LE BRET.
Never—but whoever notices that nose he wears is sure to get a swordthrust for the attention.
RAGUENEAU.
His sword is one of the two blades of the fatal sisters' scissors!
FIRST MARQUIS(shrugging his shoulders).
He will not come.
RAGUENEAU.
Oh! yes, he will. I'll bet.... a chicken....à la Ragueneau.
(Murmurs of admiration as Roxane appears in her box, where she takes a seat in front, while her duenna sits behind her. Christian, busy paying the waiter-girl, does not notice her entrance.)
SECOND MARQUIS(affectedly).
Oh! gentlemen, she is frightfully lovely!
FIRST MARQUIS.
A peach divine, smiling in a nest of strawberries.[6]
SECOND MARQUIS.
So refreshing that she might give one a cold in the heart!
CHRISTIAN(perceiving Roxane, and clutching Lignière's arm).
It's she!
LIGNIÈRE(looking up).
So this is your deity!
CHRISTIAN.
Yes, speak quickly. I tremble.
LIGNIÈRE(slowly sipping his wine).
Magdeleine Robin, otherwise Roxane. Refined and quick. A "précieuse."
CHRISTIAN.
Alas!
LIGNIÈRE.
Independent. An orphan. Cousin of Cyrano, whom you heard mentioned just now.
(A gentleman, very finely dressed, wearing a blue ribbon crosswise from shoulder to waist, enters the box, and remains engaged in conversation with Roxane.)
CHRISTIAN(starting).
That man?....
LIGNIÈRE(slightly intoxicated, winking).
Ha, ha! The Count de Guiche. Very much in love with her. But he is the husband of Richelieu's niece. And he is urging Roxane to marry rather a sorry fellow, Monsieur de Valvert, who is both of noble birth and.... accommodating. She resists, but Guiche has influence. I wrote a song on the subject. No doubt he bears me a grudge for it. The end is cutting. Just listen:
(He rises, holding up his glass, ready to sing.)
CHRISTIAN.
No, stop.—I must leave.
LIGNIÈRE.
And you are going?....
CHRISTIAN.
To seek this Valvert.
LIGNIÈRE.
Take care. Perhaps it's he that might kill you. (Indicating Roxane.) See! she is looking at you.
CHRISTIAN.
True. (He remains, looking up as if transfixed. The pickpockets get close around him.)
LIGNIÈRE.
'Tis I who leave. I'm thirsty and I must be expected—in some tavern!
(Exit unsteadily.)
LE BRET(who has been walking, to Ragueneau).
I feel relieved. Cyrano has not come.
RAGUENEAU(incredulous).
I'd be astonished....
THE AUDIENCE.
The play! The play! The play!
The same, exceptLIGNIÈRE;GUICHE,VALVERT,thenMONTFLEURY.
SECOND MARQUIS(seeing Guiche, as he comes from Roxane's box, crossing the pit, surrounded with fawning friends, among whom Valvert).
Guiche! Ff! Another Gascon!
FIRST MARQUIS.
Yes, of the cool and supple breed, the one that thrives. We had better greet him, believe me.
(Both go up to meet Guiche. General salutations.)
SECOND MARQUIS.
Beautiful ribbons! What colour, Count? "Kiss-me-darling," or "roe's-breast?"
GUICHE.
Colour? "Sickly-Spaniard."
FIRST MARQUIS.
The colour is fast and true; for soon, thanks to your valor, the Spaniard will be worse than uneasy in Flanders!
GUICHE.
I am going to my seat on the stage. Are you coming?
(He and his followers walk up on to the stage. Guiche turns and calls.)
Come along, Valvert!
CHRISTIAN(who has heard, starting).
That viscount! Now I'll fling at him!....
(Puts his hand to his pocket and finds there the hand of a thief.)
(holding on to the pickpocket).
I was looking for a glove!
PICKPOCKET(smiling).
And you find a hand. (Aside and rapidly.) Let me go and I'll tell you a secret.
CHRISTIAN(still holding him).
