! Or we shall miss the discourse on The Tender Passion.

VOICE OF ROXANE.

I am coming!

(_Sound of string instruments growing gradually nearer._)

VOICE OF CYRANO (_singing in the wings_).

La, la, la, la!

THE DUENNA (_surprised_).

Music for us!

CYRANO (_followed by two pages each with an archlute_).

I say again that it's a demi-semi-quaver, you triple fool!

FIRST PAGE (_with irony_).

So then, Sir, you have thorough knowledge of quavers?

CYRANO.

I am a musician, as are all the disciples of Gassendi.

THE PAGE (_playing and singing_).

La, la!

CYRANO (_snatching from him the archlute and
continuing the music_).

I can go on! La, la, la, la!

ROXANE (_appearing on the balcony_).

So, it is you?

CYRANO (_continuing the same air_).

Yes, I who come to celebrate the lily, And to extol the glory of the ro....se!

ROXANE.

I'll be down in a moment.

(_She leaves the balcony._)

THE DUENNA (_to Cyrano, pointing to the two pages_).

And who may be these two songsters?

CYRANO.

Oh! they are part of a bet I won. D'Assoucy and I had a discussion on a point of grammar. No! Yes! No! Yes! Of a sudden he points to these two scarecrows here, his constant escort, great in the art of scratching a string with a claw, and he says: "I'll bet you a whole day of music!"--He lost. And now, until to-morrow comes, I must enjoy both the strains and the presence of these two harmonious witnesses of all my acts!.... Pleasant, if you like, in the beginning, but now the pleasure is growing less.

(_to the musicians_).

Hep!.... Just go and play a pavan--with my compliments--for that actor Montfleury!

(_Pages go up. To the Duenna_).

I've come this evening--as on previous evenings--

(_to the Pages who are leaving_).

Play long,--and out of tune!

(_to Duenna_).

To ask Roxane if the friend of her soul is still as faultless as before.

ROXANE (_coming out of the house_).

How beautiful, how clever he is! and how I love him!

CYRANO (_smiling_).

Indeed! And is Christian so very clever?....

ROXANE.

Yes, dear friend, more so even than yourself!

CYRANO.

So be it, then!

ROXANE.

To my mind, it would be impossible for anyone to deliver with more elegance and wit than he does these pretty trifles that are nothing, if you will--and still are everything. At times, it is true, he seems quite absent-minded; but, suddenly, he recovers and says the most charming things!

CYRANO (_incredulous_).

You surprise me!

ROXANE.

You men are really astonishing! Because Christian is handsome, he _must_ be stupid!

CYRANO.

I doubt if he can speak of hearts and love.

ROXANE.

He does not speak of, he lectures on them, Sir!

CYRANO.

And he writes?

ROXANE.

Still better. Just listen.

(_reciting_).

"The more you take of what's my heart, the more I've left."

(_triumphantly_).

What think you of that?

CYRANO.

So! So!

ROXANE.

And of this? (_reciting_).

"Since I must suffer and, to suffer, have a heart,
If you would keep the heart that's mine, then send me yours."

CYRANO.

At first he had too much heart; now he has not enough. It would be interesting to know exactly how much heart would satisfy him.

ROXANE.

You are exasperating! True jealousy!....

CYRANO (_moved_).

What?....

ROXANE.

An author's jealousy! And is not this just as lovely as possible? Listen!

"T'ward you my heart, I swear, has but a single cry,
And, if in written lines fond kisses could be sent,
O Madam, you would read this letter with your lips!"

CYRANO (_with an unconscious smile of satisfaction_).

Ha! ha! the lines are.... hum! hum!....

(_recovering and disdainfully_).

.... really pretty weak!

ROXANE.

Indeed! And this?

CYRANO.

Why! do you remember all his letters?

ROXANE.

Every one of them!

CYRANO.

Undoubtedly, this is quite a compliment!

ROXANE.

He is a master!

CYRANO (_with modesty_).

Oh!.... a master!....

ROXANE (_with decision_).

A master, I say!

CYRANO.

So be it! A master!

THE DUENNA (_returning from the rear_).

Monsieur de Guiche!

(_to Cyrano, pushing him toward the house_).

Get into the house. It is better he should not see you here--or else he might suspect....

ROXANE (_to Cyrano_).

Yes, discover my secret. He loves me; he is powerful, and he must not know of my love. He could destroy it!

CYRANO (_entering the house_).

Very well, then, very well!

(_Enter Guiche._)

_SCENE II._

ROXANE, GUICHE, THE DUENNA, _at a distance_.

ROXANE (_to Guiche, with a curtsey_).

I was just going out.

GUICHE.

And I have come to take leave, before starting for the front.

ROXANE.

Oh!....

GUICHE.

I am ordered to the siege of Arras....

ROXANE.

Oh!....

GUICHE.

.... and I go to-night.

ROXANE.

Oh!....

GUICHE.

My departure does not seem to distress you greatly....

ROXANE.

Oh!....

GUICHE.

.... But I seriously grieve over it. Shall I ever see you again?.... When?.... By the way, I have been given a high command.

ROXANE (_indifferent_).

I congratulate you!

GUICHE.

The Guards regiment.

ROXANE (_interested_).

Oh! the Guards?

GUICHE.

Yes, the regiment in which is your cousin, the man of boastful words. I'll have my revenge when I get him at the siege.

