Part 8
CARBON (who, like the others, has been buckling, dusting, brushing his hat, settling his plume, and drawing on his cuffs, advances to Roxane, and ceremoniously): It is perchance more seemly, since things are thus, that I present to you some of these gentlemen who are about to have the honor of dying before your eyes. (Roxane bows, and stands leaning on Christian's arm, while Carbon introduces the cadets to her): Baron de Peyrescous de Colignac!
THE CADET (with a low reverence): Madame. . .
CARBON (continuing): Baron de Casterac de Cahuzac,--Vidame de Malgouyre Estressac Lésbas d'Escarabiot, Chevalier d'Antignac-Juzet, Baron Hillot de Blagnac-Salechan de Castel Crabioules. . .
ROXANE: But how many names have you each?
BARON HILLOT: Scores!
CARBON (to Roxane): Pray, open the hand that holds your kerchief.
ROXANE (opens her hand, and the handkerchief falls): Why?
(The whole company start forward to pick it up.)
CARBON (quickly raising it): My company had no flag. But now, by my faith, they will have the fairest in all the camp!
ROXANE (smiling): 'Tis somewhat small.
CARBON (tying the handkerchief on the staff of his lance): But--'tis of lace!
A CADET (to the rest): I could die happy, having seen so sweet a face, if I had something in my stomach--were it but a nut!
CARBON (who has overheard, indignantly): Shame on you! What, talk of eating when a lovely woman!. . .
ROXANE: But your camp air is keen; I myself am famished. Pasties, cold _fricassée_, old wines--there is my bill of fare? Pray bring it all here.
(Consternation.)
A CADET: All that?
ANOTHER: But where on earth find it?
ROXANE (quietly): In my carriage.
ALL: How?
ROXANE: Now serve up--carve! Look a little closer at my coachman, gentlemen, and you will recognize a man most welcome. All the sauces can be sent to table hot, if we will!
THE CADETS (rushing pellmell to the carriage): 'Tis Ragueneau! (Acclamations): Oh, oh!
ROXANE (looking after them): Poor fellows!
CYRANO (kissing her hand): Kind fairy!
RAGUENEAU (standing on the box like a quack doctor at a fair): Gentlemen!. . .
(General delight.)
THE CADETS: Bravo! bravo!
RAGUENEAU: . . .The Spaniards, gazing on a lady so dainty fair, overlooked the fare so dainty!. . .
(Applause.)
CYRANO (in a whisper to Christian): Hark, Christian!
RAGUENEAU: . . .And, occupied with gallantry, perceived not-- (He draws a plate from under the seat, and holds it up): --The galantine!. . .
(Applause. The galantine passes from hand to hand.)
CYRANO (still whispering to Christian): Prythee, one word!
RAGUENEAU: And Venus so attracted their eyes that Diana could secretly pass by with-- (He holds up a shoulder of mutton): --her fawn!
(Enthusiasm. Twenty hands are held out to seize the shoulder of mutton.)
CYRANO (in a low whisper to Christian): I must speak to you!
ROXANE (to the cadets, who come down, their arms laden with food): Put it all on the ground!
(She lays all out on the grass, aided by the two imperturbable lackeys who were behind the carriage.)
ROXANE (to Christian, just as Cyrano is drawing him apart): Come, make yourself of use!
(Christian comes to help her. Cyrano's uneasiness increases.)
RAGUENEAU: Truffled peacock!
FIRST CADET (radiant, coming down, cutting a big slice of ham): By the mass! We shall not brave the last hazard without having had a gullet-full!-- (quickly correcting himself on seeing Roxane): --Pardon! A Balthazar feast!
RAGUENEAU (throwing down the carriage cushions): The cushions are stuffed with ortolans!
(Hubbub. They tear open and turn out the contents of the cushions. Bursts of laughter--merriment.)
THIRD CADET: Ah! Viedaze!
RAGUENEAU (throwing down to the cadets bottles of red wine): Flasks of rubies!-- (and white wine): --Flasks of topaz!
ROXANE (throwing a folded tablecloth at Cyrano's head): Unfold me that napkin!--Come, come! be nimble!
RAGUENEAU (waving a lantern): Each of the carriage-lamps is a little larder!
