Love passionate, was born that night of bliss
When, from beneath my willing balcony,
In accents that to both of us were new,
A soul revealed itself to me....'twas yours....
So that, each time your letters came, it seemed
As if I lived those minutes once again,
And, rapture-bound, I heard your voice itself,
Those tender tones that twined around me then.
So here am I! Penelope would not
Have persevered in waiting labour if
Ulysses could have written grandly so;
But, daft as Helen, she, to join him, would
Have flung away her tedious worsted balls.
CHRISTIAN.
But....
ROXANE.
Yes, I read and read, while every thrill
Confirmed me yours. Each leaflet that I held
Was like a petal wafted from your soul,
Each word was one of love sincere and strong....
CHRISTIAN.
Indeed, sincere and strong?--You felt it so?....
ROXANE.
Oh! yes, so strongly!
CHRISTIAN.
And, Roxane, you came....
ROXANE.
I came because.... O Christian, dearest conqueror,
You'd bid me rise, if I should clasp your knees;
So 'tis my soul that's at your feet. My soul
You never can remove from reverence.
I came to seek forgiveness (and the time
Is meet, indeed, since death is near, perhaps!),
Your pardon for--how frivolous I was!--
Once loving you for beauty's sake alone.
CHRISTIAN (_frightened_).
Roxane!
ROXANE.
But later, dear, with growing sense,
--A bird will hop before it learns to soar--
I marked your soul outshining e'en your looks,
And then I loved you more for both.
CHRISTIAN.
And now?
ROXANE.
You have, in short, yourself outshone yourself,
And now I love you for your soul alone.
CHRISTIAN.
Roxane!
ROXANE.
Rejoice! What is a love we owe
To passing gifts, to beauty doomed to fade?
It's torture for an eager, noble heart.
My thoughts of you recall no handsome face;
Your beauty that, at first, had captured me,
Now that my eyes are opened, strikes me not.
CHRISTIAN.
Oh!
ROXANE.
Doubt you not what victory is yours!
CHRISTIAN.
Roxane!
ROXANE.
I understand. Such love as this
Is past belief.
CHRISTIAN.
'Tis not the love I seek.
I wish to be belovèd simply for....
ROXANE.
For what some others prized before to-day?
Oh! let your heart make room for better love!
CHRISTIAN.
Roxane, your former love was better.
ROXANE.
Nay!
'Tis now I love you better, most and well!
'Tis what is really you that now I love,
And I should love you still if you should cease....
CHRISTIAN.
Oh! hush, Roxane.
ROXANE.
Yes, cease to look so grand.
CHRISTIAN.
If I were homely?
ROXANE.
Even hideous!
CHRISTIAN.
Roxane!....
ROXANE.
The thought should give you joy profound.
CHRISTIAN (_in a husky voice_).
Yes....
ROXANE.
What troubles you?
CHRISTIAN (_gently pushing her off_).
Nothing. I have an order to give! One second, please....
ROXANE.
But....
CHRISTIAN (_pointing to a group of Cadets in the rear_).
My love for you, my selfishness, has deprived these poor fellows of your
sweet company. Go smile to them a little, since they are about to
die.... Go!
ROXANE (_moved_).
How good you are, dear Christian!....
(_She goes up to the Gascons, who respectfully surround her._)
_SCENE IX._
CHRISTIAN, CYRANO: _in the rear_, ROXANE _speaking
with_ CARBON _and some of the Cadets_.
CHRISTIAN (_calling out in the direction of Cyrano's tent_).
Cyrano!
CYRANO (_coming out armed for battle_).
What is it? You are white as a ghost!
CHRISTIAN.
She loves me no more!
CYRANO.
How so?
CHRISTIAN.
You are the one she loves.
CYRANO.
Nonsense!
CHRISTIAN.
Now my soul is all she loves.
CYRANO.
Fiddlesticks!
CHRISTIAN.
