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.
Photograph from Play.FOURTH ACT.
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.
MOTHER MARGARET,SISTER MARTHA,SISTER CLAIRE,otherSISTERS.
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.)
ROXANE,DUKE DE GRAMMONT(formerly Count de Guiche);laterLE BRETandRAGUENEAU.
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 ifHis 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 morninghe 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 stingsOf self-reproach; their total is too smallTo constitute remorse, but large enoughTo keep us in a dull uneasiness.Thus ducal mantles sweep, as we ascendThe steps of greatness, with their fringe of fursA 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.)
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.
ROXANEalone, twoSISTERSa moment.
How beautiful these last September days!My sadness fain would smile. Spring's ardour oftOffends 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.
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!
CYRANO(aside, pointing to Roxane)
Hush! It's nothing.
(aloud, in boastful tone).
I ate meat yesterday! Friday!
SISTER MARTHA.
Yes, I know.
(aside). That is the reason he looks so pale!
(to Cyrano rapidly and in a low tone). Come to the refectory by and by. I want to make you taste some broth..... Will you come?
CYRANO.
Yes, yes, yes.
SISTER MARTHA.
Oh! you are very reasonable to-day.
ROXANE(who notices their whispering).
Is she trying to convert you?
SISTER MARTHA.
Oh! nothing of the kind!
CYRANO.
It is a fact! You always have an abundance of saintly sermons, and to-day, Sister, you are not preaching to me.
(with affected fury).
Swords and muskets! I, too, shall astonish you! See here, I will permit you....
(Affects to be thinking and to have found a good jest.)
Ah! this is something new.... to.... to pray for me, to-night, in the chapel.
ROXANE.
Oh! oh! this is serious.
CYRANO(laughing).
Sister Martha is dumfounded!
SISTER MARTHA(gently).
I did not wait for your permission.
(Exit Sister Martha.)
CYRANO(returning to Roxane, who is leaning over her work).
I verily believe there never will be an end to this task of yours.
ROXANE.
I am getting accustomed to this remark.
(Just then a few dead leaves fall on Roxane's work.)
CYRANO.
Oh! withered leaves!
ROXANE(looking at the landscape).
Poor blondes of Venice hue,How fast they fall!
CYRANO.
They fall, but see how well!Their race is short, and still they sweetly showHow beauty e'er recoils from rottenness:For, as they drop, they do not in their graceAppear to fall, but rather to alight!
ROXANE.
Unusually sad thoughts for you!
CYRANO(recovering his presence of mind).
Sad? Not at all, Roxane!
ROXANE.
Come, let the dead leaves fall as they will....Better give me the news, be my weekly gazette.
CYRANO.
Agreed!
ROXANE.
I'm listening.
CYRANO(getting paler and paler, as he struggles against pain).
Saturday, the 19th, having over indulged in grape-jam from Cette, the King was taken with fever; his indisposition was sentenced, for high treason, to be twice lanced, and the royal pulse was relieved of febricity![25]At the Queen's ball, on Sunday, seven hundred and sixty-three candles of white wax were burned. Our troops have been victorious, it is said, over those of John the Austrian; four sorcerers have been hung! the little dog of Madam d'Athis was given....
ROXANE.
Monsieur de Bergerac, you may omit the details!
CYRANO.
Monday.... nothing. Oh! yes, Lygdamire took a new lover.
ROXANE.
Oh!
CYRANO(whose suffering is evidently increasing).
Tuesday, all the Court was at Fontainebleu. Wednesday, the beauty Montglat said to Count de Fiesque: No! Thursday, Mancini, Queen of France,—or almost! the 25th, Montglat said to Fiesque: Yes; and Saturday, 26th....
(His eyes close. His head falls upon his shoulder. Silence.)
ROXANE(surprised at hearing nothing more, turns around, looks at him, and rises very much frightened).
Has he fainted?
(Runs up to him.) Cyrano!
CYRANO(opening his eyes and speaking somewhat indistinctly).
What is it?.... Who?.... When?....
(He sees Roxane leaning over him, and, quickly securing his hat on his head, backs up into his armchair.)
No! no! I assure you, it is nothing.I am quite myself again.
ROXANE.
But allow me....
CYRANO.
It is the old wound I received at Arras.... that.... sometimes.... you know....
ROXANE.
Dearest friend!
CYRANO.
But, it is nothing serious. Soon over.
(makes an effort to smile).
Quite well again now.
ROXANE(standing near him).
We each of us have our wound: I, too, have one, ever smarting; I feel it here, old though it be,
(placing her hand on her breast)
right here, beneath the time-worn letter on which can still be seen the trace of tears and blood!
(Dusk begins to come on.)
CYRANO.
His letter!.... Did you not say that some day, perhaps, you would allow me to read it?