What secret?
PICKPOCKET.
Lignière, who has just left you, is going to his death. A song of his gave offence to.... some great man, and one hundred men, I know it, will lie in wait for him to-night....
CHRISTIAN(still holding on).
One hundred! Paid by whom?
PICKPOCKET.
Discretion....
CHRISTIAN(shrugging his shoulders).
Oh!
PICKPOCKET(with great dignity).
Professional discretion....
CHRISTIAN.
Where?
PICKPOCKET.
At the Porte de Nesle, his way home. Warn him in time.
CHRISTIAN(freeing the pickpocket).
Where can I find Lignière?
PICKPOCKET.
In one of the taverns near here: "The Golden Wine-Press," "The Fir-Cone," "The Bursting-Belt," "The Two Torches," "The Three Funnels." Go the rounds and leave a note in each.
CHRISTIAN.
I'll do it! The wretches! A hundred men against one! (Looking up toward Roxane.) But to leave her! (With a look of fury toward Valvert.) And him! But I must save Lignière!
(He rushes out. Guiche and his followers have gone on to the stage behind the curtain, to take their seats. The pit is full; so are the galleries and boxes.)
THE AUDIENCE.
The play! The play! Curtain!
TRADESMAN(whose wig flies up hooked by one of the pages above).
My wig! (Shaking his fist at the pages.) Scoundrels!
(All the audience laughs. Sudden silence.)
LE BRET(astonished).
What is it?
TRADESMAN(near Le Bret).
The Cardinal.... there.... in a screened box.
A PAGE.
Good-bye, fun! (Raps on the stage. Order in the audience. Wait.)
A MARQUIS(behind the curtain, during silence).
Snuff that candle!
OTHER MARQUIS(passing through the split in the curtain).
A chair, please!
(A chair is passed, from hand to hand, over the heads of the audience. The marquis takes it and disappears behind the curtain, after sending a few kisses up into the boxes.)
(Three raps on the stage. Curtain is drawn aside. Tableau. Marquises seated on either side of the stage, in impertinent attitudes. Drop represents a bluish pastoral scene. Low music by the violins.)
LE BRET(aside to Ragueneau).
Montfleury comes in at once, does he not?
RAGUENEAU(aside to Le Bret).
Yes. Monsieur de Cyrano is not here, and I have lost my bet.
LE BRET.
I am glad of it.
(A bag-pipe air, and Montfleury appears, a very powerful man in a poetic shepherd's dress: his hat ornamented with roses and his bag-pipe with ribbons.)
THE PIT(applauding).
Bravo, Montfleury! Montfleury!
MONTFLEURY(after bowing, begins his part of Phédon).
"Oh! happy he who far from courts, in solitude,[7]Self-banished, has cast off the chains of servitude,And who, when zephyr sighs and rustles through the leaves...."
A VOICE IN THE PIT.
You rascal, did I not suspend you for a month?
(Astonishment. Everybody eager to see who spoke. Murmurs.)
SEVERAL OF THE AUDIENCE.
What? What is it? Who? Why?
(People in the boxes rise, to see better.)
CUIGY.
It's he!
LE BRET(frightened).
Cyrano!
THE VOICE IN THE PIT.
King of clowns, get off the stage!
THE HOUSE.
Oh!
MONTFLEURY.
But....
THE VOICE IN THE PIT.
You recalcitrate?[8]
VOICES IN THE PIT(and in the boxes).
Silence! Enough! Go on, Montfleury! Montfleury, have no fear!....
MONTFLEURY(in shaking tone).
"Oh! happy he who far from courts, in sol...."
THE VOICE IN THE PIT(more threatening).
Well, you king of knaves, shall I be forced to plant a grove of these upon your shoulders?
(A stick is seen to rise in the pit.)
MONTFLEURY(in still weaker tones).
"Oh! happy he...."
(The stick is shaken threateningly.)
THE VOICE IN THE PIT.
Get off, I say!
THE PIT.
Oh!
MONTFLEURY(almost breathless).