CYRANO (in a low voice to Christian, as they arrange the cloth together): I must speak with you ere you speak to her.
RAGUENEAU: My whip-handle is an Arles sausage!
ROXANE (pouring out wine, helping): Since we are to die, let the rest of the army shift for itself. All for the Gascons! And mark! if De Guiche comes, let no one invite him! (Going from one to the other): There! there! You have time enough! Do not eat too fast!--Drink a little.—Why are you crying?
FIRST CADET: It is all so good!. . .
ROXANE: Tut!--Red or white?--Some bread for Monsieur de Carbon!--a knife! Pass your plate!--a little of the crust? Some more? Let me help you!--Some champagne?—A wing?
CYRANO (who follows her, his arms laden with dishes, helping her to wait on everybody): How I worship her!
ROXANE (going up to Christian): What will you?
CHRISTIAN: Nothing.
ROXANE: Nay, nay, take this biscuit, steeped in muscat; come!. . . but two drops!
CHRISTIAN (trying to detain her): Oh! tell me why you came?
ROXANE: Wait; my first duty is to these poor fellows.--Hush! In a few minutes. . .
LE BRET (who had gone up to pass a loaf on the end of a lance to the sentry on the rampart): De Guiche!
CYRANO: Quick! hide flasks, plates, pie-dishes, game-baskets! Hurry!--Let us all look unconscious! (To Ragueneau): Up on your seat!--Is everything covered up?
(In an instant all has been pushed into the tents, or hidden under doublets, cloaks, and beavers. De Guiche enters hurriedly--stops suddenly, sniffing the air. Silence.)
## Scene 4.VII.
The same. De Guiche.
DE GUICHE: It smells good here.
A CADET (humming): Lo! Lo-lo!
DE GUICHE (looking at him): What is the matter?--You are very red.
THE CADET: The matter?--Nothing!--'Tis my blood--boiling at the thought of the coming battle!
ANOTHER: Poum, poum--poum. . .
DE GUICHE (turning round): What's that?
THE CADET (slightly drunk): Nothing!. . .'Tis a song!--a little. . .
DE GUICHE: You are merry, my friend!
THE CADET: The approach of danger is intoxicating!
DE GUICHE (calling Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, to give him an order): Captain! I. . . (He stops short on seeing him): Plague take me! but you look bravely, too!
CARBON (crimson in the face, hiding a bottle behind his back, with an evasive movement): Oh!. . .
DE GUICHE: I have one cannon left, and have had it carried there-- (he points behind the scenes): --in that corner. . .Your men can use it in case of need.
A CADET (reeling slightly): Charming attention!
ANOTHER (with a gracious smile): Kind solicitude!
DE GUICHE: How? they are all gone crazy? (Drily): As you are not used to cannon, beware of the recoil.
FIRST CADET: Pooh!
DE GUICHE (furious, going up to him): But. . .
THE CADET: Gascon cannons never recoil!
DE GUICHE (taking him by the arm and shaking him): You are tipsy!--but what with?
THE CADET (grandiloquently): --With the smell of powder!
DE GUICHE (shrugging his shoulders and pushing him away, then going quickly to Roxane): Briefly, Madame, what decision do you deign to take?
ROXANE: I stay here.
DE GUICHE: You must fly!
ROXANE: No! I will stay.
DE GUICHE: Since things are thus, give me a musket, one of you!
CARBON: Wherefore?
DE GUICHE: Because I too--mean to remain.
CYRANO: At last! This is true valor, Sir!
FIRST CADET: Then you are Gascon after all, spite of your lace collar?
ROXANE: What is all this?
DE GUICHE: I leave no woman in peril.
SECOND CADET (to the first): Hark you! Think you not we might give him something to eat?
(All the viands reappear as if by magic.)
DE GUICHE (whose eyes sparkle): Victuals!
THE THIRD CADET: Yes, you'll see them coming from under every coat!
DE GUICHE (controlling himself, haughtily): Do you think I will eat your leavings?
CYRANO (saluting him): You make progress.
DE GUICHE (proudly, with a light touch of accent on the word 'breaking'): I will fight without br-r-eaking my fast!
FIRST CADET (with wild delight): Br-r-r-eaking! He has got the accent!
DE GUICHE (laughing): I?
THE CADET: 'Tis a Gascon!