I tell you it is so! You therefore are the one she loves,--and you love
her.
CYRANO.
I?
CHRISTIAN.
I know it!
CYRANO.
Well, it is true.
CHRISTIAN.
You love her madly.
CYRANO.
More than that.
CHRISTIAN.
Tell her so!
CYRANO.
No!
CHRISTIAN.
Why not?
CYRANO.
Look at my face!
CHRISTIAN.
She said she would love me even if I were homely!
CYRANO.
She really told you so?
CHRISTIAN.
She did!
CYRANO.
I am very glad she said so! But you must not believe anything so wild.
Do not lose your beauty, for then she would hate me too much.
CHRISTIAN.
That we shall see. Let her choose! Tell her all.
CYRANO.
No, no! Do not put me to such torture!
CHRISTIAN.
Would you have me destroy your happiness because of my good looks? That
would be too unjust!
CYRANO.
And I should ruin yours because I happen, by mere chance, to have the
gift of expressing.... that which no doubt you feel?
CHRISTIAN.
Tell her all, I say!
CYRANO.
You persist in tempting me. It is wrong!
CHRISTIAN.
I am tired of having a rival in myself!
CYRANO.
Oh! Christian!
CHRISTIAN.
Our marriage.... without witnesses.... quite secret, in fact, could be
annulled.... should we survive!
CYRANO.
How obstinate he is!....
CHRISTIAN.
Perhaps,....but I desire to be loved for myself,....or not at all!--But
enough!... I had better go see how things are progressing. I'll return
presently; meanwhile, speak, and let her prefer one of us two!
CYRANO.
It shall be you!
CHRISTIAN.
Well.... I hope so!
(_he calls out_) Roxane!
CYRANO.
No, do not call her, please!
ROXANE (_running in_).
What is it?
CHRISTIAN.
Cyrano will tell you... something.... important....
(_She runs up to Cyrano. Exit Christian._)
_SCENE X._
ROXANE, CYRANO, _later_ LE BRET, CARBON OF HAUGHTY-HALL,
THE CADETS, RAGUENEAU, GUICHE, _etc._
ROXANE.
Something important?....
CYRANO (_bewildered_).
What! he is gone!.... (_to Roxane_)
Oh, nothing!....
he attaches--Oh! well, you must know him!--a great deal
of importance to trifles!
ROXANE (_eagerly_).
He doubts, perhaps, the truth of what I said?.... I could almost see he
did not believe it!....
CYRANO (_taking her by the hand_).
But was what you said really true?
ROXANE.
Certainly. I would love him even.... (_she hesitates a second._)
CYRANO (_smiling sadly_).
You stop at the word.... in my presence?
ROXANE.
But....
CYRANO.
It will not hurt my feelings! You meant: Even if he were homely!
ROXANE.
Yes.... homely!
(_Sound of musketry in the rear._)
CYRANO (_ardently_).
Abominably so?
ROXANE.
Yes!
CYRANO.
Disfigured?
ROXANE.
Yes, disfigured!
CYRANO.
Grotesque?
ROXANE.
Nothing can make him look grotesque.... to me!
CYRANO.
And then you would love him still?
ROXANE.
More, perhaps!
CYRANO (_losing his self control, aside_).
Good God! It is true, perhaps, and happiness is there! (_to Roxane_).
Well, then.... Roxane.... listen!....
LE BRET (_entering rapidly and calling in a low voice_).
Cyrano!
CYRANO (_turning around_).
What is it?
LE BRET.
Hush! (_whispers to him a few words._)
CYRANO (_dropping Roxane's hand_).
Great God!....
ROXANE.
What has happened?
CYRANO (_stupefied_).
It is all over!
(_Sounds of musketry again._)
ROXANE.
What is it? Why all this firing?
(_She goes up and looks beyond the embankment._)
CYRANO.
All over! I never can tell her!
ROXANE (_as if going to rush out_).