"Oh! happy he who far ...."
CYRANO(in the pit, standing on his chair, arms folded, hat cocked on the side of his head, his mustache bristling and his nose terrible).
I am going to let my temper loose!
(Excitement in the audience.)
The same,CYRANO,thenBELLEROSE,JODELET.
MONTFLEURY(to the Marquises).
Protect me, gentlemen!
A MARQUIS(languidly).
Play on! Play on!
CYRANO.
Now mind me, corpulence! If you play, I'll have to spank your cheeks.
THE MARQUIS.
Enough! Enough!
CYRANO.
Let the gentlemen remain silent on their benches. Otherwise their ribbons will have a taste of my stick.
ALL THE MARQUISES(rising).
This is too much, indeed! Montfleury!
CYRANO.
Montfleury must go, or I shall crop his ears and disembowel him!
A VOICE.
But ....
CYRANO.
He must go!
ANOTHER VOICE.
We cannot ....
CYRANO.
What! Not gone yet!
(As if he were going to turn up his sleeves).
Then must I go upon the stage to cut up this overgrown sausage into slices?
MONTFLEURY(with an attempt at dignity).
By insulting me, Sir, you insult the Muse Thalia!
CYRANO(with great courtesy).
If the Muse Thalia, with whom you are not related, Sir, had the honour of your acquaintance and saw you so fat and so silly, she would certainly give you a lift with her buskin.
THE PIT.
Montfleury! Montfleury! The play.
CYRANO(to the noisy ones around him).
Have pity on my scabbard! If you continue thus, it will lose control of its blade.
(The circle around him widens.)
(to Montfleury).
Get off the stage!
(The crowd closes in on him, muttering.)
(Turning suddenly).
Any objection made?
(Crowd falls back again.)
A VOICE(in the rear).
Monsieur de Cyrano is a tyrant. "La Clorise" shall be played.
THE AUDIENCE.
"La Clorise!" "La Clorise!"
CYRANO.
If I hear that again, I'll slaughter you all.
TRADESMAN.
You are not Samson!
CYRANO.
I will be, my dear Sir, if you'll lend me your jaw.
A LADY(in one of the boxes).
Disgraceful disturbance!
A GENTLEMAN.
Scandalous!
A PAGE.
Oh! What fun!
THE PIT.
Kss! Kss! Montfleury! Cyrano!
CYRANO.
Silence! Such is my order. I challenge the whole pit! Now for the names! Come up here, young heroes. Take the line, please; I'll distribute numbers. Well, who'll be number one? You, Sir? No! You, then? No! I'll favour number one by prompt attendance. Let any one who desires to die hold up a hand.
(Silence around him.)
Oh! I see. You are prudish and would not like to see a blade naked. Not a name? Not a hand?—Very well, then, I continue.
(Turning again to the stage, on which Montfleury is waiting in agony).
I desire to see the stage cured of a monstrous tumor. And, if necessary, I'll use ... (putting his hand to his sword) a lancet!
MONTFLEURY.
But I ....
CYRANO(gets off his chair and sits down on it, comfortably, with a wide circle around him).
Attention, full moon! I'll clap my hands thrice. The third time, there must be an eclipse.
THE PIT(amused).
Ah! Good!
CYRANO(striking his hands together).
One!
MONTFLEURY.
But I ....
A VOICE(from the boxes).
Stay, Montfleury!
THE PIT.
Will stay, will not! Will stay, will not!
MONTFLEURY.
I believe, gentlemen ....
CYRANO.
Two!
MONTFLEURY.
It would be far better ....
CYRANO.
Three!
(Montfleury disappears as if by magic. General laughter, whistling, etc.)
CYRANO(leaning back in his chair, and crossing his legs).
Let him return if he dares!
THE AUDIENCE.
The company's orator!
(Bellerose advances and bows.)
THE BOXES.
Ah! here is Bellerose!
BELLEROSE(with great elegance).
Noble lords ....
THE PIT.
No! No! Jodelet!
JODELET(with a nasal twang).
