Part 4
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.)
## Scene 2.VII.
Cyrano, Ragueneau, poets, Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, the cadets, a crowd, then De Guiche.
RAGUENEAU: Can we come in?
CYRANO (without stirring): Yes. . .
(Ragueneau signs to his friends, and they come in. At the same time, by door at back, enters Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, in Captain's uniform. He makes gestures of surprise on seeing Cyrano.)
CARBON: Here he is!
CYRANO (raising his head): Captain!. . .
CARBON (delightedly): Our hero! We heard all! Thirty or more Of my cadets are there!. . .
CYRANO (shrinking back): But. . .
CARBON (trying to draw him away): Come with me! They will not rest until they see you!
CYRANO: No!
CARBON: They're drinking opposite, at The Bear's Head.
CYRANO: I. . .
CARBON (going to the door and calling across the street in a voice of thunder): He won't come! The hero's in the sulks!
A VOICE (outside): Ah! Sandious!
(Tumult outside. Noise of boots and swords is heard approaching.)
CARBON (rubbing his hands): They are running 'cross the street!
CADETS (entering): Mille dious! Capdedious! Pocapdedious!
RAGUENEAU (drawing back startled): Gentlemen, are you all from Gascony?
THE CADETS: All!
A CADET (to Cyrano): Bravo!
CYRANO: Baron!
ANOTHER (shaking his hands): Vivat!
CYRANO: Baron!
THIRD CADET: Come! I must embrace you!
CYRANO: Baron!
SEVERAL GASCONS: We'll embrace Him, all in turn!
CYRANO (not knowing whom to reply to): Baron!. . .Baron!. . .I beg. . .
RAGUENEAU: Are you all Barons, Sirs?
THE CADETS: Ay, every one!
RAGUENEAU: Is it true?. . .
FIRST CADET: Ay--why, you could build a tower With nothing but our coronets, my friend!
LE BRET (entering, and running up to Cyrano): They're looking for you! Here's a crazy mob Led by the men who followed you last night. . .
CYRANO (alarmed): What! Have you told them where to find me?
LE BRET (rubbing his hands): Yes!
A BURGHER (entering, followed by a group of men): Sir, all the Marais is a-coming here!
(Outside the street has filled with people. Chaises a porteurs and carriages have drawn up.)
LE BRET (in a low voice, smiling, to Cyrano): And Roxane?
CYRANO (quickly): Hush!
THE CROWD (calling outside): Cyrano!. . .
(A crowd rush into the shop, pushing one another. Acclamations.)
RAGUENEAU (standing on a table): Lo! my shop Invaded! They break all! Magnificent!
PEOPLE (crowding round Cyrano): My friend!. . .my friend. . .
Cyrano: Meseems that yesterday I had not all these friends!
LE BRET (delighted): Success!
A YOUNG MARQUIS (hurrying up with his hands held out): My friend, Didst thou but know. . .
CYRANO: Thou!. . .Marry!. . .thou!. . .Pray when Did we herd swine together, you and I!
ANOTHER: I would present you, Sir, to some fair dames Who in my carriage yonder. . .
CYRANO (coldly): Ah! and who Will first present you, Sir, to me?
LE BRET (astonished): What's wrong?
CYRANO: Hush!
A MAN OF LETTERS (with writing-board): A few details?. . .
CYRANO: No.
LE BRET (nudging his elbow): 'Tis Theophrast, Renaudet,. . .of the 'Court Gazette'!
CYRANO: Who cares?
LE BRET: This paper--but it is of great importance!. . . They say it will be an immense success!
A POET (advancing): Sir. . .
CYRANO: What, another!
THE POET: . . .Pray permit I make A pentacrostic on your name. . .
SOME ONE (also advancing): Pray, Sir. . .
CYRANO: Enough! Enough!
(A movement in the crowd. De Guiche appears, escorted by officers. Cuigy, Brissaille, the officers who went with Cyrano the night before. Cuigy comes rapidly up to Cyrano.)
CUIGY (to Cyrano): Here is Monsieur de Guiche? (A murmur--every one makes way): He comes from the Marshal of Gassion!