What is going on?
CYRANO (_restraining her_).
Nothing! nothing!
(_Cadets enter bearing something which they conceal by forming
around it a group that keeps Roxane at a distance._)
ROXANE.
What are these men here for?
CYRANO (_leading her away_).
Never mind them!....
ROXANE.
But what is it you were going to say before this disturbance?
CYRANO.
Going to say?.... Nothing. Oh! nothing, I swear it, Madam! (_Solemnly_)
I swear that the spirit of Christian and his soul were.... (_correcting
himself_) _are_ the greatest....
ROXANE.
You said: were!
(_With a shriek_). Ah!.... (_she rushes back, pushing the men
aside._)
CYRANO.
The end has come!
ROXANE (_seeing Christian laid out in his cloak_).
Christian!
LE BRET (_to Cyrano_).
The first shot fired by the enemy!
(_Roxane throws herself upon the body of Christian. Musketry again.
Clash of arms. Shouts. Drums._)
CARBON OF HAUGHTY-HALL (_sword in hand_).
The attack! to your arms!
(_Followed by the Cadets he goes to the other side of the
embankment._)
ROXANE (_in despair_).
Christian! Christian!
THE VOICE OF CARBON (_from behind the embankment_).
Make haste there!
ROXANE.
Christian!
CARBON.
_Fall into line!_
ROXANE.
Christian!
CARBON.
_Measure.... match!_
(_Ragueneau has rushed up bringing some water in a helmet._)
CHRISTIAN (_in dying tone_).
Roxane!....
CYRANO (_quickly and in a low tone, in the ear
of Christian, while Roxane, frantic, dips
into the water of the helmet a piece of
linen which she has torn from her breast_).
I told her all! and it is you she still loves!
(_Christian closes his eyes._)
ROXANE.
What is it, my love?
CARBON.
_Ramrods.... high!_
ROXANE (_to Cyrano_).
He is not dead?....
CARBON.
_Open charge.... with teeth!_
ROXANE.
I feel, here against mine, his cheek getting cold!
CARBON (_outside_).
_Take aim!_
ROXANE.
A letter in his bosom! (_she opens the letter_) for me!
CYRANO (_aside_).
My letter!
CARBON.
_Fire!_
(_Musketry. Cries. Noise of battle._)
CYRANO (_trying to draw away his hand that is
held by Roxane, who is on her knees_).
But, Roxane, I must join in the fight!
ROXANE (_holding him back_).
Stay just a little. He is dead, and you were the only one who really
knew him.
(_She weeps softly._) Is it not true that he had an exquisite soul,
a marvellous one?
CYRANO (_standing bareheaded_).
Yes, Roxane!
ROXANE.
That he was a thrilling poet, an adorable one?
CYRANO.
Yes, Roxane!
ROXANE.
A sublime spirit?
CYRANO.
Yes, Roxane!
ROXANE.
That he had a heart large and brave, too deep to be fathomed by the
crowd?
CYRANO (_firmly_).
Yes, Roxane!
ROXANE (_throwing herself upon the body of Christian_).
And he is dead!
CYRANO (_aside, as he draws his sword_).
And I to-day can but die, since, though she knows it not, it is for me
she is weeping over him!
(_Sound of trumpets in the distance._)
GUICHE (_reappearing on the embankment, hatless,
wounded in the forehead; with a voice of
thunder_).
It is the signal that was promised! the trumpets! our comrades come with
help and food! Hold fast a few minutes!
ROXANE.
On his letter blood .... and tears!
A VOICE (_outside the embankment_).
Surrender!
THE CADETS.
No!
RAGUENEAU (_who has climbed upon the coach,
and is looking at the battle over the
embankment_).
We are lost!
CYRANO (_to Guiche, pointing to Roxane_).
Carry her off! I will charge!
ROXANE (_in dying tones, as she kisses the letter_).
His blood! His tears!....