Disturbers of the peace! The heavy tragedian whose bulk suits your fancy, felt....
THE PIT.
He is a coward!
JODELET.
Suddenly unwell ... and was compelled to retire.
THE PIT.
Let him return!—No!—Yes!—
A YOUNG MAN(to Cyrano).
But, after all, Sir, what reason is there for your hating Montfleury?
CYRANO(very courteous, still seated).
Young gosling, there are two, either one of which is sufficient in itself. First: he is a bad actor; he rants, and seems to lift with a derrick lines that have wings of their own. Second: but that ismysecret.
TRADESMAN(behind Cyrano).
But, Sir, you deprive us of the pleasure of hearing "La Clorise." I insist....
CYRANO(turning in his chair toward the tradesman respectfully).
Venerable mule, Baro's verse is worthless. I interrupt without the slightest remorse.
THE "PRÉCIEUSES"(in the boxes).
Baro! Our Baro! Heavens! Is it possible?
CYRANO(turning his chair to the boxes, with great courtesy).
Fair beings ....Irradiate and bloom, be Hebes, all,Dispensing dream; with smile make death a feastTo us——inspire verse.... but judge it not!
BELLEROSE.
How about the money we'll have to return?
CYRANO(turning his chair toward the stage).
Bellerose, you have said the only intelligent thing yet heard to-day. I would not for the world make holes in the cloak of Thespis.
(He rises and throws a small bag upon the stage).
Catch this purse and hold your tongue!
THE AUDIENCE(bewildered).
Ah!.... Oh!....
JODELET(picking up the purse and weighing it).
For the same price, Sir, you may daily prevent the performance of "La Clorise"!....
THE AUDIENCE.
Hu!.... Hu!....
JODELET.
Even if we are to be hooted .... Clear the house!
(The audience begins to leave. Cyrano looks on with great satisfaction. The crowd, however, soon stops as the following discussion begins. The ladies in the boxes, who had already risen to go, and put on their wraps, resume their seats).
LE BRET(to Cyrano).
You are insane!
AN INTRUDER(who has come up to Cyrano).
A comedian like Montfleury! Scandalous! Why! He is a favourite of the Duke de Candale's! What powerful patron have you?
CYRANO.
None!
THE INTRUDER.
No patron?
CYRANO.
No!
THE INTRUDER.
What! no high-born gentleman whose name can shield you?
CYRANO(impatient).
I've said No twice already. A third time: No! I've no protector.... (his hand on his sword) but this!
THE INTRUDER.
You are going to leave town, then?
CYRANO.
Hardly probable.
THE INTRUDER.
But the Duke has a long reach!
CYRANO.
Not so long as mine .... (showing his sword) with this extension! Now, go about your business.
THE INTRUDER.
But allow me....
CYRANO.
Go! Or, rather, tell me why you look so sharply at my nose.
THE INTRUDER(abashed).
What! I....
CYRANO.
Is there anything extraordinary about it?
THE INTRUDER.
Your lordship mistakes....
CYRANO.
Is it soft and swinging like an elephant's trunk?
THE INTRUDER.
I did not say....
CYRANO.
Or crooked like the beak of an owl?
THE INTRUDER.
No; I....
CYRANO.
Is there a wart on the end of it? Or a fly? What's amiss with it? Or is it a phenomenon?
THE INTRUDER.
Why, I didn't even look at it!
CYRANO.
Why shouldn't you look at it? Is it repulsive?
THE INTRUDER.
My dear Sir....
CYRANO.
In colour unhealthy? In shape indecent?
THE INTRUDER.
Not at all!
CYRANO.
Why, then, seem to revile it? Perhaps the gentleman finds it rather large?
THE INTRUDER(stammering).
I find it small, very, very small.
CYRANO.
How small? Ridiculously then? My nose small! Why, my nose is enormous! Remember, vile flat-nose and flat-head, that I am proud of such an appendix! For a large nose properly indicates a man that is affable, kind, courteous, witty, liberal and brave, such as I am, and such as you, miserable knave! can never be; for the inglorious face that my hand is about to seek above your collar is as destitute ..... (he slaps intruder's face).
