Part 7
[20] Note.--In this tirade, and in the following one, _you_, _thou_ and _she_ are intentionally interwoven. When Cyrano is carried by his emotion, he passes from _you_ to _thou_, which latter is, in French, familiar and endearing much more than in English. Then, reclaimed by reason and fearing that he has overstepped the bounds, he returns to the (in French) more formal _you_, or resorts to a discreet _she_, only to forget himself again and to resume the caressing _thou_.
_SCENE VII._
CYRANO, CHRISTIAN, _a_ CAPUCHIN MONK.
CYRANO (_to the Monk_).
Are you a new Diogenes?
MONK.
I'm looking for the house of Madam Magdeleine Robin.
CYRANO (_pointing to one of the streets_).
That way--straight ahead--as far as you can go....
MONK.
Thank you, Sir!--I'll tell my beads for you.
(_Exit Monk._)
CYRANO.
Peace be with you! I bid you Godspeed!
(_Comes down toward Christian._)
_SCENE VIII._
CYRANO, CHRISTIAN.
CHRISTIAN.
Obtain for me that kiss!
CYRANO.
No, Sir!
CHRISTIAN.
But, sooner or later, you know....
CYRANO.
True, The time will come, that time of bliss intense, When each will fall into the other's arms, And blond mustache to rosy lips will go!
(_aside_)
'Twas better that at least I cause the bliss.
(_Window above opens. Christian conceals himself beneath the balcony._)
_SCENE IX._
CYRANO, CHRISTIAN, ROXANE.
ROXANE (_coming out on the balcony_).
Is it you?--Yes.... What were we speaking of?.... oh! of a.... well, of....
CYRANO.
A kiss! The word is soft. Why hesitate? The name, be sure, will not maltreat your lips, However burning be the thing itself.-- Just now, you left the trifling mood, to glide, To steal from smile to sigh, and sigh to tears. Glide on!.... From tear to kiss there's but a thrill!
ROXANE.
Be silent!
CYRANO.
After all, what is a kiss? An oath that's given closer than before; A promise more precise; the sealing of Confessions that till then were barely breathed; A ruby O to spell the verb: I love![21] A secret that's confided to a mouth And not to ears; a precious moment of Infinity that buzzes like a bee; Communion with the fragrance flowers have; A gentle way for heart to breathe a heart, For soul from fervid lips to drink a soul!
ROXANE.
Be still!
CYRANO.
A kiss is oft a thing so grand That once a queen of France permitted one Unto a happy lord. I said: a queen!
ROXANE.
And then?
CYRANO (_excited_).
Like Buckingham, I've suffered long; Like him I love a queen, the one that's you! Like him, I'm sad and faithful....
ROXANE.
And like him You've beauty.
CYRANO (_aside, abashed_).
Yes.... I've beauty.... I forgot!
ROXANE.
Well, then, come up, to cull the flower....
CYRANO (_pushing Christian toward the balcony_).
Go!
ROXANE.
Whose fragrance....
CYRANO (_to Christian_).
Go!
ROXANE.
The buzzing of the bee....
CYRANO (_to Christian_).
Go up!
CHRISTIAN (_hesitating_).
But now, it really seems a crime!
ROXANE.
A moment of infinity....
CYRANO (_pushing Christian_).
You fool, Go up!
(_Christian, by aid of bench, vines and posts, reaches the balcony and steps over the railing._)
CHRISTIAN.
Roxane!....
(_He clasps her to his breast and kisses her on the lips._)
CYRANO (_aside_).
What pinches so my heart?.... That kiss!.... a feast where I'm the Lazarus!.... Sweet feast, from thee there falls to me a crumb, Since on the lips Roxane mistakes, alas! She drinks the words that I just now pronounced!
(_Sound of instruments._)
An air that's sad, a lively air!--The Monk!
(_Affecting to run as if coming from a distance. In clear tone:_)
Hello!
ROXANE.
What is it?
CYRANO.
It is I, Cyrano. I was passing.... Is Christian still here?
CHRISTIAN (_as if astonished_).
Why! it's Cyrano!
ROXANE.
How do you do, cousin?
CYRANO.
Cousin, how do you do?
ROXANE.
I'll come down.
(_She disappears into the house. By the rear, enter the Monk._)
CHRISTIAN (_perceiving him_).
What! he again!
(_He follows Roxane._)
[21] Note.--"Un point rose qu'on met sur l'i du verbe aimer."
"A ruby O"...., as above, may prove, it is thought, a good example of _equivalence_, the _i_, impossible here in English, finding in O a good substitute, calling up, if not exactly the very same image, at least a kindred one fully as good.
_SCENE X._
CYRANO, CHRISTIAN, ROXANE, THE MONK, RAGUENEAU.
THE MONK.
She must live here--I insist--Magdeleine Robin!
CYRANO.
Why! You said _Ro-lin_.
MONK.
No! _Bin_. B, I, N, _bin_!
ROXANE (_appears in the doorway, followed by Ragueneau, carrying a lighted lantern, and by Christian_).
What is it?
MONK.
A letter.
CHRISTIAN.
What's this?
MONK (_to Roxane_).
Oh! it can but be a saintly thing! A worthy gentleman....
ROXANE (_to Christian_).
Evidently Guiche!
CHRISTIAN.
He would dare?....
ROXANE.
Oh! he cannot long annoy me! I love you, and....
(_She opens the letter, and, by the aid of Ragueneau's lantern, she reads to herself, in a low voice:_)
"Mademoiselle,
"The drums are beating and my regiment is about to start. All think that I have already gone; but I have remained, thus disobeying you. I am here in the convent. I'll come to you forthwith, but I give you notice of my visit, through an innocent monk who knows not what message he is carrying. Your lips smiled to me just now; I must see them again. Dismiss whoever is near you, and condescend to hear the bold suitor whom you have, I trust, already forgiven, and who remains your most.... et cetera...."
