Scene 2.VI.

Cyrano, Roxane.

CYRANO:
   Blessed be the moment when you condescend -
   Remembering that humbly I exist -
   To come to meet me, and to say . . .to tell? . . .

ROXANE (who 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 a la mode!
(Bowing):
   Then I fought, happy chance! sweet lady, not
   For my ill favor - but your favors fair!

ROXANE:
   Confession next! . . .But, ere I make my shrift,
   You must be once again that brother-friend
   With whom I used to play by the lake-side! . . .

CYRANO:
   Ay, you would come each spring to Bergerac!

ROXANE:
   Mind you the reeds you cut to make your swords? . . .

CYRANO:
   While you wove corn-straw plaits for your dolls' hair!

ROXANE:
   Those were the days of games! . . .

CYRANO:
   And blackberries! . . .

ROXANE:
   In those days you did everything I bid! . . .

CYRANO:
   Roxane, in her short frock, was Madeleine . . .

ROXANE:
   Was I fair then?

CYRANO:
   You were not ill to see!

ROXANE:
   Ofttimes, with hands all bloody from a fall,
   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.

ROXANE (seating herself by the table, and dipping her handkerchief in a glass of water):
   Give here!

CYRANO (sitting by her):
   So soft! so gay maternal-sweet!

ROXANE:
   And tell me, while I wipe away the blood,
   How many 'gainst you?

CYRANO:
   Oh! A hundred - near.

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! . . .

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 . . .
(He shows his hand, 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 then that he . . .?

ROXANE:
   Oh! people talk
   'Neath the limes in the Place Royale . . .
   Gossip'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 Guards!

ROXANE:
   To-day
   He is not join your ranks, under Captain
   Carbon de Castel-Jaloux.

CYRANO:
   Ah, how quick,
   How quick the heart has flown! . . .But, my 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 fair!

CYRANO:
   All words are fair that lurk 'neath fair mustache!
    - 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 save the mark!
   They told you that as well?

ROXANE:
   Ah! Think how I
   Trembled for him!

CYRANO (between his teeth):
   Not causelessly!

ROXANE:
   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.

ROXANE:
   Ah!
   You'll promise me you will do this for me?
   I've always held you as a tender friend.

CYRANO:
   Ay, ay.

ROXANE:
   Then you will be his friend?

CYRANO:
   I swear!

ROXANE:
   And he shall fight no duels, promise!

CYRANO:
   None.

ROXANE:
   You are kind, cousin! Now I must be gone.
(She puts on her mask and veil 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 him a kiss with her fingers):
   How good you are!

CYRANO:
   Ay! Ay!

ROXANE:
   A hundred men against you? Now, farewell. -
   We are great friends?

CYRANO:
   Ay, ay!

ROXANE:
   Oh, bid him write!
   You'll tell me all one day - A hundred men! -
   Ah, brave! . . .How brave!

CYRANO (bowing to her):
   I have fought better since.

(She goes out. Cyrano stands motionless, with eyes on the ground. A silence. The door (right) opens. Ragueneau looks in.)





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