THE INTRUDER.
Oh!
CYRANO.
Of pride, of flight, of poesy, of picturesqueness, of fire, of magnificence, of Nose, in fact, as the one.... (Cyrano seizes the Intruder by the shoulders and kicks him in the seat) that my boot now reaches at the base of your back.
THE INTRUDER(escaping).
Help! Guards!
CYRANO.
Fair warning, then, to idle lookers onWho criticise the centre of my face!The critic, if a gentleman, will get,—Before he flies,—in front and higher too,My custom's such, some steel instead of leather!
GUICHE(who with the marquises, has come down from the stage).
The gentleman is getting very tiresome!
VICOMTE de VALVERT(shrugging his shoulders).
He is a braggart!
GUICHE.
And no one answers him?....
THE VICOMTE.
No one? Just wait. Such a retort as I'm going to send him!
(He advances toward Cyrano, who has been looking at him, and draws himself up with an air of foppish vanity.)
You.... you have a nose.... hum! a nose, Sir, that is.... very large.
CYRANO(very quietly and seriously).
Very large, indeed!
VICOMTE(laughing).
Ha! Ha!
CYRANO(with great self-possession).
Is that all?
VICOMTE.
Well, I....
CYRANO.
No, no, that's a little too short, young man! You might have said.... Well.... many things.... in different keys. For instance, listen:Aggressive: "I, Sir, had I such a nose, would at once have it amputated."—Friendly: "It must dip into your glass. To drink with comfort, you should have a hanap constructed!"—Descriptive: "It is a rock!... a peak!!.... a headland!!! More than a headland, a whole peninsula!"—Inquisitive: "What may this oblong thing be used for? A writing-desk or a tool-chest?"—Pleasant: "Do you love birds so much that you feel bound to offer them so comfortable a resting place?"—Fierce: "When you use tobacco, Sir, can you emit smoke from that nose without your neighbours' crying that there is a chimney on fire?"—Thoughtful: "Be careful; so much top-hamper might cause you to fall!"—Affectionate: "Have a parasol made for it; the sun might fade its colour!"—Pedantic: "For so much flesh on so much bone beneath the forehead, we must go back, Sir, to the animal Aristophanes calls Hippocampelephantocamelos!"—Flippant: "Why! man, is that the fashion for hooks? Certainly convenient for hanging up a hat!"—Emphatic: "Masterly nose, no wind can make you catch aught but a fractional cold! None but a northern hurricane!"—Dramatic: "When it bleeds, we have the Red Sea!"—Admiringly: "For a perfumer, what a sign!"—Lyric: "Is it a shell trumpet, and are you a triton?"—Innocent: "When is this monument open to visitors?"—Respectful: "This is really owning a mansion with a gable on it!"—Countrylike: "That be not a nose, but a big turnip, or a young melon!"—Military: "Point against cavalry!"—Practical: "Will you put it up in a lottery? It will surely be the largest prize!"—Finally, to parody the grief of Pyramus:
So here we have the nose that on its master cameTo ruin harmony! The traitor's red for shame!
That is about what you might have said, dear boy, if youhad a sprinkling of letters and a bit of humour. Of humour, though, lamentable being, you never had an atom; and, as to letters, you never had but the four that spell the word Fool!—Some invention is requisite for extravagant jests before such an audience, but, even if you had it, you could not have uttered a quarter of the half of the beginning of what I said; for I may be willing to serve such sport myself, but I allow nobody to serve it tome.
GUICHE(endeavouring to lead away the Vicomte).
Vicomte, pay no attention to him!
VICOMTE(overwhelmed).
Such arrogance! An insignificant little squire .... who .... who .... doesn't even wear gloves!....and who sallies forth without ribbons, bows or trimmings!
CYRANO.