(All begin to dance.)
CARBON DE CASTEL-JALOUX (who had disappeared behind the rampart, reappearing on the ridge): I have drawn my pikemen up in line. They are a resolute troop.
(He points to a row of pikes, the tops of which are seen over the ridge.)
DE GUICHE (bowing to Roxane): Will you accept my hand, and accompany me while I review them?
(She takes it, and they go up toward the rampart. All uncover and follow them.)
CHRISTIAN (going to Cyrano, eagerly): Tell me quickly!
(As Roxane appears on the ridge, the tops of the lances disappear, lowered for the salute, and a shout is raised. She bows.)
THE PIKEMEN (outside): Vivat!
CHRISTIAN: What is this secret?
CYRANO: If Roxane should. . .
CHRISTIAN: Should?. . .
CYRANO: Speak of the letters?. . .
CHRISTIAN: Yes, I know!. . .
CYRANO: Do not spoil all by seeming surprised. . .
CHRISTIAN: At what?
CYRANO: I must explain to you!. . .Oh! 'tis no great matter--I but thought of it to- day on seeing her. You have. . .
CHRISTIAN: Tell quickly!
CYRANO: You have. . .written to her oftener than you think. . .
CHRISTIAN: How so?
CYRANO: Thus, 'faith! I had taken it in hand to express your flame for you!. . .At times I wrote without saying, 'I am writing!'
CHRISTIAN: Ah!. . .
CYRANO: 'Tis simple enough!
CHRISTIAN: But how did you contrive, since we have been cut off, thus. . .to?. . .
CYRANO: . . .Oh! before dawn. . .I was able to get through. . .
CHRISTIAN (folding his arms): That was simple, too? And how oft, pray you, have I written?. . .Twice in the week?. . .Three times?. . .Four?. . .
CYRANO: More often still.
CHRISTIAN: What! Every day?
CYRANO: Yes, every day,--twice.
CHRISTIAN (violently): And that became so mad a joy for you, that you braved death. . .
CYRANO (seeing Roxane returning): Hush! Not before her!
(He goes hurriedly into his tent.)
## Scene 4.VIII.
Roxane, Christian. In the distance cadets coming and going. Carbon and De Guiche give orders.
ROXANE (running up to Christian): Ah, Christian, at last!. . .
CHRISTIAN (taking her hands): Now tell me why-- Why, by these fearful paths so perilous-- Across these ranks of ribald soldiery, You have come?
ROXANE: Love, your letters brought me here!
CHRISTIAN: What say you?
ROXANE: 'Tis your fault if I ran risks! Your letters turned my head! Ah! all this month, How many!--and the last one ever bettered The one that went before!
CHRISTIAN: What!--for a few Inconsequent love-letters!
ROXANE: Hold your peace! Ah! you cannot conceive it! Ever since That night, when, in a voice all new to me, Under my window you revealed your soul-- Ah! ever since I have adored you! Now Your letters all this whole month long!--meseemed As if I heard that voice so tender, true, Sheltering, close! Thy fault, I say! It drew me, The voice o' th' night! Oh! wise Penelope Would ne'er have stayed to broider on her hearthstone, If her Ulysses could have writ such letters! But would have cast away her silken bobbins, And fled to join him, mad for love as Helen!
CHRISTIAN: But. . .
ROXANE: I read, read again--grew faint for love; I was thine utterly. Each separate page Was like a fluttering flower-petal, loosed From your own soul, and wafted thus to mine. Imprinted in each burning word was love Sincere, all-powerful. . .
CHRISTIAN: A love sincere! Can that be felt, Roxane!
ROXANE: Ay, that it can!
CHRISTIAN: You come. . .?
ROXANE: O, Christian, my true lord, I come-- (Were I to throw myself, here, at your knees, You would raise me--but 'tis my soul I lay At your feet--you can raise it nevermore!) --I come to crave your pardon. (Ay, 'tis time To sue for pardon, now that death may come!) For the insult done to you when, frivolous, At first I loved you only for your face!
CHRISTIAN (horror-stricken): Roxane!
ROXANE: And later, love--less frivolous-- Like a bird that spreads its wings, but can not fly-- Arrested by your beauty, by your soul Drawn close--I loved for both at once!
CHRISTIAN: And now?