DE GUICHE (bowing to Cyrano): . . .Who would express his admiration, Sir, For your new exploit noised so loud abroad.
THE CROWD: Bravo!
CYRANO (bowing): The Marshal is a judge of valor.
DE GUICHE: He could not have believed the thing, unless These gentlemen had sworn they witnessed it.
CUIGY: With our own eyes!
LE BRET (aside to Cyrano, who has an absent air): But. . .you. . .
CYRANO: Hush!
LE BRET: But. . .You suffer?
CYRANO (starting): Before this rabble?--I?. . . (He draws himself up, twirls his mustache, and throws back his shoulders): Wait!. . .You shall see!
DE GUICHE (to whom Cuigy has spoken in a low voice): In feats of arms, already your career Abounded.--You serve with those crazy pates Of Gascons?
CYRANO: Ay, with the Cadets.
A CADET (in a terrible voice): With us!
DE GUICHE (looking at the cadets, ranged behind Cyrano): Ah!. . .All these gentlemen of haughty mien, Are they the famous?. . .
CARBON: Cyrano!
CYRANO: Ay, Captain!
CARBON: Since all my company's assembled here, Pray favor me,--present them to my lord!
CYRANO (making two steps toward De Guiche): My Lord de Guiche, permit that I present-- (pointing to the cadets): The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux! Brawling and swaggering boastfully, The bold Cadets of Gascony! Spouting of Armory, Heraldry, Their veins a-brimming with blood so blue, The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux:
Eagle-eye, and spindle-shanks, Fierce mustache, and wolfish tooth! Slash-the-rabble and scatter-their-ranks; Eagle-eye and spindle-shanks, With a flaming feather that gayly pranks, Hiding the holes in their hats, forsooth! Eagle-eye and spindle-shanks, Fierce mustache, and wolfish tooth!
'Pink-your-Doublet' and 'Slit-your-Trunk' Are their gentlest sobriquets; With Fame and Glory their soul is drunk! 'Pink-your-Doublet' and 'Slit-your-Trunk,' In brawl and skirmish they show their spunk, Give rendezvous in broil and fray; 'Pink-your-Doublet' and 'Slit-your-Trunk' Are their gentlest sobriquets!
What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! All jealous lovers are sport for you! O Woman! dear divinity! What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! Whom scowling husbands quake to see. Blow, 'taratara,' and cry 'Cuckoo.' What, ho! Cadets of Gascony! Husbands and lovers are game for you!
DE GUICHE (seated with haughty carelessness in an armchair brought quickly by Ragueneau): A poet! 'Tis the fashion of the hour! --Will you be mine?
CYRANO: No, Sir,--no man's!
DE GUICHE: Last night Your fancy pleased my uncle Richelieu. I'll gladly say a word to him for you.
LE BRET (overjoyed): Great Heavens!
DE GUICHE: I imagine you have rhymed Five acts, or so?
LE BRET (in Cyrano's ear): Your play!--your 'Agrippine!' You'll see it staged at last!
DE GUICHE: Take them to him.
CYRANO (beginning to be tempted and attracted): In sooth,--I would. . .
DE GUICHE: He is a critic skilled: He may correct a line or two, at most.
CYRANO (whose face stiffens at once): Impossible! My blood congeals to think That other hand should change a comma's dot.
DE GUICHE: But when a verse approves itself to him He pays it dear, good friend.
CYRANO: He pays less dear Than I myself; when a verse pleases me I pay myself, and sing it to myself!
DE GUICHE: You are proud.
CYRANO: Really? You have noticed that?
A CADET (entering, with a string of old battered plumed beaver hats, full of holes, slung on his sword): See, Cyrano,--this morning, on the quay What strange bright-feathered game we caught! The hats O' the fugitives. . .
CARBON: 'Spolia opima!'
ALL (laughing): Ah! ah! ah!
CUIGY: He who laid that ambush, 'faith! Must curse and swear!
BRISSAILLE: Who was it?
DE GUICHE: I myself. (The laughter stops): I charged them--work too dirty for my sword, To punish and chastise a rhymster sot.
(Constrained silence.)