'Tis morally I have my elegance,I do not dress as does a fop, but IAm better groomed than some more richly clad.I'd not set forth with traces of neglectAbout me, say: an insult left unwashed,A conscience still confused and half asleep,My honour soiled, or scruples out of shape.When I proceed, I do so clean and bright,With truthful independence for a plume.'Tis not my form I lace to hold it up,It is my soul I try to elevate!The ribbons that I wear are only deeds;I twist perhaps my wit like a mustache;But then I cause, as I go through your groups,Above the clash of spurs, the truth to ring!
VICOMTE.
But, Sir ....
CYRANO.
I have no gloves on?.... What matters it? I did haveone left from a very old pair! One day I found it somewhat in the way .... and I left it on somebody's face.
VICOMTE.
Knave, puppy, flat-footed ridiculous bully!
CYRANO(taking off his hat and bowing, as if the Vicomte had just presented himself).
Ah! delighted!.... and I: Cyrano, Savinian, Hercules de Bergerac.
(Laughter around.)
VICOMTE(exasperated).
Buffoon!
CYRANO(uttering a cry as if he had a cramp).
Ay!....
VICOMTE(who was leaving, returning).
What is it now?
CYRANO(grinning as if in pain).
I must move it, for it is asleep.... What a mistake to let it remain inactive.... Ay!....
VICOMTE.
What ails you?
CYRANO.
It's my sword that's tingling!
VICOMTE(drawing his sword).
Be it so!
CYRANO.
I'll show you a neat little thrust.
VICOMTE(disdainfully).
Poet!
CYRANO.
Yes, Sir, a poet! So much so that, while we play swords here, I mean—hop!—on the spur of the moment, to improvise for you a ballade.
VICOMTE.
A ballade?
CYRANO.
Yes. I'll wager you do not know what is a ballade.
VICOMTE.
But....
CYRANO(as if reciting a lesson).
Well, then, a ballade is composed of three stanzas of eight lines each....
VICOMTE(stamping impatiently).
Oh!
CYRANO(continuing).
Plus an Envoy of four lines. Twenty-eight lines in all, with only three rimes....
VICOMTE.
You....
CYRANO.
I am going to compose one while fighting, and when I come to the last line, Sir, I'll touch you!
VICOMTE.
You'll not!
CYRANO.
Be sure, I shall!
(Declaiming.)
Ballade of the Duel Between Monsieur de Bergerac and a Coxcomb.
VICOMTE.
What is that, if you please?
CYRANO.
That is the title.
THE AUDIENCE(greatly excited).
Make room there!.... Capital!.... Stand back!.... Be silent!....
(Tableau.—Circle of lookers-on in the pit,—marquises and officers, with the tradesmen and common people. Pages on each others' shoulders for a better view. All the women standing in the boxes. To the right, Guiche and his followers. To the left, Le Bret, Ragueneau, Cuigy, etc.).
CYRANO(closing his eyes for a moment).
Wait....I'm selecting my rimes....There now, I'm ready!
(He does as he says while speaking the verses.)
My hat with grace I cast aside;Next, watch me, please, I slowly freeThe cloak in which I'm wont to stride;And then I draw my sword, you see.A Celadon[9]you have in me,A Scaramuccia very much;But, pygmy, moderate your glee,For, when I close th' Envoy, I'll touch!'Twere better you had slept or died.O goose, where shall I puncture thee?Beneath the ribs? Above? Decide!Or through the breast, where ribbons be?The hilts are ringing. One, two, three!My sword, beware! is not a crutch.I'll strike according to decree,For, when I close th' Envoy, I'll touch!I seek in vain a rime inide.You back—and whiten—let's agreeUpon a word, say: trembling hide,So, tac! I parry, just a wee,Your vicious thrust. Now finish we!I open—quart—or something such——Hold well that spit, you dog, or flee,[10]For, when I close th' Envoy, I'll touch!
(He announces with solemnity).
ENVOY.[11]
Now, Prince, may heaven hear your plea!I follow, though you break and clutch.I cut—I feint—Be ready—Hee! (He lunges.)
(Vicomte staggers; Cyrano bows.)