ROXANE (_overcome_).

What! the Guards are going there?

GUICHE (_laughing_).

Of course, since they are now my regiment.

ROXANE (_sinking on the bench--aside_).

Christian!

GUICHE.

What ails you?

ROXANE (_moved_).

This.... departure.... grieves me sorely. To know that those you.... care for.... are going to battle!

GUICHE (_surprised and pleased_).

Why is it I hear words so sweet only on the day of my departure?

ROXANE (_changing her manner and using her fan_).

So, then, you mean to seek revenge on my cousin Cyrano?

GUICHE (_surprised_).

Do you take his part?

ROXANE.

I? Not at all. I am against him.

GUICHE.

Do you see him often?

ROXANE.

Very seldom.

GUICHE.

I meet him everywhere.... with one of those cadets.... this Neu.... vil.... Neuvil....

ROXANE.

A tall man?

GUICHE.

A blond.

ROXANE.

Red-haired, rather.

GUICHE.

Handsome!....

ROXANE.

For some, perhaps, but....

GUICHE.

But very stupid.

ROXANE.

So it struck me! (_changing her manner_).

....Your revenge as regards Cyrano no doubt consists in holding him under fire, which he relishes. So I hardly see great vengeance for you in that. I can tell you, though, what would wound him to the quick!....

GUICHE.

And that is?....

ROXANE.

To have his regiment and his dear cadets remain, so long as there is war, right here, in Paris, inactive! The only way to punish him is to deprive him of danger.

GUICHE.

Woman! Woman! No one but a woman would think of such a scheme!

(_getting closer to Roxane_).

You have then some regard for me? (_She smiles._) The fact that you take sides with me, Roxane, is, in my eyes, a proof of love.

ROXANE.

It is one.

GUICHE (_showing several sealed papers_).

I have the orders here for every company, and they shall be sent immediately, except....

(_he takes one out of the batch_) this one! It is for the cadets,
and (_puts it into a pocket_)

I hold it back! Ha! ha! Cyrano....so eager for the fray! And so you play with people as with mice, Roxane?

ROXANE.

Sometimes!

GUICHE (_quite close to her_).

You enthrall me! Roxane, listen. To-night--yes, I know, I must depart. But leave you when I feel that you are moved!....I cannot. Hear me! Close by here is the convent of the Capuchin fathers. Laymen cannot enter it; but, as the fathers serve my uncle Richelieu, they have some regard for his nephew, and they will give me a place of concealment. Officially, I shall have left for the front, but I shall return to you under the cover of a mask. Allow me to delay my departure a few hours, dear waywardness!

ROXANE.

But if you are discovered! Your reputation....

GUICHE.

I'll risk it.

ROXANE.

But the siege.... Arras....

GUICHE.

I care not. Grant me your permission!

ROXANE.

No!

GUICHE.

Do!

ROXANE (_affectionately_).

My duty says that I must forbid! I beseech you, go!

(_aside_).

Christian remains here!

(_aloud_).

I would have you be a hero--Antoine!

GUICHE.

Celestial word!--And so you love the one....

ROXANE.

For whom I tremble? Yes!

GUICHE (_enraptured_).

'Tis well, I leave!

(_Kisses her hand._)

Are you satisfied?

ROXANE.

Yes, dearest friend!

(_Exit Guiche._)

THE DUENNA (_curtseying mockingly behind Guiche_).

Yes, dearest friend.

ROXANE (_to Duenna_).

Not a word, if you please. Cyrano would never forgive me for stealing his war from him!

(_calling toward the house_).

Cousin!

_SCENE III._

ROXANE, THE DUENNA, CYRANO.

ROXANE (_pointing to door of house opposite hers_).

We are going to Clomire's. Alcandre is to speak, so is Lysimon.

DUENNA.

Yes, but my little finger says that we shall be late.

CYRANO.

Make haste lest you miss part of their monkey talk.

DUENNA (_looking at knocker_).

That's right, they have gagged this noisy little wretch. It might have interrupted the finest speeches.

(_She knocks very gently. Door opens._)

ROXANE (_about to pass in. To Cyrano_).

Were Christian to come, as is likely, request him to wait for me, please.

CYRANO.

I shall.

(_As she is passing in the door, she turns, on hearing Cyrano
speak._)

And what question do you intend, as is your wont, to propound to him to-day?

ROXANE.

The question of....

CYRANO (_eagerly_).

Of?....

ROXANE.

But you'll remain silent!

CYRANO.

As a prison wall.

ROXANE.

No question at all!.... I shall simply say to him: Proceed--without a rein!--Extemporise. Speak of love. Be grand!

CYRANO (_smiling_).

Excellent idea!

ROXANE.

Hush!

CYRANO.

Hush!

(_Roxane enters, closing the door._)

CYRANO (_bowing to the door_).

Very many thanks!

(_The door opens and Roxane passes out her head._)

ROXANE.

He might try to prepare!....

CYRANO.

That would never do!....

TOGETHER.

Hush!

(_Door closes._)

CYRANO (_calling_).

Christian!

_SCENE IV._

CYRANO, CHRISTIAN.

CYRANO.

Now I'm informed! Prepare your memory. There is glory in store for you.--Drop your bad humour, and let us haste to your house, where I shall coach you.

CHRISTIAN.

No!

CYRANO.

What!

CHRISTIAN.

I'll wait for Roxane here.