ROXANE: Ah! you yourself have triumphed o'er yourself, And now, I love you only for your soul!
CHRISTIAN (stepping backward): Roxane!
ROXANE: Be happy. To be loved for beauty-- A poor disguise that time so soon wears threadbare-- Must be to noble souls--to souls aspiring-- A torture. Your dear thoughts have now effaced That beauty that so won me at the outset. Now I see clearer--and I no more see it!
CHRISTIAN: Oh!. . .
ROXANE: You are doubtful of such victory?
CHRISTIAN (pained): Roxane!
ROXANE: I see you cannot yet believe it. Such love. . .?
CHRISTIAN: I do not ask such love as that! I would be loved more simply; for. . .
ROXANE: For that Which they have all in turns loved in thee?-- Shame! Oh! be loved henceforth in a better way!
CHRISTIAN: No! the first love was best!
ROXANE: Ah! how you err! 'Tis now that I love best--love well! 'Tis that Which is thy true self, see!--that I adore! Were your brilliance dimmed. . .
CHRISTIAN: Hush!
ROXANE: I should love still! Ay, if your beauty should to-day depart. . .
CHRISTIAN: Say not so!
ROXANE: Ay, I say it!
CHRISTIAN: Ugly? How?
ROXANE: Ugly! I swear I'd love you still!
CHRISTIAN: My God!
ROXANE: Are you content at last?
CHRISTIAN (in a choked voice): Ay!. . .
ROXANE: What is wrong?
CHRISTIAN (gently pushing her away): Nothing. . .I have two words to say:--one second. . .
ROXANE: But?. . .
CHRISTIAN (pointing to the cadets): Those poor fellows, shortly doomed to death,-- My love deprives them of the sight of you: Go,--speak to them--smile on them ere they die!
ROXANE (deeply affected): Dear Christian!. . .
(She goes up to the cadets, who respectfully crowd round her.)
## Scene 4.IX.
Christian, Cyrano. At back Roxane talking to Carbon and some cadets.
CHRISTIAN (calling toward Cyrano's tent): Cyrano!
CYRANO (reappearing, fully armed): What? Why so pale?
CHRISTIAN: She does not love me!
CYRANO: What?
CHRISTIAN: 'Tis you she loves!
CYRANO: No!
CHRISTIAN: --For she loves me only for my soul!
CYRANO: Truly?
CHRISTIAN: Yes! Thus--you see, that soul is you,. . . Therefore, 'tis you she loves!--And you--love her!
CYRANO: I?
CHRISTIAN: Oh, I know it!
CYRANO: Ay, 'tis true!
CHRISTIAN: You love To madness!
CYRANO: Ay! and worse!
CHRISTIAN: Then tell her so!
CYRANO: No!
CHRISTIAN: And why not?
CYRANO: Look at my face!--be answered!
CHRISTIAN: She'd love me--were I ugly.
CYRANO: Said she so?
CHRISTIAN: Ay! in those words!
CYRANO: I'm glad she told you that! But pooh!--believe it not! I am well pleased She thought to tell you. Take it not for truth. Never grow ugly:--she'd reproach me then!
CHRISTIAN: That I intend discovering!
CYRANO: No! I beg!
CHRISTIAN: Ay! she shall choose between us!--Tell her all!
CYRANO: No! no! I will not have it! Spare me this!
CHRISTIAN: Because my face is haply fair, shall I Destroy your happiness? 'Twere too unjust!
CYRANO: And I,--because by Nature's freak I have The gift to say--all that perchance you feel. Shall I be fatal to your happiness?
CHRISTIAN: Tell all!
CYRANO: It is ill done to tempt me thus!
CHRISTIAN: Too long I've borne about within myself A rival to myself--I'll make an end!
CYRANO: Christian!
CHRISTIAN: Our union, without witness--secret-- Clandestine--can be easily dissolved If we survive.
CYRANO: My God!--he still persists!
CHRISTIAN: I will be loved myself--or not at all! --I'll go see what they do--there, at the end Of the post: speak to her, and then let her choose One of us two!
CYRANO: It will be you.
CHRISTIAN: Pray God! (He calls): Roxane!
CYRANO: No! no!
ROXANE (coming up quickly): What?
CHRISTIAN: Cyrano has things Important for your ear. . .
