Part 10
(_Exit Roxane, with the Duke, without listening to Ragueneau, who comes down toward Le Bret._)
_SCENE III._
LE BRET, RAGUENEAU.
RAGUENEAU.
After all, since you are here, Sir, it is just as well that she should be kept in ignorance! I was on my way to see your friend, this afternoon, when, as I was nearing his door, I saw him coming out. As I was endeavouring to overtake him, and as he was turning the corner, a window above him opened, and,--was it through accident? perhaps! a lackey dropped upon him a heavy log of wood.
LE BRET.
Cowards!.... Abominable!
RAGUENEAU.
Our friend, Sir, our poet, lay there on the ground with a large hole in his head!
LE BRET.
Is he dead?
RAGUENEAU.
No! but in what a state! I carried him up to his room... his room! You should see what it is!
LE BRET.
He is in great pain?
RAGUENEAU.
No, Sir, he has not recovered his senses.
LE BRET.
You found a doctor?
RAGUENEAU.
Yes, one who was good enough to come.
LE BRET.
Unfortunate Cyrano!--We must break the news gently to Roxane.--And what said the doctor?
RAGUENEAU.
He spoke of fever.... meningitis. Oh! if you saw him.... with his poor head bandaged!.... Come quickly, Sir, there is nobody with him! It would be death to him if he left his bed!
LE BRET (_urging him toward the right_).
This way is shorter; through the Chapel!
ROXANE (_appearing on the porch, and seeing Le Bret and Ragueneau running up the colonnade to the Chapel!_)
Monsieur Le Bret!
(_Exeunt Le Bret and Ragueneau without answering._)
No doubt another of good Ragueneau's troubles.
_SCENE IV._
ROXANE _alone, two_ SISTERS _a moment_.
How beautiful these last September days! My sadness fain would smile. Spring's ardour oft Offends our grief, but Autumn chastens it.
(_She sits down before her work. Two sisters sally from the house carrying a large armchair that they place under the tree._)
Ah! here's the chair in which Cyrano sits.
(_Exeunt Sisters._)
The hour strikes.... he's coming.--Where are my skeins!--He's not here yet? The first time he is late.... My thimble.... Here it is. Some sister preaching to him, no doubt.
(_A pause._)
How thickly fall the leaves!....
(_She removes some dead leaves from her work._)
Moreover, what could prevent his coming?
A SISTER (_from the porch_).
Monsieur de Bergerac.
_SCENE V._
ROXANE, CYRANO, _and, one moment_, SISTER MARTHA.
ROXANE (_without turning around_).
Why did I worry so?
(_She works.--Enter Cyrano, very pale, with his hat well over his eyes. Exit sister who announced him. He descends the steps slowly, with a visible effort to remain erect, leaning heavily on his stick._)
For the first time in fourteen years, you are late!
CYRANO (_who has gained his chair and seated himself, speaks in a cheerful tone, in contrast with his looks_).
Yes, and, in truth, I boil with rage. I was delayed....
ROXANE.
By what, by whom?
CYRANO.
By an intruder.
ROXANE (_distraught_).
Some bore? But you got rid of him, or her.
CYRANO.
Yes. "Excuse me," said I, "but this is Saturday, and I have a weekly engagement that nothing can prevent me from keeping. Return an hour hence!"
ROXANE (_lightly_).
The person shall wait. I'll keep you here until evening.
CYRANO.
I may be compelled to leave you sooner.
(_He closes his eyes and remains silent a moment. Sister Martha appears in the rear going to the Chapel. Roxane sees her, and nods._)
ROXANE (_to Cyrano_).
How is it you do not tease Sister Martha to-day?
CYRANO (_rapidly, opening his eyes_).
Tease? Of course!
(_with affected severity_).
Sister Martha! Come here.
(_Sister Martha goes up to him._)
Ha! ha! Your eyes are too fine to remain thus forever down!
SISTER MARTHA (_smiling_).
But....
(_She notices his pale looks._)
Oh!
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 show How beauty e'er recoils from rottenness: For, as they drop, they do not in their grace Appear 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 read His 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 he Who 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 sublime To break as now?
CYRANO.
Roxane, oh! why, indeed?
(_Le Bret and Ragueneau enter on a run._)
[25] Note.--Intentional affectation, like that of "his indisposition was sentenced, for high treason."
_SCENE VI._
_The same_, LE BRET _and_ RAGUENEAU.
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 gave _Scapin_, 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 been The one who prompts--and ever is forgot!
(_to Roxane_).
Do you recall the night when Christian spoke His love for you--beneath your balcony? The words were mine, and mine the fondest thoughts; But I remained below, unknown, in darkness, while Another 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 alone Can 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 laughed At 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 air As prompt with parry as reply, A lover too--alas!--here lies Sir Hercules, Savinian De 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 less For 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 sense Of 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 is A something that I bear along with me To 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]
[26] Note.--An evident anachronism, since Molière did not open his Paris theatre until three years later (1658). Given, however, the deep knowledge of seventeenth century matters displayed throughout this drama, the anachronism must be intentional, the poet's object doubtless having been to embody the tradition according to which the "Qu'allait-il faire dans cette galère?" of Molière's "Fourberies de Scapin" (produced only in 1671) was taken from Cyrano de Bergerac's "Le Pédant Joué."
[27] Note.--"It" here is Death (feminine in French). The personifying _he_ somewhat customary in English poetry, was set aside, and the _neuter_ gender was intentionally preserved, because, being more vague, it better represents the terror-striking _unknown_, and is more expressive of Cyrano's daring _contempt_ and repulsion for a loathsome _thing_. Cyrano, who put to flight one hundred men, could not be expected to fear a person, much less a personification.
[28] Note.--See Introduction, Preface and Prefatory Triolets ("Le Panache").
_CURTAIN._
[Illustration: _FIFTH ACT._]
Transcriber's Note
Apparent printer's errors have been retained, unless stated below.
Capitalization, accents and formatting markup have been normalized. Please note that although ellipses as well as punctuation around brackets appear inconsistent, these have been kept true to the text.
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Illustration tags have been moved to the end of each Act.
Page 139, "seige" changed to "siege". (That during this terrible siege he shall never be cold!)
Page 139, "CHRISTIAN" changed to "CYRANO". Other editions have Cyrano speaking this line, and it only makes sense when it is spoken by him. (CYRANO (_halting_).)
Page 141 and 156, "Ventrebieu" has been retained. It is believed that this may be a typo for "Ventrebleu", however, multiple volumes in both French and English use the same term.
Page 150, "Decartes" changed to "Descartes". (.... and I ... will read Descartes.)
Page 188, CYRANO's name appeared twice in a row without a second character speaking in between. (Once before his line, "We'll give them a salute!" and again before he said "Fire!") This redundancy was corrected.
Page 192, "vail" changed to "veil". (Roxane is seen in the rear; she is in black, wearing the long veil of a widow.)
Page 209, "Youé" changed to "Joué". (Given, however, the deep knowledge of seventeenth century matters displayed throughout this drama, the anachronism must be intentional, the poet's object doubtless having been to embody the tradition according to which the "Qu'allait-il faire dans cette galère?" of Molière's "Fourberies de Scapin" (produced only in 1671) was taken from Cyrano de Bergerac's "Le Pédant Joué.")
Page 210, "genuis" changed to "genius". ('Tis justice, and my dying breath approves; Molière has genius, Christian's beauty won.)
Page 212, "ROXANE" changed to "LE BRET". Other editions have Le Bret speaking this line, and as Cyrano has just addressed him, it makes better sense. (LE BRET. Oh! speak not thus!)