ROXANE.
What! you wish?.... his letter?....
CYRANO.
Yes.... I wish.... to-day....
ROXANE.
(handing him the sachet she carries suspended to her neck).
Here it is!
CYRANO(taking it).
I may open?
ROXANE.
You may open and read!....
(She returns to her work, folds it up and arranges her worsteds.)
CYRANO(reading).
"Roxane, farewell! The time...."
ROXANE(stopping, astonished).
You read aloud?
CYRANO(reading).
"Roxane, farewell! The time of death has come;This eve, I think, belovèd, is my last.My soul's still rich in unexpressèd love,And I must die! My dazzled eyes no more,My eyes for which you were...."
ROXANE.
Why! how you readHis lines!....
CYRANO(continuing).
".... for which you were a thrilling feast,No more will drink your ev'ry motion, dear.There's one that I recall, so truly yours,To smooth your hair, and I would cry aloud...."
ROXANE.
How can you know?....
(Darkness comes on by degrees.)
CYRANO(continuing).
"....And now I cry, indeed:Farewell!...."
ROXANE.
You read as if....
CYRANO(continuing).
".... My dearest dear,My treasure...."
ROXANE.
Oh! that voice!
CYRANO(continuing).
"My love!...."
ROXANE.
That voice!That voice.... I know I heard it once before!
(She passes behind him, leans over the chair, without his noticing her, and looks over the letter. Darkness increases.)
CYRANO(continuing).
"My yearning heart has never left you once.And I am he, and Death will leave me heWho loved you, dear, beyond all measure, he...."
ROXANE(placing her hand on his shoulder).
But how is it you still can read? Night has come.
(He shudders, turns, sees her near by, moves as if greatly alarmed, and hangs his head. Long silence. It is quite dark. She joins her hands, and speaks slowly:)
And during fourteen years you have played this part of an old friend who comes to amuse!
CYRANO.
Roxane!
ROXANE.
It was you.
CYRANO.
No, no, Roxane, you mistake!
ROXANE.
I should have felt it each time you said my name!
CYRANO.
It was not I!
ROXANE.
It was!
CYRANO.
I swear to you....
ROXANE.
Swear not, for now I understand your generous deceit. The letters were yours....
CYRANO.
No!
ROXANE.
The dear and tender words were yours....
CYRANO.
No!
ROXANE.
That voice in the night was yours!
CYRANO.
I swear it was not!
ROXANE.
That soul was yours!
CYRANO.
I loved you not!
ROXANE.
You did!
CYRANO.
It was the other!
ROXANE.
You loved me!
CYRANO.
No!
ROXANE.
You did, for each of your denials is lower than the one before!
CYRANO.
No, no, my dearest, no, I loved you not!
ROXANE.
How many things are dead!.... how many born!....—Oh! through these years why were you silent thus,Since on these lines, not his by word or thought,The tears were yours?
CYRANO.
Because the blood is his!
ROXANE.
Why then allow a silence that's sublimeTo break as now?
CYRANO.
Roxane, oh! why, indeed?
(Le Bret and Ragueneau enter on a run.)
The same,LE BRETandRAGUENEAU.
LE BRET.
How imprudent! I was sure of it! He is here!
CYRANO(smiling and straightening himself up).
Of course, I'm here!
LE BRET.
It is suicide, Madam, for him to have left his bed!
ROXANE.
Great God! But just now, then....this weakness?.... this fainting?
CYRANO.
Oh! by the way, I did not finish my weekly chronicle: ....and Saturday, 26th, one hour before dinner, Monsieur de Bergerac was assassinated in the street.
(He takes off his hat, and his head is seen wrapped in bandages.)
ROXANE.
What did he say?—Cyrano!—his poor head!.... What have they done to you?
CYRANO.
"And in my heart a sword's ennobling point!"—So said I once!.... What mockery in fate!....And now I'm killed ignobly from behind,O'erpowered by a lackey with a log.I missed my life; my death's a failure too!
RAGUENEAU.
Oh! sir....Oh! sir....
CYRANO.
Good Ragueneau, grieve not so!....
(Extends his hand to him.)
And what are you doing now, my brother poet?
RAGUENEAU(through his tears).
I am the one who.... who snuffs the candles at Molière's.[26]
CYRANO.
Molière!
RAGUENEAU.
But I shall leave him to-morrow. For I am indignant!.... Yesterday he gaveScapin, and I saw that he had taken from you a whole scene!
LE BRET.
Entire?
RAGUENEAU.
Yes, sir; the famous: "What the deuce was he doing?...."
LE BRET(to Cyrano).
Molière has robbed you!
CYRANO.
Hush! hush! he did well!....
(to Ragueneau).
The scene was very effective, was it not?
RAGUENEAU(sobbing).