RAGUENEAU (_jumping off the coach and running toward her_).
She is fainting!
GUICHE (_on the embankment, fiercely, to the Cadets_).
Steady, for your lives!
A VOICE (_outside_).
Lay down your arms!
THE CADETS.
Never!
CYRANO (_to Guiche_).
You have proved your valour, Sir! You can afford to fly (_pointing to
Roxane_) and save her!
GUICHE (_runs to Roxane and takes her in his arms_).
So be it! Hold fast a few moments and we shall win the day!
CYRANO.
We'll hold to the death!
(_In a voice of anguish, looking toward Roxane, whom Guiche and
Ragueneau are carrying away senseless_).
Farewell, Roxane!
(_Tumult. Cries. Wounded Cadets reappear and fall within the
embankment. Cyrano, rushing to the fray, is stopped on the crest of
the embankment by Carbon of Haughty-Hall, covered with blood._)
CARBON.
We are wavering! I have received two gun shots.
CYRANO (_shouting to the Gascons_).
Steady there! Hold fast, you rascals!
(_to Carbon, holding him up_).
Have no fear! I have two deaths to avenge: Christian's and that of my
happiness!
(_Both come down. Cyrano brandishes a lance to which is attached
the handkerchief of Roxane._)
Float bravely on, you little flag of lace that is hers! (_He plants the
lance into the ground and cries to the Cadets_).
Fall upon them now! Crush them! (_to the fife player_) And you, strike
up!
(_The fife plays. The wounded rise to their feet. The Cadets form a
group around Cyrano and the little flag; others climb into and upon
the coach, making it look like a small fortress._)
A CADET (_coming up from the outside of the
embankment, backward, still fighting_).
They come! they come!
(_Falls down dead._)
CYRANO.
We'll give them a salute!
(_The embankment is at once occupied by a troop of the enemy, with
large flags waving._)
Fire!
(_General discharge._)
ORDER (_from the enemy's ranks_).
Fire!
(_Most of the Cadets fall, either wounded or dead._)
A SPANISH OFFICER (_taking off his hat_).
Who are these people dying so bravely?
CYRANO (_erect and proudly reciting_).
Fair Gascony's cadets are they,
With Carbon,--He of Haughty-Hall;
They fight and lie without dismay,
(_He rushes on to enemy, followed by a few surviving Cadets._)
Fair Gascony's cadets....
(_The rest is lost in the noise of battle._)
_CURTAIN._
[Illustration: _FOURTH ACT._]
_ACT V._
CYRANO'S GAZETTE.
_Fifteen years later, in 1655. The garden of the Convent of the Ladies
of the Cross, in Paris._
_Beautiful shade trees. To the left, the house. Wide porch on which
several doors open. In the centre of the stage, an enormous
overspreading tree standing alone in a sort of open circle. To the
right, first entrance, backed by high box-wood bushes, a semi-circular
stone bench._
_In the rear an avenue of chestnut trees leading up to fourth entrance,
right, where the door of the Chapel can be seen through the branches.
Beyond the avenue, lawns, other rows of trees, shrubbery and the sky._
_The Chapel has a small side door, from which starts, running down to
the right, first entrance, behind the box-wood bushes, a sort of
colonnade entwined with creepers rich in hues of gold and red._
_It is Autumn. The russet leaves of the trees are in bright contrast
with the green lawns, except the box-wood and yew-trees that form dark
spots here and there. Yellow leaves beneath the trees; fallen leaves
everywhere on the ground, on the porch and on the benches._
_Between the stone bench to the right and the tree in the centre, a
tapestry frame, and in front of it a chair. Baskets full of worsted
skeins and balls. On the frame, a piece of tapestry-work, unfinished._
_As the curtain rises, sisters are going and coming through the garden;
some are seated on the bench, on either side of an elderly sister.
Leaves are falling._
_SCENE I._
MOTHER MARGARET, SISTER MARTHA, SISTER CLAIRE, _other_ SISTERS.
