Scene 5.VI.

The same. Le Bret and Ragueneau.

LE BRET:
   What madness! Here? I knew it well!

CYRANO (smiling and sitting up):
   What now?

LE BRET:
   He has brought his death by coming, Madame.

ROXANE:
   God!
   Ah, then! that faintness of a moment since . . .?

CYRANO:
   Why, true! It interrupted the 'Gazette:'
    . . .Saturday, twenty-sixth, at dinner-time,
   Assassination of De Bergerac.

(He takes off his hat; they see his head bandaged.)

ROXANE:
   What says he? Cyrano! - His head all bound!
   Ah, what has chanced? How? - Who? . . .

CYRANO:
   'To be struck down,
   Pierced by 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 out his hand to him):
   Ragueneau,
   Weep not so bitterly! . . .What do you now,
   Old comrade?

RAGUENEAU (amid his tears):
   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 saw 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 faire?'

LE BRET:
   Moliere has stolen that?

CYRANO:
   Tut! He did well! . . .
(to Ragueneau):
   How went the scene? It told - I think it told?

RAGUENEAU (sobbing):
   Ah! how they laughed!

CYRANO:
   Look you, it was my life
   To be the prompter every one forgets!
(To Roxane):
   That night when 'neath your window Christian 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-bell chimes. The nuns are seen passing down the alley at the back, to say their office):
   Let them go pray, go pray, when the bell rings!

ROXANE (rising and calling):
   Sister! Sister!

CYRANO (holding her fast):
   Call no one. Leave me not;
   When you come back, I should be gone for aye.
(The nuns have all entered the chapel. The organ sounds):
   I was somewhat fain for music - hark! 'tis come.

ROXANE:
   Live, for I love you!

CYRANO:
   No, In fairy tales
   When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says
   'I love you!' all his ugliness fades fast -
   But I remain the same, up to the last!

ROXANE:
   I have marred 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, when grown a man,
   I feared the mistress who would mock at me.
   But I have had your friendship - grace to you
   A woman's charm has passed across my path.

LE BRET (pointing to the moon, which is seen between the trees):
   Your other lady-love is come.

CYRANO (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:
   I tell you, it is there,
   There, that they send me for my Paradise,
   There I shall find at last the souls I love,
   In exile, - Galileo - Socrates!

LE BRET (rebelliously):
   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 hic . . .

LE BRET:
   His science still - he raves!

CYRANO:
   Copernicus
   Said . . .

ROXANE:
   Oh!

CYRANO:
   Mais que diable allait-il faire,
   Mais que diable allait-il faire dans cette galere? . . .
   Philosopher, metaphysician,
   Rhymer, brawler, and musician,
   Famed for his lunar expedition,
   And the unnumbered duels he fought, -
   And lover also, - by interposition! -
   Here lies Hercule Savinien
   De Cyrano de Bergerac,
   Who was everything, yet was naught.
   I cry you pardon, but I may not stay;
   See, the moon-ray that comes to call me hence!
(He has fallen back in his chair; the sobs of Roxane recall him to reality; he looks long at her, and, touching her veil):
   I would not bid you mourn less faithfully
   That good, brave Christian:   I would only ask
   That when my body shall be cold in clay
   You wear those sable mourning weeds for two,
   And mourn awhile for me, in mourning him.

ROXANE:
   I swear it you! . . .

CYRANO (shivering violently, then suddenly rising):
   Not there! what, seated? - no!
(They spring toward him):
   Let no one hold me up -
(He props himself against the tree):
   Only the tree!
(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,
(He draws his sword):
   And sword in hand!

LE BRET:
   Cyrano!

ROXANE (half fainting):
   Cyrano!


(All shrink back in terror.)

CYRANO:
   Why, I well believe
   He dares to mock my nose? Ho! insolent!
(He raises his sword):
   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 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 the 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,
   I bear away despite you.


(He springs forward, his sword raised; it falls from his hand; he staggers, falls back into the arms of Le Bret and Ragueneau.)

ROXANE (bending and kissing his forehead):
   'Tis? . . .

CYRANO (opening his eyes, recognizing her, and smiling):
   MY PANACHE.

Curtain.







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