CYRANO.

Have you gone mad? Come, come!

CHRISTIAN.

No! I said. I am weary of committing to memory my letters, my speeches.... Weary of playing a part....weary of trembling lest I fail! All good and well in the beginning! But now I feel that she really loves me! Many thanks, I fear nothing now. I'll speak unprompted.

CYRANO.

So, indeed!

CHRISTIAN.

Probably you think that I cannot?.... After all, I'm not so stupid! You shall see! Your lessons have improved me. I'll speak unaided. And--speak or not--I'll know enough to clasp her in my arms!

(_Perceiving Roxane coming out of Clomire's house_).

It is she! Cyrano, for pity's sake, do not leave me!

CYRANO (_bowing to him_).

You'll speak unprompted, Sir.

(_He disappears behind the garden wall._)

_SCENE V._

CHRISTIAN, ROXANE, THE DUENNA, _a moment_.

ROXANE (_coming out of Clomire's house, in company
with several ladies and gentlemen.--Curtsies_).

Barthénoïde!--Alcandre--Grémione!....

DUENNA (_in despair_).

We missed the discourse on The Tender Passion!

(_Enters house of Roxane._)

ROXANE (_going up to Christian_).

Oh! here you are!.... Twilight is coming, the air is balmy, and there is nobody about. Let us be seated. Speak. I'm listening.

(_She takes a seat on the bench. Christian sits near her.
Silence._)

CHRISTIAN.

I love you!

ROXANE (_closing her eyes_).

Yes, speak of love!

CHRISTIAN.

I love thee!

ROXANE.

Yes, that is the theme. Amplify!

CHRISTIAN.

I love....

ROXANE.

Expatiate!

CHRISTIAN.

So deeply!....

ROXANE.

Of course.... and then?....

CHRISTIAN.

And then?.... I should feel so happy if you loved me! Roxane, do say that you love me!

ROXANE (_pouting_).

You offer me porridge when I expected cream! Now, say _how_ you love me.

CHRISTIAN.

I love you....very much.

ROXANE.

Uncloud your sentiments a little!

CHRISTIAN.

Your neck! Ah! that I could press my lips to it!

ROXANE.

Christian, for shame!

CHRISTIAN.

I love you!

ROXANE (_about to rise_).

Again!

CHRISTIAN (_restraining her_).

No! I do _not_ love you....

ROXANE (_settling again into her seat_).

That is better!

CHRISTIAN.

I adore you!

ROXANE (_rising and from a distance_).

Oh! the same thing!

CHRISTIAN.

Yes--I feel that I am getting stupid!

ROXANE.

Yes, and it displeases me. No more should I like to have you lose your good looks.

CHRISTIAN.

But....

ROXANE.

Come, call up all your eloquence, just now put to flight.

CHRISTIAN.

I....

ROXANE.

Yes, I know, you love me. Farewell!

(_She goes toward the door._)

CHRISTIAN.

Do not go! Let me tell you....

ROXANE (_opening her door_).

That you adore me?.... But I know it already. No! no! you had better leave me!

CHRISTIAN.

But hear me, Roxane....

(_She closes the door in his face._)

CYRANO (_who has just appeared without being seen_).

Quite a success!

_SCENE VI._

CHRISTIAN, CYRANO, THE PAGES, _a moment_.

CHRISTIAN.

Help! help!

CYRANO.

No, Sir!

CHRISTIAN.

I'll die if she does not this moment relent....

CYRANO.

What can I do? This very moment drum into you....

CHRISTIAN (_clasping Cyrano's arm_).

See! There she comes!

(_Light in the balcony window._)

CYRANO (_moved_).

Her window!

CHRISTIAN.

Help me! Or I'll die!

CYRANO.

Speak lower!

CHRISTIAN (_whispering_).

It is life or death to me!

CYRANO.

The night is dark....

CHRISTIAN.

Well, speak!

CYRANO.

The harm can be undone. You do not deserve it, you wretch!....but stand there before the balcony! I'll remain beneath it--and prompt you!

CHRISTIAN.

But, my friend....

CYRANO.

Obey orders!

THE PAGES (_in the rear, to Cyrano_).

Hep!

CYRANO (_silencing them_).

Hush!

FIRST PAGE (_in a whisper_).

We have serenaded Montfleury.

CYRANO (_in a whisper, quickly to Pages_).

You, stand on this corner....and you, on that one. If anyone comes along, play an air.

SECOND PAGE.

What sort of air would suit Gassendi?

CYRANO.

Lively for a woman; for a man a sad one!

(_Pages disappear, taking two different streets._)

(_To Christian_) Now, call her!

CHRISTIAN (_calling_).

Roxane.

CYRANO (_picking up a few pebbles that he throws
against the window_).

Wait! A few pebbles.

ROXANE (_half opening her window_).

Who calls me?

CHRISTIAN.

I.

ROXANE.

Who is I?

CHRISTIAN.

I, Christian.

ROXANE (_scornfully_).

Oh! you!

CHRISTIAN.

I must speak to you.

CYRANO (_under the balcony, to Christian_).

Good! Lower your voice.

ROXANE.

No! You speak too clumsily. Better go!

CHRISTIAN.

Be pitiful!....

ROXANE.

No! You love me no more!

CHRISTIAN (_prompted by Cyrano_).

You accuse me....merciful Gods!....of loving no more....when....I love more!