THE CADET (in a low voice, to Cyrano, showing him the beavers): What do with them? They're full of grease!--a stew?
CYRANO (taking the sword and, with a salute, dropping the hats at De Guiche's feet): Sir, pray be good enough to render them Back to your friends.
DE GUICHE (rising, sharply): My chair there--quick!--I go! (To Cyrano passionately): As to you, sirrah!. . .
VOICE (in the street): Porters for my lord De Guiche!
DE GUICHE (who has controlled himself--smiling): Have you read 'Don Quixote'?
CYRANO: I have! And doff my hat at th' mad knight-errant's name.
DE GUICHE: I counsel you to study. . .
A PORTER (appearing at back): My lord's chair!
DE GUICHE: . . .The windmill chapter!
CYRANO (bowing): Chapter the Thirteenth.
DE GUICHE: For when one tilts 'gainst windmills--it may chance. . .
CYRANO: Tilt I 'gainst those who change with every breeze?
DE GUICHE: . . .That windmill sails may sweep you with their arm Down--in the mire!. . .
CYRANO: Or upward--to the stars!
(De Guiche goes out, and mounts into his chair. The other lords go away whispering together. Le Bret goes to the door with them. The crowd disperses.)
## Scene 2.VIII.
Cyrano, Le Bret, the cadets, who are eating and drinking at the tables right and left.
CYRANO (bowing mockingly to those who go out without daring to salute him): Gentlemen. . .Gentlemen. . .
LE BRET (coming back, despairingly): Here's a fine coil!
CYRANO: Oh! scold away!
LE BRET: At least, you will agree That to annihilate each chance of Fate Exaggerates. . .
CYRANO: Yes!--I exaggerate!
LE BRET (triumphantly): Ah!
CYRANO: But for principle--example too,-- I think 'tis well thus to exaggerate.
LE BRET: Oh! lay aside that pride of musketeer, Fortune and glory wait you!. . .
CYRANO: Ay, and then?. . . Seek a protector, choose a patron out, And like the crawling ivy round a tree That licks the bark to gain the trunk's support, Climb high by creeping ruse instead of force? No, grammercy! What! I, like all the rest Dedicate verse to bankers?--play buffoon In cringing hope to see, at last, a smile Not disapproving, on a patron's lips? Grammercy, no! What! learn to swallow toads? --With frame aweary climbing stairs?--a skin Grown grimed and horny,--here, about the knees? And, acrobat-like, teach my back to bend?-- No, grammercy! Or,--double-faced and sly-- Run with the hare, while hunting with the hounds; And, oily-tongued, to win the oil of praise, Flatter the great man to his very nose? No, grammercy! Steal soft from lap to lap, --A little great man in a circle small, Or navigate, with madrigals for sails, Blown gently windward by old ladies' sighs? No, grammercy! Bribe kindly editors To spread abroad my verses? Grammercy! Or try to be elected as the pope Of tavern-councils held by imbeciles? No, grammercy! Toil to gain reputation By one small sonnet, 'stead of making many? No, grammercy! Or flatter sorry bunglers? Be terrorized by every prating paper? Say ceaselessly, 'Oh, had I but the chance Of a fair notice in the "Mercury"!' Grammercy, no! Grow pale, fear, calculate? Prefer to make a visit to a rhyme? Seek introductions, draw petitions up? No, grammercy! and no! and no again! But--sing? Dream, laugh, go lightly, solitary, free, With eyes that look straight forward--fearless voice! To cock your beaver just the way you choose,-- For 'yes' or 'no' show fight, or turn a rhyme! --To work without one thought of gain or fame, To realize that journey to the moon! Never to pen a line that has not sprung Straight from the heart within. Embracing then Modesty, say to oneself, 'Good my friend, Be thou content with flowers,--fruit,--nay, leaves, But pluck them from no garden but thine own!' And then, if glory come by chance your way, To pay no tribute unto Caesar, none, But keep the merit all your own! In short, Disdaining tendrils of the parasite, To be content, if neither oak nor elm-- Not to mount high, perchance, but mount alone!