For now I close th' Envoy.... (pointing to Vicomte)I touch!
(Applause in boxes. Flowers and handkerchiefs are thrown. Officers surround and congratulate Cyrano. Ragueneau dances for joy. Le Bret seems both overjoyed and dejected. The Vicomte's friends support him and bear him off.)
A MUSKETEER(most cordially shaking Cyrano's hand).
Allow an expert to congratulate you, Sir, most heartily.
(He leaves.)
CYRANO(to Cuigy).
Who is this gentleman?
CUIGY.
D'Artagnan!
LE BRET(passing his arm through Cyrano's).
Now let us talk!....
CYRANO.
Wait till the crowd has left.
(to Bellerose).
May we stay a while?
BELLEROSE(to Cyrano).
Certainly, Sir.
(giving orders to Janitor).
Close the house, but do not put out the lights. We'll return after dinner for a rehearsal.
(Jodelet and Bellerose bow to Cyrano, then exeunt.)
JANITOR(to Cyrano).
You are not going to dinner, Sir?
CYRANO.
I?.... No.
(Exit Janitor.)
LE BRET(to Cyrano).
Why not?
CYRANO(proudly).
Because....
(changing his tone, when he sees that the Janitor has gone).
Because I have no money!....
LE BRET(as if throwing a purse).
How about that bag of coin?
CYRANO.
Monthly allowance, thou wert short lived! One day!
LE BRET.
For a whole month, then....
CYRANO.
I have nothing left.
LE BRET.
To throw away thus your purse, what folly!
CYRANO.
Yes, but what a gesture!
THE WAITING-GIRL(behind the counter).
Hum!
(Cyrano and Le Bret turn around. She advances timidly.)
Sir .... I cannot bear.... to see you fast.... (Showing the buffet). I have here several things.... Take some!
CYRANO(taking off his hat).
My dear child, Gascon pride forbids my accepting from you the smallest of your delicacies. But, on the other hand, I would not for the whole world offend you, as my refusal might do. So I will with pleasure accept....
(Goes up to the buffet and chooses.)
Oh! the smallest thing!.... ah! one grape from this bunch.
(She tries to make him take the bunch, but he picks out a single grape.)
Only one.... a glass of water....
(She tries to pour some wine, but he prevents her.)
Pure water!.... and half a maccaroon.
(He breaks a maccaroon in two, and returns one of the pieces.)
LE BRET.
What nonsense!
WAITING-GIRL.
Do have something more!
CYRANO.
Yes, your hand to kiss.
(He kisses her hand as if she were a princess.)
WAITING-GIRL.
Thank you, Sir!
(Curtsies.)
A very good evening!
(Exit waiting-girl.)
CYRANO,LE BRET,laterJANITOR.
CYRANO(to Le Bret).
Now, I'll listen to you.
(He goes to the buffet, on which he places the half maccaroon.)
Dinner!
(Then the glass of water.)
Drink!
(And the one grape from the bunch.)
Dessert!
(Takes a seat by the buffet.)
Now for the feast! My dear friend, I feel very hungry.... (Eating) Well? You were saying?....
LE BRET.
That all these bellicose doings and the admiration they elicit will warp your judgment. Go ask people of sense what they think of this last prank of yours, of its effect.
CYRANO(finishing his half maccaroon).
Enormous!....
LE BRET.
The Cardinal!....
CYRANO(beaming with delight).
He was there? The Cardinal?
LE BRET.
Yes, and he must have found you....
CYRANO.
Anything but commonplace.
LE BRET.
Nevertheless....
CYRANO.
He's an author. And he must have enjoyed seeing another's play crushed.
LE BRET.
You are, really, making too many enemies!
CYRANO(munching his one grape).
How many do you estimate I have made to-day?
LE BRET.
Forty-eight, without counting the women.
CYRANO.
Enumerate them.
LE BRET.
Montfleury, the tradesman, Guiche, the Vicomte, Baro, the Academy....
CYRANO.
You give me infinite joy!
LE BRET.