ROXANE (_stopping as she was going to close the window_).

Why! you are improving.

CHRISTIAN (_still prompted_).

Love grows stronger in the restless soul--mine--that he has chosen....cruel child!....for a cradle!

ROXANE (_coming out on the balcony_).

Better still!....But, since this love is so cruel, you were foolish, indeed, not to smother it at its birth!

CHRISTIAN (_prompted_).

I tried....but without success: this new-born babe, Madam, is a little Hercules.

ROXANE.

Still better!

CHRISTIAN (_prompted_).

In fact, he....strangled without an effort....two serpents....Pride and....Doubt....

ROXANE (_leaning on the balcony railing_).

Very good indeed! But why do you speak so....deliberately? Has your imagination the gout, that it limps so?

CYRANO (_drawing Christian under the balcony, and
noiselessly taking Christian's place before it_).

Hush! The task is getting too difficult!....

ROXANE.

To-night you waver in your speech. Why so?

CYRANO (_speaking in a low tone as Christian
did before him_).

Because night has come, and, in the dark, my words must wander in search of your ear.

ROXANE.

But my words meet with no such difficulty.

CYRANO.

Yours find a resting-place immediately. Oh! very naturally, since I receive them into my heart. Remember that my heart is large, while your ear is very small. Moreover, your words descend! thus have they speed. While mine must rise, Madam: they require more time!

ROXANE.

But they have been rising much better for the last few moments.

CYRANO.

They are getting trained to climbing!

ROXANE.

The fact is that I am speaking to you from quite a height!

CYRANO.

Assuredly, and you would kill me if, from such an elevation, you allowed a sharp word to drop upon my heart!

ROXANE (_moved_).

I'll come down.

CYRANO (_quickly_).

No!

ROXANE (_pointing to the stone bench under the balcony_).

Step upon the bench, then, and climb up here!

CYRANO (_frightened and retreating_).

No!

ROXANE.

You surprise me.... Why not?

CYRANO (_more and more moved_).

Let us rather improve.... this opportunity of.... speaking softly together.... without seeing each other.

ROXANE.

What! To each other almost invisible?

CYRANO.

As now.--Let us enjoy the bliss there is
In seeking to distinguish one the other.
For you, I'm but the darkness of a cloak;
For me, you are the whiteness of a robe.
I'm shadow only, you are blessèd light!

If ever you have thought me eloquent....

ROXANE.

I have.

CYRANO.

Remember now that my words never yet came from my true heart.

ROXANE.

Why not?

CYRANO.

Because.... until now.... I have spoken to you through....

ROXANE.

Through what?

CYRANO.

The spell that you cast upon those who bask in the light of your eyes!.... And so, this night, to me it seems as if I were about to speak to you for the first time!

ROXANE.

Ah! that is why your voice seems different.

CYRANO (_feverish, and coming up closer to the balcony_).

Yes, different; for, now that darkness shields me, I dare to be myself at last, I dare....

(_He stops, bewildered._)

Where was I?.... I forget.... Pardon my confusion.... All this is so exquisite.... so new to me!....

ROXANE.

So new!

CYRANO (_quite bewildered, and trying to explain_).

So new!.... Why! yes.... It's new to be sincere. And then.... a fear of ridicule....

ROXANE.

Ridicule? For what?

CYRANO.

My emotional flights!

My heart, through diffidence, forever calls
Upon my mind to shield it from disdain:
I start to cull a star, and then I halt,
For fear of ridicule, to pick a floret.

ROXANE.

A floret has its charms.

CYRANO.

Disdain them now!

ROXANE.

You never spoke to me as now you speak!

CYRANO.

Oh! let us set aside the pygmy things,
The superannuated niceties
Of love as it is understood to-day!
Why sip by drops the waters of a spring,
When from a river we can freely quaff?

ROXANE.

But mind and wit?

CYRANO.

They serve to make you stay.
But now 'twould be an insult to the night,
To fragrance, and to fate, and nature too,
If we should hold unto affected style.
One look above, and artifice disarms!
I fear that, with this subtle alchemy,
The truth of sentiment might vapourise,
The soul exhaust itself in futile play,
And niceties be carried to a point
So pointed that it end in nothingness!

ROXANE.

But mind and wit?

CYRANO.

I hate them now. It is
A crime to force sweet love to bandy words!
There comes a time, moreover, be assured--
Oh! how I pity those who feel it not!--
When our breast o'erflows with noble love,
A love that pretty words must desecrate!

ROXANE.

Since now for both of us the time has come,
What words shall I expect from you?

CYRANO.

All, all,
All those I know; accept them scattered loose,
Unsought, unbound. I love you--let me breathe!--
I love thee[20], and I rave. 'Tis joy too much!
Thy name is in my heart as in a bell,
Roxane, and, as my heart forever throbs,
The bell is e'er the sounder of thy name.
Of thee there's nought I do not hoard and love:
I mind me that, last year, the twelfth of May,
A twist was changed in what's a crown, thy hair!
Thy glowing hair to me is truly light.
When we have gazed too long upon the sun,
We see on things around a halo reign;
'Tis thus when I have lost the light thou shedst:
My dazzled eyes are filled with golden sparks!

ROXANE.

Yes, this is love--

CYRANO.