LE BRET: Alone, an if you will! But not with hand 'Gainst every man! How in the devil's name Have you conceived this lunatic idea, To make foes for yourself at every turn?
CYRANO: By dint of seeing you at every turn Make friends,--and fawn upon your frequent friends With mouth wide smiling, slit from ear to ear! I pass, still unsaluted, joyfully, And cry,--What, ho! another enemy?
LE BRET: Lunacy!
CYRANO: Well, what if it be my vice, My pleasure to displease--to love men hate me! Ah, friend of mine, believe me, I march better 'Neath the cross-fire of glances inimical! How droll the stains one sees on fine-laced doublets, From gall of envy, or the poltroon's drivel! --The enervating friendship which enfolds you Is like an open-laced Italian collar, Floating around your neck in woman's fashion; One is at ease thus,--but less proud the carriage! The forehead, free from mainstay or coercion, Bends here, there, everywhere. But I, embracing Hatred, she lends,--forbidding, stiffly fluted, The ruff's starched folds that hold the head so rigid; Each enemy--another fold--a gopher, Who adds constraint, and adds a ray of glory; For Hatred, like the ruff worn by the Spanish, Grips like a vice, but frames you like a halo!
LE BRET (after a silence, taking his arm): Speak proud aloud, and bitter!--In my ear Whisper me simply this,--She loves thee not!
CYRANO (vehemently): Hush!
(Christian has just entered, and mingled with the cadets, who do not speak to him; he has seated himself at a table, where Lise serves him.)
## Scene 2.IX.
Cyrano, Le Bret, the cadets, Christian de Neuvillette.
A CADET (seated at a table, glass in hand): Cyrano! (Cyrano turns round): The story!
CYRANO: In its time!
(He goes up on Le Bret's arm. They talk in low voices.)
THE CADET (rising and coming down): The story of the fray! 'Twill lesson well (He stops before the table where Christian is seated): This timid young apprentice!
CHRISTIAN (raising his head): 'Prentice! Who?
ANOTHER CADET: This sickly Northern greenhorn!
CHRISTIAN: Sickly!
FIRST CADET (mockingly): Hark! Monsieur de Neuvillette, this in your ear: There's somewhat here, one no more dares to name, Than to say 'rope' to one whose sire was hanged!
CHRISTIAN: What may that be?
ANOTHER CADET (in a terrible voice): See here! (He puts his finger three times, mysteriously, on his nose): Do you understand?
CHRISTIAN: Oh! 'tis the. . .
ANOTHER: Hush! oh, never breathe that word, Unless you'd reckon with him yonder!
(He points to Cyrano, who is talking with Le Bret.)
ANOTHER (who has meanwhile come up noiselessly to sit on the table--whispering behind him): Hark! He put two snuffling men to death, in rage, For the sole reason they spoke through their nose!
ANOTHER (in a hollow voice, darting on all-fours from under the table, where he had crept): And if you would not perish in flower o' youth, --Oh, mention not the fatal cartilage!
ANOTHER (clapping him on the shoulder): A word? A gesture! For the indiscreet His handkerchief may prove his winding-sheet!
(Silence. All, with crossed arms, look at Christian. He rises and goes over to Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, who is talking to an officer, and feigns to see nothing.)
CHRISTIAN: Captain!
CARBON (turning and looking at him from head to foot): Sir!
CHRISTIAN: Pray, what skills it best to do To Southerners who swagger?. . .
CARBON: Give them proof That one may be a Northerner, yet brave!
(He turns his back on him.)
CHRISTIAN: I thank you.
FIRST CADET (to Cyrano): Now the tale!
ALL: The tale!
CYRANO (coming toward them): The tale?. . . (All bring their stools up, and group round him, listening eagerly. Christian is astride a chair): Well! I went all alone to meet the band. The moon was shining, clock-like, full i' th' sky, When, suddenly, some careful clockwright passed A cloud of cotton-wool across the case That held this silver watch. And, presto! heigh! The night was inky black, and all the quays Were hidden in the murky dark. Gadsooks! One could see nothing further. . .
CHRISTIAN: Than one's nose!