SISTER MARTHA (_to Mother Margaret_).
Sister Claire looked at herself twice in the mirror.
MOTHER MARGARET (_to Sister Claire_).
That was very wrong!
SISTER CLAIRE.
But Sister Martha pulled a plum out of the pie this morning; I saw her
do it.
MOTHER MARGARET (_to Sister Martha_).
Very wrong, indeed, Sister Martha!
SISTER CLAIRE.
A little bit of a look!
SISTER MARTHA.
A little bit of a plum!
MOTHER MARGARET.
I'll have to tell Mr. Cyrano.
SISTER CLAIRE (_frightened_).
Oh! please, do not, he would tease us!....
SISTER MARTHA.
.... Say that we are vain!....
SISTER CLAIRE.
.... Or great gluttons!....
MOTHER MARGARET (_smiling_).
But full of goodness.
SISTER CLAIRE.
Is it not true, Mother, that he has been coming here, every Saturday,
for the last ten years?
MOTHER MARGARET.
And more. Ever since his cousin, fourteen years ago, saddened the
whiteness of our caps with the darkness of her widow's veil, as would a
bird of sombre hue alighting 'mid a flight of brighter birds.
SISTER MARTHA.
And he alone can relieve with a ray of light the grief that she persists
in feeding.
THE OTHER SISTERS.
He is so entertaining!--It is fun when he comes!--He teases us!--He is
so kind!--We love him so!--And we make sweets for him!
SISTER MARTHA.
But he is not a very good Catholic!
SISTER CLAIRE.
We'll convert him!
THE OTHER SISTERS.
Assuredly, we will!
MOTHER MARGARET.
I forbid your tormenting him on that score, children. He might come here
less often?
SISTER MARTHA.
But.... dear Mother.... God....
MOTHER MARGARET.
Have no fear.... God knows him!
SISTER MARTHA.
But, every Saturday, as he enters, he says proudly: "Sister, like a bad
Catholic, I ate meat yesterday!"
MOTHER MARGARET.
Is that what he says? Well, the last time he came he had eaten nothing
whatever for two days.
SISTER MARTHA.
Mother!
MOTHER MARGARET.
He is very poor. Mr. Le Bret told me so.
SISTER MARTHA.
And no one assists him!
MOTHER MARGARET.
He is proud and would not accept assistance.
(_Roxane is seen in the rear; she is in black, wearing the long
veil of a widow. Guiche, grown older, but magnificently clad,
accompanies her. They walk slowly, Mother Margaret rises._)
Come, it is time to get in.--Here is Madam Madeleine, with a visitor.
SISTER MARTHA (_aside to Sister Claire_).
It is the Marshall--Duke de Grammont.
SISTER CLAIRE.
Yes, I think it is.
SISTER MARTHA.
He has not come to see her for months!
SISTER CLAIRE.
The court--the army--the world--keep him away, I suppose.
(_Exeunt Sisters. Guiche and Roxane come down in silence, and stop
near the tapestry frame. A pause._)
_SCENE II._
ROXANE, DUKE DE GRAMMONT (_formerly Count de Guiche_);
_later_ LE BRET _and_ RAGUENEAU.
DUKE.
And so you persist in remaining in this seclusion, uselessly lovely,
forever in mourning?
ROXANE.
Forever!
DUKE.
Ever true to his memory?
ROXANE.
Ever!
DUKE.
You have forgiven me?
ROXANE.
Yes! Since I am here.
(_A pause._)
DUKE.
And he was truly so?....
ROXANE.
You never really knew him!
DUKE.
Probably!.... And his last letter lies on your heart always?
ROXANE.
Like a blessèd talisman it hangs on this ribbon.
DUKE.
You love him even dead?
ROXANE.
At times it seems as if he'd left me not,
As if our hearts still beat as one, as if
His love still coiled around me, strong, alive!