(She hastens to Cyrano. Christian goes out.)
## Scene 4.X.
Roxane, Cyrano. Then Le Bret, Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, the cadets, Ragueneau, De Guiche, etc.
ROXANE: Important, how?
CYRANO (in despair. to Roxane): He's gone! 'Tis naught!--Oh, you know how he sees Importance in a trifle!
ROXANE (warmly): Did he doubt Of what I said?--Ah, yes, I saw he doubted!
CYRANO (taking her hand): But are you sure you told him all the truth?
ROXANE: Yes, I would love him were he. . .
(She hesitates.)
CYRANO: Does that word Embarrass you before my face, Roxane?
ROXANE: I. . .
CYRANO (smiling sadly): 'Twill not hurt me! Say it! If he were Ugly!. . .
ROXANE: Yes, ugly! (Musket report outside): Hark! I hear a shot!
CYRANO (ardently): Hideous!
ROXANE: Hideous! yes!
CYRANO: Disfigured.
ROXANE: Ay!
CYRANO: Grotesque?
ROXANE: He could not be grotesque to me!
CYRANO: You'd love the same?. . .
ROXANE: The same--nay, even more!
CYRANO (losing command over himself--aside): My God! it's true, perchance, love waits me there! (To Roxane): I. . .Roxane. . .listen. . .
LE BRET (entering hurriedly--to Cyrano): Cyrano!
CYRANO (turning round): What?
LE BRET: Hush!
(He whispers something to him.)
CYRANO (letting go Roxane's hand and exclaiming): Ah, God!
ROXANE: What is it?
CYRANO (to himself--stunned): All is over now.
(Renewed reports.)
ROXANE: What is the matter? Hark! another shot!
(She goes up to look outside.)
CYRANO: It is too late, now I can never tell!
ROXANE (trying to rush out): What has chanced?
CYRANO (rushing to stop her): Nothing!
(Some cadets enter, trying to hide something they are carrying, and close round it to prevent Roxane approaching.)
ROXANE: And those men? (Cyrano draws her away): What were you just about to say before. . .?
CYRANO: What was I saying? Nothing now, I swear! (Solemnly): I swear that Christian's soul, his nature, were. . . (Hastily correcting himself): Nay, that they are, the noblest, greatest. . .
ROXANE: Were? (With a loud scream): Oh!
(She rushes up, pushing every one aside.)
CYRANO: All is over now!
ROXANE (seeing Christian lying on the ground, wrapped in his cloak): O Christian!
LE BRET (to Cyrano): Struck by first shot of the enemy!
(Roxane flings herself down by Christian. Fresh reports of cannon--clash of arms--clamor--beating of drums.)
CARBON (with sword in the air): O come! Your muskets.
(Followed by the cadets, he passes to the other side of the ramparts.)
ROXANE: Christian!
THE VOICE OF CARBON (from the other side): Ho! make haste!
ROXANE: Christian!
CARBON: FORM LINE!
ROXANE: Christian!
CARBON: HANDLE YOUR MATCH!
(Ragueneau rushes up, bringing water in a helmet.)
CHRISTIAN (in a dying voice): Roxane!
CYRANO (quickly, whispering into Christian's ear, while Roxane distractedly tears a piece of linen from his breast, which she dips into the water, trying to stanch the bleeding): I told her all. She loves you still.
(Christian closes his eyes.)
ROXANE: How, my sweet love?
CARBON: DRAW RAMRODS!
ROXANE (to Cyrano): He is not dead?
CARBON: OPEN YOUR CHARGES WITH YOUR TEETH!
ROXANE: His cheek Grows cold against my own!
CARBON: READY! PRESENT!
ROXANE (seeing a letter in Christian's doublet): A letter!. . . 'Tis for me!
(She opens it.)
CYRANO (aside): My letter!
CARBON: FIRE!
(Musket reports--shouts--noise of battle.)
CYRANO (trying to disengage his hand, which Roxane on her knees is holding): But, Roxane, hark, they fight!
ROXANE (detaining him): Stay yet awhile. For he is dead. You knew him, you alone. (Weeping quietly): Ah, was not his a beauteous soul, a soul Wondrous!
CYRANO (standing up--bareheaded): Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE: An inspired poet?