The passion in my heart
Is jealous, fierce, with sadness tainted, but
It's really love--love shorn of selfish thought.
Would I could give my happiness for thine--
E'en shouldst thou ne'er suspect whose gift it was--
If I could hear, perchance and from afar,
The music of thy bliss, my offering!
From every glance of thine fresh virtue springs,
Fresh valour, too. Oh! say I'm understood,
And that thou feelst my soul ascend to thee!
All is to-night too beautiful and sweet!
And still it's true! I speak, at last, to thee.
Yes, I to thee! 'Tis bliss too great! My hopes,
My wildest hopes ne'er leaped to such a height;
My dream's no dream, and I can die content.
Because of me she quivers with the trees!
For, leaf divine, you tremble with the leaves!
Thou tremblest, for, against thy will or not,
I feel, oh, bliss! the tremour of thy hand
Descending now along these flowery vines.

(_He imprints a passionate kiss upon one of the branches._)

ROXANE.

I tremble, yes; I weep, I love, I'm thine!
I am enthralled!

CYRANO.

May Death then come along,
Since rapture's born of me, of me alone!
What more can I expect of life?--

CHRISTIAN (_under the balcony_).

A kiss!

ROXANE (_falling back_).

What?

CYRANO.

Oh!

ROXANE.

You claim?--

CYRANO.

Yes--I--

(_aside to Christian_).

You go too far.

CHRISTIAN (_aside to Cyrano_).

Now she is moved, it's time for me to act.

CYRANO (_to Roxane_).

Yes, I.... I asked.... it is true.... but now I realise how more than bold I was.

ROXANE (_somewhat disappointed_).

And you do not insist?

CYRANO.

Insist? Of course I do.... but with reserve!.... Yes, I know your modesty's offended. So, I withdraw the kiss.... refuse it to me!

CHRISTIAN (_with a tug at Cyrano's cloak_).

Why so?

CYRANO.

Be silent, Christian!

ROXANE (_leaning over the balcony_).

What are you muttering?

CYRANO.

I was reproving myself for going too far. I was saying: be silent Christian!....

(_sound of archlute._)

One moment please!.... Some one comes.

(_Roxane closes her window. Cyrano listens to the archlutes; one of
them plays a lively air, and the other a sad one._)

Lively?.... Sad?.... A woman or a man? No, a monk!

(_Enter monk holding a lighted lantern. He goes from house to
house, looking at the doors._)

[20] Note.--In this tirade, and in the following one, _you_, _thou_
and _she_ are intentionally interwoven. When Cyrano is carried by
his emotion, he passes from _you_ to _thou_, which latter is, in
French, familiar and endearing much more than in English. Then,
reclaimed by reason and fearing that he has overstepped the
bounds, he returns to the (in French) more formal _you_, or
resorts to a discreet _she_, only to forget himself again and to
resume the caressing _thou_.

_SCENE VII._

CYRANO, CHRISTIAN, _a_ CAPUCHIN MONK.

CYRANO (_to the Monk_).

Are you a new Diogenes?

MONK.

I'm looking for the house of Madam Magdeleine Robin.

CYRANO (_pointing to one of the streets_).

That way--straight ahead--as far as you can go....

MONK.

Thank you, Sir!--I'll tell my beads for you.

(_Exit Monk._)

CYRANO.

Peace be with you! I bid you Godspeed!

(_Comes down toward Christian._)

_SCENE VIII._

CYRANO, CHRISTIAN.

CHRISTIAN.

Obtain for me that kiss!

CYRANO.

No, Sir!

CHRISTIAN.

But, sooner or later, you know....

CYRANO.

True,
The time will come, that time of bliss intense,
When each will fall into the other's arms,
And blond mustache to rosy lips will go!

(_aside_)

'Twas better that at least I cause the bliss.

(_Window above opens. Christian conceals himself beneath the
balcony._)

_SCENE IX._

CYRANO, CHRISTIAN, ROXANE.

ROXANE (_coming out on the balcony_).

Is it you?--Yes.... What were we speaking of?.... oh! of a.... well, of....

CYRANO.

A kiss! The word is soft. Why hesitate?
The name, be sure, will not maltreat your lips,
However burning be the thing itself.--
Just now, you left the trifling mood, to glide,
To steal from smile to sigh, and sigh to tears.
Glide on!.... From tear to kiss there's but a thrill!

ROXANE.

Be silent!

CYRANO.

After all, what is a kiss?
An oath that's given closer than before;
A promise more precise; the sealing of
Confessions that till then were barely breathed;
A ruby O to spell the verb: I love![21]
A secret that's confided to a mouth
And not to ears; a precious moment of
Infinity that buzzes like a bee;
Communion with the fragrance flowers have;
A gentle way for heart to breathe a heart,
For soul from fervid lips to drink a soul!

ROXANE.

Be still!

CYRANO.

A kiss is oft a thing so grand
That once a queen of France permitted one
Unto a happy lord. I said: a queen!

ROXANE.

And then?

CYRANO (_excited_).

Like Buckingham, I've suffered long;
Like him I love a queen, the one that's you!
Like him, I'm sad and faithful....

ROXANE.

And like him
You've beauty.

CYRANO (_aside, abashed_).

Yes.... I've beauty.... I forgot!

ROXANE.

Well, then, come up, to cull the flower....

CYRANO (_pushing Christian toward the balcony_).

Go!

ROXANE.

Whose fragrance....

CYRANO (_to Christian_).

Go!

ROXANE.