(_Another pause._)
DUKE.
Does Cyrano ever come to see you?
ROXANE.
Yes, often. He is a very dear old friend, and he brings me all the news.
He comes regularly, every Saturday. As the hour strikes, while I am at
work on my tapestry, I know, without even turning around to see, that he
is here, for I can hear his stick on the stone steps. If the weather is
fine, he sits under this tree, where his chair awaits him. He laughs at
what he calls my eternal work, relates to me the events of the week,
and....
(_Le Bret appears on the porch._)
Why! here is Le Bret!
(_to Le Bret, who has come down_).
And how is our friend?
LE BRET.
Not at all well.
DUKE.
Oh! I'm sorry.
ROXANE (_to Duke_).
Le Bret exaggerates!
LE BRET.
All as I predicted: desertion and poverty!.... His epistles have made
him new enemies! He denounces mock nobility, mock piety, mock bravery,
plagiarism,--in fact everybody!
ROXANE.
But the fear of his wonderful sword holds them all in respect. They'll
never reach him.
DUKE (_shaking his head_).
Who knows?
LE BRET.
What I fear for him is not an assault; it is solitude, hunger, winter
stealthily entering his poor abode. These are the enemies that may lay
him low.--Each morning he buckles his belt a little tighter. His nose
has now the sallowness of old ivory. His wardrobe is reduced to one suit
of black.
DUKE.
Ah! he at least is not a parvenu. So, do not pity him too much. He has
lived free from obligations and humiliating restraint.
LE BRET (_smiling sadly_).
Duke, Duke!....
DUKE.
Yes, I know: I have everything, and he has nothing.... But I should very
much like to shake his hand.
(_bowing to Roxane_). Farewell.
ROXANE.
I'll see you to the gate.
(_The Duke bows to Le Bret, and goes, with Roxane, towards the
house._)
DUKE (_stopping a moment_).
I envy him at times. You see, Roxane,
When we have had too much success in life,
Although we've done no very wicked act--
We feel within a thousand sickly stings
Of self-reproach; their total is too small
To constitute remorse, but large enough
To keep us in a dull uneasiness.
Thus ducal mantles sweep, as we ascend
The steps of greatness, with their fringe of furs
A rustling heap of withered sentiments,
As now your sombre train, upon the porch,
Draws in its folds a bunch of autumn leaves.
ROXANE (_ironically_).
You are in a very sentimental mood.
THE DUKE.
Alas! yes.
(_as he is about to go out, abruptly_).
Monsieur Le Bret!
(_to Roxane_).
By your permission, one word.
(_to Le Bret in a low tone_).
It is true; no one would
dare to attack your friend. But there are many who hate
him, and somebody said to me, yesterday, at the Queen's
reception: "This Cyrano is not unlikely to meet some day
with an accident." Tell him not to be about too much.
To be prudent.
LE BRET (_throwing up his arms_).
Prudent, he! But he is coming here to-day, and I must warn him, though I
doubt if that will do much good.
ROXANE (_who has remained on the porch, to a
sister coming up to her_).
What is it?
THE SISTER.
Ragueneau wishes to see you, Madam.
ROXANE.
Let him in.
(_Exit Sister._) (_to Duke and to Le Bret_).
He comes to tell his woes.
He started to be an author, but became in turn a chanter....
LE BRET.
A bath-keeper....
ROXANE.
An actor....
LE BRET.
A beadle....
ROXANE.
A barber....
LE BRET.
An archlute-teacher....
ROXANE.
To-day what can he have become?
RAGUENEAU (_entering rapidly_).
Oh! Madam!
(_noticing Le Bret_). Oh! Sir!
ROXANE (_smiling_).
Tell your misfortunes to Le Bret. I shall be back presently.
(_Exit Roxane, with the Duke, without listening to Ragueneau, who
comes down toward Le Bret._)
_SCENE III._
LE BRET, RAGUENEAU.