CYRANO: Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE: And a mind sublime?
CYRANO: Oh, yes!
ROXANE: A heart too deep for common minds to plumb, A spirit subtle, charming?
CYRANO (firmly): Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE (flinging herself on the dead body): Dead, my love!
CYRANO (aside--drawing his sword): Ay, and let me die to-day, Since, all unconscious, she mourns me--in him!
(Sounds of trumpets in the distance.)
DE GUICHE (appearing on the ramparts--bareheaded--with a wound on his forehead--in a voice of thunder): It is the signal! Trumpet flourishes! The French bring the provisions into camp! Hold but the place awhile!
ROXANE: See, there is blood Upon the letter--tears!
A VOICE (outside--shouting): Surrender!
VOICE OF CADETS: No!
RAGUENEAU (standing on the top of his carriage, watches the battle over the edge of the ramparts): The danger's ever greater!
CYRANO (to De Guiche--pointing to Roxane): I will charge! Take her away!
ROXANE (kissing the letter--in a half-extinguished voice): O God! his tears! his blood!. . .
RAGUENEAU (jumping down from the carriage and rushing toward her): She's swooned away!
DE GUICHE (on the rampart--to the cadets--with fury): Stand fast!
A VOICE (outside): Lay down your arms!
THE CADETS: No!
CYRANO (to De Guiche): Now that you have proved your valor, Sir, (Pointing to Roxane): Fly, and save her!
DE GUICHE (rushing to Roxane, and carrying her away in his arms): So be it! Gain but time, The victory's ours!
CYRANO: Good. (Calling out to Roxane, whom De Guiche, aided by Ragueneau, is bearing away in a fainting condition): Farewell, Roxane!
(Tumult. Shouts. Cadets reappear, wounded, falling on the scene. Cyrano, rushing to the battle, is stopped by Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, who is streaming with blood.)
CARBON: We are breaking! I am wounded--wounded twice!
CYRANO (shouting to the Gascons): GASCONS! HO, GASCONS! NEVER TURN YOUR BACKS! (To Carbon, whom he is supporting): Have no fear! I have two deaths to avenge: My friend who's slain;--and my dead happiness! (They come down, Cyrano brandishing the lance to which is attached Roxane's handkerchief): Float there! laced kerchief broidered with her name! (He sticks it in the ground and shouts to the cadets): FALL ON THEM, GASCONS! CRUSH THEM! (To the fifer): Fifer, play!
(The fife plays. The wounded try to rise. Some cadets, falling one over the other down the slope, group themselves round Cyrano and the little flag. The carriage is crowded with men inside and outside, and, bristling with arquebuses, is turned into a fortress.)
A CADET (appearing on the crest, beaten backward, but still fighting, cries): They're climbing the redoubt! (and falls dead.)
CYRANO: Let us salute them! (The rampart is covered instantly by a formidable row of enemies. The standards of the Imperialists are raised): Fire!
(General discharge.)
A CRY IN THE ENEMY'S RANKS: Fire!
(A deadly answering volley. The cadets fall on all sides.)
A SPANISH OFFICER (uncovering): Who are these men who rush on death?
CYRANO (reciting, erect, amid a storm of bullets): The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux! Brawling, swaggering boastfully, (He rushes forward, followed by a few survivors): The bold Cadets. . .
(His voice is drowned in the battle.)
Curtain.
## Act V.
Cyrano's Gazette.
Fifteen years later, in 1655. Park of the Sisters of the Holy Cross in Paris. Magnificent trees. On the left the house: broad steps on to which open several doors. An enormous plane tree in the middle of the stage, standing alone. On the right, among big boxwood trees, a semicircular stone bench.
The whole background of the stage is crossed by an alley of chestnut trees leading on the right hand to the door of a chapel seen through the branches. Through the double row of trees of this alley are seen lawns, other alleys, clusters of trees, winding of the park, the sky.
The chapel opens by a little side door on to a colonnade which is wreathed with autumn leaves, and is lost to view a little farther on in the right-hand foreground behind the boxwood.
It is autumn. All the foliage is red against the fresh green of the lawns. The green boxwood and yews stand out dark.
Under each tree a patch of yellow leaves.
The stage is strewn with dead leaves, which rustle under foot in the alleys, and half cover the steps and benches.