The buzzing of the bee....

CYRANO (_to Christian_).

Go up!

CHRISTIAN (_hesitating_).

But now, it really seems a crime!

ROXANE.

A moment of infinity....

CYRANO (_pushing Christian_).

You fool,
Go up!

(_Christian, by aid of bench, vines and posts, reaches the balcony
and steps over the railing._)

CHRISTIAN.

Roxane!....

(_He clasps her to his breast and kisses her on the lips._)

CYRANO (_aside_).

What pinches so my heart?....
That kiss!.... a feast where I'm the Lazarus!....
Sweet feast, from thee there falls to me a crumb,
Since on the lips Roxane mistakes, alas!
She drinks the words that I just now pronounced!

(_Sound of instruments._)

An air that's sad, a lively air!--The Monk!

(_Affecting to run as if coming from a distance. In clear tone:_)

Hello!

ROXANE.

What is it?

CYRANO.

It is I, Cyrano. I was passing.... Is Christian still here?

CHRISTIAN (_as if astonished_).

Why! it's Cyrano!

ROXANE.

How do you do, cousin?

CYRANO.

Cousin, how do you do?

ROXANE.

I'll come down.

(_She disappears into the house. By the rear, enter the Monk._)

CHRISTIAN (_perceiving him_).

What! he again!

(_He follows Roxane._)

[21] Note.--"Un point rose qu'on met sur l'i du verbe aimer."

"A ruby O"...., as above, may prove, it is thought, a good
example of _equivalence_, the _i_, impossible here in English,
finding in O a good substitute, calling up, if not exactly the
very same image, at least a kindred one fully as good.

_SCENE X._

CYRANO, CHRISTIAN, ROXANE, THE MONK, RAGUENEAU.

THE MONK.

She must live here--I insist--Magdeleine Robin!

CYRANO.

Why! You said _Ro-lin_.

MONK.

No! _Bin_. B, I, N, _bin_!

ROXANE (_appears in the doorway, followed by
Ragueneau, carrying a lighted lantern,
and by Christian_).

What is it?

MONK.

A letter.

CHRISTIAN.

What's this?

MONK (_to Roxane_).

Oh! it can but be a saintly thing! A worthy gentleman....

ROXANE (_to Christian_).

Evidently Guiche!

CHRISTIAN.

He would dare?....

ROXANE.

Oh! he cannot long annoy me! I love you, and....

(_She opens the letter, and, by the aid of Ragueneau's lantern, she
reads to herself, in a low voice:_)

"Mademoiselle,

"The drums are beating and my regiment is about to start. All think that I have already gone; but I have remained, thus disobeying you. I am here in the convent. I'll come to you forthwith, but I give you notice of my visit, through an innocent monk who knows not what message he is carrying. Your lips smiled to me just now; I must see them again. Dismiss whoever is near you, and condescend to hear the bold suitor whom you have, I trust, already forgiven, and who remains your most.... et cetera...."

(_to the Monk_).

Father, listen! Here is what the letter says:

(_All come up and listen, as she reads aloud:_)

"Mademoiselle,

"You must submit to the will of the Cardinal, however hard it may appear to you. And that is why I send this message by a saintly, most intelligent and discreet capuchin. We desire you to receive his blessing....(_turning the page_) his nuptial blessing immediately. Christian must be married to you secretly. I send him to you, though I know you like him not. Be resigned, remembering that Heaven will bless your zeal. Be assured, Mademoiselle, of my respect, for I have been and shall ever be your most humble and very.... et cetera."

MONK (_delighted_).

Worthy gentleman! I knew he could suggest but a saintly thing!

ROXANE (_aside to Christian_).

Do you not think I read letters well?

CHRISTIAN.

It depends....

ROXANE (_aloud, in despair_).

Ah!.... this is terrible!

MONK (_throwing the light of the lantern upon Cyrano_).

Are you the groom?

CHRISTIAN.

I am the one!

MONK (_turning the light upon Christian and as
if he was in doubt on seeing Christian's
handsome looks_).

But, my son....

ROXANE (_eagerly_).

There is a Post Scriptum: "Donate to the convent one hundred and twenty pistoles."

MONK.

Worthy, worthy gentleman! (_To Roxane_) Be resigned!

ROXANE (_with a martyr's look_).

I am!

(_While Ragueneau shows the Monk into the house, on Christian's
invitation, Roxane, in low tone, says to Cyrano_).

Guiche is coming. Detain him here until....

CYRANO.

I understand.

(_to the Monk_). To give them your blessing will take you.... how
long?

MONK.

A quarter of an hour.

CYRANO (_pushing them all into the house_).

Go in, go in! Only one must remain here: I!

ROXANE (_to Christian_).

Come!

(_They all go into the house._)

CYRANO.

How can I detain Guiche fifteen minutes? Oh! I have a plan!

(_He climbs upon the balcony. The archlutes play a sort of dirge._)

This time it must be a man, most certainly. It is!

(_He is on the balcony, with his hat well down over his eyes. Takes
off his sword, wraps himself in his cloak, leans over the railing
and observes._)

No! Really not too high!

(_Straddles the railing, seizes a long branch of one of the trees
and makes ready to drop._)

I'll only slightly disturb the atmosphere!

_SCENE XI._

CYRANO, GUICHE.

GUICHE (_masked, and hesitating in the dark_).

What can this infernal monk be doing?