(Silence. All slowly rise, looking in terror at Cyrano, who has stopped-- dumfounded. Pause.)
CYRANO: Who on God's earth is that?
A CADET (whispering): It is a man Who joined to-day.
CYRANO (making a step toward Christian): To-day?
CARBON (in a low voice): Yes. . .his name is The Baron de Neuvil. . .
CYRANO (checking himself): Good! It is well. . . (He turns pale, flushes, makes as if to fall on Christian): I. . . (He controls himself): What said I?. . . (With a burst of rage): MORDIOUS!. . . (Then continues calmly): That it was dark. (Astonishment. The cadets reseat themselves, staring at him): On I went, thinking, 'For a knavish cause I may provoke some great man, some great prince, Who certainly could break'. . .
CHRISTIAN: My nose!. . .
(Every one starts up. Christian balances on his chair.)
CYRANO (in a choked voice): . . .'My teeth! Who would break my teeth, and I, imprudent-like, Was poking. . .'
CHRISTIAN: My nose!. . .
CYRANO: 'My finger,. . .in the crack Between the tree and bark! He may prove strong And rap me. . .'
CHRISTIAN: Over the nose. . .
CYRANO (wiping his forehead): . . .'O' th' knuckles! Ay,' But I cried, 'Forward, Gascon! Duty calls! On, Cyrano!' And thus I ventured on. . . When, from the shadow, came. . .
CHRISTIAN: A crack o' th' nose.
CYRANO: I parry it--find myself. . .
CHRISTIAN: Nose to nose. . .
CYRANO (bounding on to him): Heaven and earth! (All the Gascons leap up to see, but when he is close to Christian he controls himself and continues): . . .With a hundred brawling sots, Who stank. . .
CHRISTIAN: A noseful. . .
CYRANO (white, but smiling): Onions, brandy-cups! I leapt out, head well down. . .
CHRISTIAN: Nosing the wind!
CYRANO: I charge!--gore two, impale one--run him through, One aims at me--Paf! and I parry. . .
CHRISTIAN: Pif!
CYRANO (bursting out): Great God! Out! all of you!
(The cadets rush to the doors.)
FIRST CADET: The tiger wakes!
CYRANO: Every man, out! Leave me alone with him!
SECOND CADET: We shall find him minced fine, minced into hash In a big pasty!
RAGUENEAU: I am turning pale, And curl up, like a napkin, limp and white!
CARBON: Let us be gone.
ANOTHER: He will not leave a crumb!
ANOTHER: I die of fright to think what will pass here!
ANOTHER (shutting door right): Something too horrible!
(All have gone out by different doors, some by the staircase. Cyrano and Christian are face to face, looking at each other for a moment.)
## Scene 2.X.
Cyrano, Christian.
CYRANO: Embrace me now!
CHRISTIAN: Sir. . .
CYRANO: You are brave.
CHRISTIAN: Oh! but. . .
CYRANO: Nay, I insist.
CHRISTIAN: Pray tell me. . .
CYRANO: Come, embrace! I am her brother.
CHRISTIAN: Whose brother?
CYRANO: Hers i' faith! Roxane's!
CHRISTIAN (rushing up to him): O heavens! Her brother. . .?
CYRANO: Cousin--brother!. . .the same thing!
CHRISTIAN: And she has told you. . .?
CYRANO: All!
CHRISTIAN: She loves me? say!
CYRANO: Maybe!
CHRISTIAN (taking his hands): How glad I am to meet you, Sir!
CYRANO: That may be called a sudden sentiment!
CHRISTIAN: I ask your pardon. . .
CYRANO (looking at him, with his hand on his shoulder): True, he's fair, the villain!
CHRISTIAN: Ah, Sir! If you but knew my admiration!. . .
CYRANO: But all those noses?. . .
CHRISTIAN: Oh! I take them back!
CYRANO: Roxane expects a letter.
CHRISTIAN: Woe the day!
CYRANO: How?
CHRISTIAN: I am lost if I but ope my lips!
CYRANO: Why so?
CHRISTIAN: I am a fool--could die for shame!
CYRANO: None is a fool who knows himself a fool. And you did not attack me like a fool.