RAGUENEAU.
After all, since you are here, Sir, it is just as well that she should
be kept in ignorance! I was on my way to see your friend, this
afternoon, when, as I was nearing his door, I saw him coming out. As I
was endeavouring to overtake him, and as he was turning the corner, a
window above him opened, and,--was it through accident? perhaps! a
lackey dropped upon him a heavy log of wood.
LE BRET.
Cowards!.... Abominable!
RAGUENEAU.
Our friend, Sir, our poet, lay there on the ground with a large hole in
his head!
LE BRET.
Is he dead?
RAGUENEAU.
No! but in what a state! I carried him up to his room... his room! You
should see what it is!
LE BRET.
He is in great pain?
RAGUENEAU.
No, Sir, he has not recovered his senses.
LE BRET.
You found a doctor?
RAGUENEAU.
Yes, one who was good enough to come.
LE BRET.
Unfortunate Cyrano!--We must break the news gently to Roxane.--And what
said the doctor?
RAGUENEAU.
He spoke of fever.... meningitis. Oh! if you saw him.... with his poor
head bandaged!.... Come quickly, Sir, there is nobody with him! It would
be death to him if he left his bed!
LE BRET (_urging him toward the right_).
This way is shorter; through the Chapel!
ROXANE (_appearing on the porch, and seeing Le
Bret and Ragueneau running up the colonnade
to the Chapel!_)
Monsieur Le Bret!
(_Exeunt Le Bret and Ragueneau without answering._)
No doubt another of good Ragueneau's troubles.
_SCENE IV._
ROXANE _alone, two_ SISTERS _a moment_.
How beautiful these last September days!
My sadness fain would smile. Spring's ardour oft
Offends our grief, but Autumn chastens it.
(_She sits down before her work. Two sisters sally from the house
carrying a large armchair that they place under the tree._)
Ah! here's the chair in which Cyrano sits.
(_Exeunt Sisters._)
The hour strikes.... he's coming.--Where are my skeins!--He's not here
yet? The first time he is late.... My thimble.... Here it is. Some
sister preaching to him, no doubt.
(_A pause._)
How thickly fall the leaves!....
(_She removes some dead leaves from her work._)
Moreover, what could prevent his coming?
A SISTER (_from the porch_).
Monsieur de Bergerac.
_SCENE V._
ROXANE, CYRANO, _and, one moment_, SISTER MARTHA.
ROXANE (_without turning around_).
Why did I worry so?
(_She works.--Enter Cyrano, very pale, with his hat well over his
eyes. Exit sister who announced him. He descends the steps slowly,
with a visible effort to remain erect, leaning heavily on his
stick._)
For the first time in fourteen years, you are late!
CYRANO (_who has gained his chair and seated
himself, speaks in a cheerful tone, in
contrast with his looks_).
Yes, and, in truth, I boil with rage. I was delayed....
ROXANE.
By what, by whom?
CYRANO.
By an intruder.
ROXANE (_distraught_).
Some bore? But you got rid of him, or her.
CYRANO.
Yes. "Excuse me," said I, "but this is Saturday, and I have a weekly
engagement that nothing can prevent me from keeping. Return an hour
hence!"
ROXANE (_lightly_).
The person shall wait. I'll keep you here until evening.
CYRANO.
I may be compelled to leave you sooner.
(_He closes his eyes and remains silent a moment. Sister Martha
appears in the rear going to the Chapel. Roxane sees her, and
nods._)
ROXANE (_to Cyrano_).
How is it you do not tease Sister Martha to-day?
CYRANO (_rapidly, opening his eyes_).
Tease? Of course!
(_with affected severity_).
Sister Martha! Come here.
(_Sister Martha goes up to him._)
Ha! ha! Your eyes are too fine to remain thus forever down!
SISTER MARTHA (_smiling_).
But....
(_She notices his pale looks._)
Oh!