CYRANO.

By the way--my voice?--He might recognise it!

(_He loosens a hand and makes the motion of turning a key._)

Cric! Crac!

(_Solemnly_) Now, Cyrano, resume the accent of Bergerac!

GUICHE (_looking at the house_).

Here's the house!

(_He is about to enter, but Cyrano springs from the balcony while
holding on to the branch; the latter bends and lets him down
between Guiche and the door. He affects to fall heavily, as if from
a great height, remaining crushed and dazed. Guiche jumps back._)

What is this?

(_When Guiche recovers from his astonishment the branch has sprung
up again, so that Cyrano appears to have fallen from the sky._)

From where did this man drop?

CYRANO (_speaking with a Gascon's accent_).

From the moon!

GUICHE.

The moon!....

CYRANO (_as if dazed_).

What time is it? What country is this? What month? What day?

GUICHE.

But, my dear Sir....

CYRANO.

I feel quite dizzy.--Like a bombshell, I have just dropped from the moon!

GUICHE (_out of patience_).

Look here, Sir!....

CYRANO (_rising, and in thundering tone_).

I say that I dropped!

GUICHE (_falling back_).

So be it, then! You dropped!.... (_aside_) He is no doubt insane!

CYRANO (_walking toward him_).

And my drop is not metaphorical!.... One hundred years, or one minute ago--I cannot tell how long I was on the way--I was up in that saffron-coloured ball!

GUICHE (_shrugging his shoulders_).

Quite so! But allow me to pass!

CYRANO (_stopping him_).

Be frank now! Where am I? Where have I fallen like a meteorite?

GUICHE.

Zounds, Sir!....

CYRANO.

During my fall, I could make no selection as to my point of arrival. Is it upon a moon or an earth that my dead weight has just landed?

GUICHE.

But I repeat to you, Sir!....

CYRANO (_with a cry of horror that causes Guiche
to fall back_).

Good Heavens!.... In this country are people's faces black? Am I in Algiers, and are you a native?

GUICHE (_touching his mask_).

No doubt, this mask....

CYRANO (_seemingly less frightened_).

Oh! then, it's Venice.... or Genoa!

GUICHE (_trying to pass_).

A lady is waiting for me!...

CYRANO (_completely reassured_).

Then I must be in Paris!

GUICHE (_reluctantly smiling_).

The rascal is amusing!

CYRANO.

You are laughing.

GUICHE.

Yes,--but I must pass.

CYRANO (_apparently overjoyed_).

So I have dropped in Paris!....

(_Quite at his ease, laughing, dusting himself, and bowing._)

I have just arrived--pardon me--by the last cyclone, and I must brush off the ether that is still on me. I've travelled! My eyes are still full of astral dust, and my spurs have caught planet hairs.

(_picking something off his sleeve_).

Here, on my doublet, is one from a comet!....

(_He blows, as if to cast off the hair._)

GUICHE (_enraged_).

Now, look here, Sir!....

(_As Guiche is going to pass, Cyrano stretches out his leg as if to
show something that is on it._)

CYRANO.

In the calf of this leg, Sir, I have a tooth of the Great Bear,--and, as nearing the Trident, I managed to avoid its three lances, I fell in a lump upon the Balance--where my weight up there is still registered!

(_preventing Guiche from passing and holding him by one of his
buttons._)

If you were to press my nose, Sir, you would cause a flow of milk!....

GUICHE.

Milk, indeed!

CYRANO.

Yes, Sir.... from the Milky Way!

GUICHE.

Oh! by Satan!....

CYRANO.

No! I dropped from heaven! (_crossing his arms_). Would you believe it? I noticed it as I was going by there: Sirius, at night actually wears a turban! (_confidentially_) The other Bear, the little one, is still too small to bite! (_laughing_) As I was passing through the Lyre, I broke one of its strings! (_proudly_) But I intend to write a book on the subject; and the golden stars that I gathered into my scorched cloak, regardless of peril, shall be used by my printer for asterisks!

GUICHE.

Once more, I must insist....

CYRANO.

Oh! Sir, I know what you desire!

GUICHE.

You do?....

CYRANO.

Yes. You desire to hear from me how the moon is made, and if any one inhabits the rotundity of this cucurbit![22]

GUICHE (_very loud_).

No! No! I desire....

CYRANO.

To learn how I got up there? Easily. Through an invention of mine.

GUICHE (_discouraged_).

A madman, certainly!

CYRANO (_disdainfully_).

I copied not the stupid eagle of Regiomontanus, or the timid pigeon of Archytas!....

GUICHE.

A madman--but a learned one.

CYRANO.

No, Sir. I imitated nothing ever done.

(_Guiche, having managed to pass, is nearing Roxane's door, but
Cyrano follows, ready to seize him._)

I invented six different ways of assaulting the virgin blue!

GUICHE (_turning_).

Six?

CYRANO (_with increased fluency_).

I could, with body as bare as a taper, have comparisoned it with crystal phials o'erflowing with tears from the morning skies, and my person, then, if exposed in the sun, would have been aspirated by the luminary along with the dew!

GUICHE (_astonished, goes toward Cyrano_).

True! That is one way!

CYRANO (_backing, so as to draw him further away_).

Again, I could have created a powerful gust of wind, to lift me, if I had rarefied the air in a cedar box, by means of heated mirrors forming an icosahedron!

GUICHE (_following Cyrano_).