What will all this lead you to? What system is yours?
CYRANO.
I was really meandering, and I found so many conclusions to adopt, through so many complications, that I came to this decision....
LE BRET.
Which is?....
CYRANO.
Oh! the simplest of all, by far. I decided to show myself admirable in all, and for all!
LE BRET(shrugging his shoulders).
So be it!.... But come now, tell me, tellme, the true reason of your hatred for Montfleury.
CYRANO(rising).
This Silenus, with a stomach like a hogshead, still believes himself a danger to womankind. See him, while he stammers on the stage, ogling like a carp, with his frog's eyes! I hate him since he dared, once, to set those eyes of his upon her.... Oh! I felt as if I saw a long slug crawling over a flower!
LE BRET(astounded).
What, is it possible?....
CYRANO(with a bitter laugh).
That I love?
(changing to a solemn tone).
I do love.
LE BRET.
Whom? May I enquire? You never told me.
CYRANO.
Whom I love? Come now, reflect. The dream of being loved, even by a homely girl, is one forbidden me. Forbidden by this nose of mine that precedes me everywhere by fifteen minutes. So, then, I love .... Whom? Why! it is most natural! I love .... it could not be otherwise, the loveliest of the lovely!
LE BRET.
The loveliest?....
CYRANO.
Exactly .... in the world! The most brilliant, the most exquisite, (crushed) the blondest!
LE BRET.
This woman is?....
CYRANO.
A deadly danger, thoughShe knows it not; a snare that Nature madeUnconscious, like a sweetly budding roseWhose leaves conceal,—in ambush lurking, love.Who sees her smile knows what perfection is:Her slightest touch engenders loveliness;She moves as if all heaven's grace were hers,And Venus ne'er embarked in any shell,Nor did Diana tread the sylvan pathsAs my adored can step into a chair!
LE BRET.
I understand! Quite clear.
CYRANO.
Transparent, say.
LE BRET.
It's Magdeleine, your cousin?
CYRANO.
Yes, Roxane.
LE BRET.
Well, where's the harm? You love her? Tell her so!She witnessed here just now your valiant deed!
CYRANO.
Why! Look at me, good friend, and say what hopeThere can be with .... such a protuberance!I clearly see the truth. But, then, of course,My heart will beat, perchance, at eventide,If, with this nose, I scent the breath of spring.Or else, I see, along some moonlit path,A whisp'ring pair of lovers slowly move;And then I think what rapture would be mineIf on my arm a gentle creature leaned.I dream: but suddenly, I'm brought to sense.By what? Alas! My profile on the wall!
LE BRET.
Dear friend!....
CYRANO.
Yes, friend, it's hard indeed to feelSo homely and forlorn at times....
LE BRET(taking his hand).
You weep!
CYRANO.
Weep? Never! Oh! a sorry sight, indeed,If down this nose a tear should take its course!I will not have, so long as I command,The saintliness of tears polluted byThis homeliness of mine. Remember, friend,That nothing's more sublime than flowing tears.So would I not allow a single oneTo cause a laugh, or seem ridiculous!
LE BRET.
Come, come, do not be sad. In love there is hazard, remember.
CYRANO(shaking his hand).
No! I love Cleopatra: do I resemble a Cæsar? I adore Berenice: do I look like a Titus?
LE BRET.
But, friend, your bravery, intelligence and wit!.... Take that girl there who just now offered you your dinner. Did her eyes seem to detest you?
CYRANO(struck).
It's a fact.
LE BRET.
Well, then, hope!.... Why! Roxane was pale and trembling, ghastly pale, while she followed your duel here!....
CYRANO.
Ghastly pale?
LE BRET.
Her heart and mind were certainly struck. Pick up courage and speak to her, so that....
CYRANO.
So that she bursts out laughing into my face .... under my very nose? No, no!.... That is the only thing in the world that I fear!
THE JANITOR(bringing in the duenna, to Cyrano).
Somebody for you, Sir.
CYRANO(seeing the duenna).
Great heavens! Her duenna!