Oh! sir, what a laugh! what a laugh! through the whole audience!
CYRANO.
My life, you see, is all in this: I've beenThe one who prompts—and ever is forgot!
(to Roxane).
Do you recall the night when Christian spokeHis love for you—beneath your balcony?The words were mine, and mine the fondest thoughts;But I remained below, unknown, in darkness, whileAnother went aloft to gather light and love!'Tis justice, and my dying breath approves;Molière has genius, Christian's beauty won.
(The chapel bell sounds. Sisters pass in the rear, going to evening service.)
It's time for prayer; the bell that tolls is right!
ROXANE(rising to call).
Come, Sister!
CYRANO(restraining her).
Leave me not to call for help!On your return, you would not find me here.
(The sisters have entered the chapel, and the organ begins to play.)
I yearned for harmony; and now it's come!
ROXANE.
I love you, live!
CYRANO.
In fairy tales aloneCan love dispel the curse of homeliness.You'd soon discover that I cannot change.
ROXANE.
You've suffered....and through me!
CYRANO.
Through you? Not so!I never knew a woman's gentleness.My mother found me homely. Sister, none;And as to lady-loves, they would have laughedAt me. Through you, at least, I had a friend;Through you I've known the spell a gown can bring!
LE BRET(showing the moonlight through the trees).
Another friend of yours is there!
CYRANO(smiling to the moon).
I see.
ROXANE.
I loved but one, and here I lose him twice!
CYRANO.
And now, Le Bret, I'll mount, and reach the moon,Although I've not completed that machine....
LE BRET.
Oh! speak not thus!
CYRANO.
Why not? 'Tis there, I say,That I'll be sent to seek for paradise.How many souls I love are there in bliss!Good Socrates and Galileo too!
LE BRET(indignant).
No! no! this is too stupid, too unjust! Such a poet! A heart so big and lofty! To die thus!.... To die!....
CYRANO.
There is Le Bret growling again!
LE BRET(bursting into tears).
My dearest friend!....
CYRANO(rising, with wildness in his eyes).
Fair Gascony's Cadets are they.... The elementary mass.... Why! yes!....—There is the rub....
LE BRET.
Alas! delirious!
CYRANO.
Copernicus said....
ROXANE.
Dreadful! dreadful!
CYRANO.
What the deuce was he doing, what the deuce was he doing in that galley?....
Philosopher and physicist,A rimester, swordsman and musician,A man who travelled in the airAs prompt with parry as reply,A lover too—alas!—here liesSir Hercules, SavinianDe Cyrano de Bergerac,Who compassed all and still was naught.
But I must leave! I would not cause a wait.Your pardon. See! the moon sends down for me!
(A ray of light from the moon is on him. He falls back into his chair. The weeping of Roxane wakes him from his dreamy state. He looks at her and strokes her veil.)
I would not have you weep a wit the lessFor Christian, who was all that's good and grand.But, when the hand of ice has laid me low,I would your weeds might have a double senseOf mourning: first for him....and then for me!
ROXANE.
I swear to you....
CYRANO(shaking with fever, rises suddenly).
No! never! In a chair!
(to those who advance to assist him).
No help!.... From anybody!....
(leaning back against the tree).
.... But the tree!
(Silence.)
It[27]comes!—I have already marble boots....And gloves of lead!....
(He straightens up.)
What matters?—Since It's here,I'll meet it standing and....
(draws his sword)
....with sword in hand!
LE BRET.
Cyrano!
ROXANE(overcome).
God!
(All fall back aghast.)
CYRANO.
Ha! ha! I think it looks....It dares to look—the flat face—at my nose!
(Brandishes his sword.)
What say you?....That it's useless?....Don't I know?But valiant hearts contend not for success!It's nobler to defend a hopeless cause!—Who are you all? I count a thousand....more!I know you now: my enemies of old!You're Falsehood!—
(Strikes the open air with his sword.)
Here!—Ha! ha! and Compromise,And Prejudice, and Cowardice!....
(He strikes.)
Submit?No, never! Ah! here's Imbecility!....I know that, in the end, I must succumb,I dare you, though, and strike! and strike! and strike!
(Strikes right and left with his sword, and stops exhausted.)
You take my all, the laurel and the rose!....Well, take them!.... But, in spite of you, there isA something that I bear along with meTo sweep to-night with grandeur, as I pass,The threshold and the gates of heaven's blue;A something that's unsullied and is mine....Do what you will!
(Rushes forward, sword aloft.)
It is....
(Sword drops out of his hand. He staggers and falls into the arms of Le Bret and Ragueneau.)
ROXANE(leaning over him and kissing his forehead).
It is?....
CYRANO(opens his eyes, recognises her and smiles).
....My plume![28]
CURTAIN.