Two ways!

CYRANO (_still backing_).

Or else, being both a machinist and an artificer, have straddled a steel-legged grasshopper, and caused myself, through successive explosions of saltpetre, to be projected into the azure fields where the stars are wont to graze!

GUICHE (_still following him, and counting on
his fingers_).

That is three!

CYRANO.

Since smoke persists in rising, I might have blown into a globe enough of it to carry me up!

GUICHE (_more and more astonished_).

Four!

CYRANO.

Since Phoebe, when her bow is the thinnest, loves to draw, O beeves! your marrow,.... anoint myself with the same!

GUICHE (_stupefied_).

Five!

CYRANO (_who has managed, while talking, to
press Guiche over to the other side of
the square, near a bench_).

Last: I could have placed myself upon an iron plate, taken a magnet and thrown it up into the air! This is a capital way. As soon as the magnet starts, the iron rushes in pursuit of it. The magnet is thrown up again; the iron plate follows--and, Cadedis! there is nothing to prevent the ascension from lasting indefinitely.

GUICHE.

Six!--All excellent systems. And, tell me, Sir, which one of the six did you adopt?

CYRANO.

A seventh one!

GUICHE.

Astonishing! And what was it, please?

CYRANO.

You would never dream of it!....

GUICHE (_aside_).

The fellow is really interesting!

CYRANO (_very mysterious and imitating the
sound of waves on a beach_).

Houüh! Houüh!

GUICHE.

What's that?

CYRANO.

You cannot imagine?

GUICHE.

No!

CYRANO.

The tide!.... As it was running out, in obedience to the attraction of the moon, I lay on the sands--head foremost, so that my hair--hair, you know, does not dry fast--so that my hair was kept bathed in the receding waves. And, thus I was, by the moon's attraction, drawn up, up, erect, like an angel. And up I went, gently, without an effort, until suddenly, I felt a shock!.... Then!....

GUICHE (_interested, takes a seat on the bench_).

Then?....

CYRANO.

Then.... (_resuming his natural tone_). The fifteen minutes have elapsed, Sir, and now I grant you your freedom. The marriage is accomplished!

GUICHE (_jumping up_).

Am I intoxicated?.... That voice!

(_The door of Roxane's house opens; lackeys come out with lighted
candelabra. Cyrano takes off his hat that he had kept well down
over his face._)

And that nose!.... Cyrano!

CYRANO (_bowing_).

In person.... Cyrano! They have just exchanged their marriage rings.

GUICHE.

They!.... Who?

(_He turns. Tableau. Behind the lackeys, Roxane and Christian
holding each other by the hand. The Monk, smiling, follows them.
Ragueneau is behind, also holding a light. And last is the Duenna,
bewildered, half dressed, as if she had been hurried out of bed._)

Merciful heavens!

[22] Note.--_Cucurbit_ ("cucurbite") for moon is, in French, as odd as
it appears in English. The oddity of the expression, that
assimulates Luna to the rotund melon, pumpkin, etc., of the genus
of plants known as _cucurbita_, is in keeping with Cyrano's
intentional extravagance of speech.

_SCENE XII._

_The same._ ROXANE, CHRISTIAN, THE MONK, RAGUENEAU, LACKEYS, THE DUENNA.

GUICHE (_to Roxane_).

You, Roxane!

(_Astounded on recognising Christian_) and he?

(_Bowing admiringly to Roxane._)

You are admirably shrewd!

(_To Cyrano_) My compliments to you, Sir, as an inventor. Your narrative would have stopped a saint at the gate of heaven! Do not forget to write that book!

CYRANO (_bowing_).

I promise, Sir, to follow your advice.

THE MONK (_with an air of satisfaction calling
Guiche's attention to the two lovers_).

A beautiful couple, my son, and good work of yours!

GUICHE (_very coldly_).

Yes.

(_to Roxane_) Be good enough to bid farewell, Madam, to your
husband.

ROXANE.

How so?

GUICHE (_to Christian_).

Your regiment is about to march. Join it immediately!

ROXANE.

Is it going to the war?

GUICHE.

Of course it is.

ROXANE.

But you said, Sir, that the Cadets were not going!

GUICHE.

They shall go!

(_Drawing from his pocket the paper he had put into it._)

Here is the order.

(_to Christian_) Bear it yourself, Baron.

ROXANE (_throwing herself into the arms of Christian_).

Oh! dear Christian!

GUICHE (_chuckling, to Cyrano_).

A still very distant honeymoon!

CYRANO (_aside_).

A fact not so annoying to me as he thinks!

CHRISTIAN (_to Roxane_).

Another kiss! Your lips again!

CYRANO.

Come, that is enough! enough!

CHRISTIAN (_still kissing Roxane_).

It is very hard to leave her.... You do not know....

CYRANO (_endeavouring to draw him away_).

Oh! yes, I do!

(_Drums beating a march, in the distance._)

GUICHE (_who has gone up to the rear_).

The troops are leaving!

ROXANE (_to Cyrano, who is drawing away Christian
while she is trying to hold him back_).

Oh!.... I entrust him to you! Promise me that nothing shall endanger his life!

CYRANO.

I shall do my best.... but I can hardly promise....

ROXANE (_still holding on to Christian_).

Promise me that he shall be very prudent!

CYRANO.

I'll try, but as to promising....

ROXANE (_still holding on_).