(_to the Monk_).
Father, listen! Here is what the letter says:
(_All come up and listen, as she reads aloud:_)
"Mademoiselle,
"You must submit to the will of the Cardinal, however hard it may appear to you. And that is why I send this message by a saintly, most intelligent and discreet capuchin. We desire you to receive his blessing....(_turning the page_) his nuptial blessing immediately. Christian must be married to you secretly. I send him to you, though I know you like him not. Be resigned, remembering that Heaven will bless your zeal. Be assured, Mademoiselle, of my respect, for I have been and shall ever be your most humble and very.... et cetera."
MONK (_delighted_).
Worthy gentleman! I knew he could suggest but a saintly thing!
ROXANE (_aside to Christian_).
Do you not think I read letters well?
CHRISTIAN.
It depends....
ROXANE (_aloud, in despair_).
Ah!.... this is terrible!
MONK (_throwing the light of the lantern upon Cyrano_).
Are you the groom?
CHRISTIAN.
I am the one!
MONK (_turning the light upon Christian and as if he was in doubt on seeing Christian's handsome looks_).
But, my son....
ROXANE (_eagerly_).
There is a Post Scriptum: "Donate to the convent one hundred and twenty pistoles."
MONK.
Worthy, worthy gentleman! (_To Roxane_) Be resigned!
ROXANE (_with a martyr's look_).
I am!
(_While Ragueneau shows the Monk into the house, on Christian's invitation, Roxane, in low tone, says to Cyrano_).
Guiche is coming. Detain him here until....
CYRANO.
I understand.
(_to the Monk_). To give them your blessing will take you.... how long?
MONK.
A quarter of an hour.
CYRANO (_pushing them all into the house_).
Go in, go in! Only one must remain here: I!
ROXANE (_to Christian_).
Come!
(_They all go into the house._)
CYRANO.
How can I detain Guiche fifteen minutes? Oh! I have a plan!
(_He climbs upon the balcony. The archlutes play a sort of dirge._)
This time it must be a man, most certainly. It is!
(_He is on the balcony, with his hat well down over his eyes. Takes off his sword, wraps himself in his cloak, leans over the railing and observes._)
No! Really not too high!
(_Straddles the railing, seizes a long branch of one of the trees and makes ready to drop._)
I'll only slightly disturb the atmosphere!
_SCENE XI._
CYRANO, GUICHE.
GUICHE (_masked, and hesitating in the dark_).
What can this infernal monk be doing?
CYRANO.
By the way--my voice?--He might recognise it!
(_He loosens a hand and makes the motion of turning a key._)
Cric! Crac!
(_Solemnly_) Now, Cyrano, resume the accent of Bergerac!
GUICHE (_looking at the house_).
Here's the house!
(_He is about to enter, but Cyrano springs from the balcony while holding on to the branch; the latter bends and lets him down between Guiche and the door. He affects to fall heavily, as if from a great height, remaining crushed and dazed. Guiche jumps back._)
What is this?
(_When Guiche recovers from his astonishment the branch has sprung up again, so that Cyrano appears to have fallen from the sky._)
From where did this man drop?
CYRANO (_speaking with a Gascon's accent_).
From the moon!
GUICHE.
The moon!....
CYRANO (_as if dazed_).
What time is it? What country is this? What month? What day?
GUICHE.
But, my dear Sir....
CYRANO.
I feel quite dizzy.--Like a bombshell, I have just dropped from the moon!
GUICHE (_out of patience_).
Look here, Sir!....
CYRANO (_rising, and in thundering tone_).
I say that I dropped!
GUICHE (_falling back_).
So be it, then! You dropped!.... (_aside_) He is no doubt insane!
CYRANO (_walking toward him_).
And my drop is not metaphorical!.... One hundred years, or one minute ago--I cannot tell how long I was on the way--I was up in that saffron-coloured ball!
GUICHE (_shrugging his shoulders_).
Quite so! But allow me to pass!
CYRANO (_stopping him_).
Be frank now! Where am I? Where have I fallen like a meteorite?
GUICHE.
Zounds, Sir!....
CYRANO.
During my fall, I could make no selection as to my point of arrival. Is it upon a moon or an earth that my dead weight has just landed?
GUICHE.
But I repeat to you, Sir!....
CYRANO (_with a cry of horror that causes Guiche to fall back_).
Good Heavens!.... In this country are people's faces black? Am I in Algiers, and are you a native?
GUICHE (_touching his mask_).
No doubt, this mask....
CYRANO (_seemingly less frightened_).
Oh! then, it's Venice.... or Genoa!
GUICHE (_trying to pass_).
A lady is waiting for me!...
CYRANO (_completely reassured_).
Then I must be in Paris!
GUICHE (_reluctantly smiling_).
The rascal is amusing!
CYRANO.
You are laughing.
GUICHE.
Yes,--but I must pass.
CYRANO (_apparently overjoyed_).
So I have dropped in Paris!....
(_Quite at his ease, laughing, dusting himself, and bowing._)
I have just arrived--pardon me--by the last cyclone, and I must brush off the ether that is still on me. I've travelled! My eyes are still full of astral dust, and my spurs have caught planet hairs.
(_picking something off his sleeve_).
Here, on my doublet, is one from a comet!....
(_He blows, as if to cast off the hair._)
GUICHE (_enraged_).
Now, look here, Sir!....
(_As Guiche is going to pass, Cyrano stretches out his leg as if to show something that is on it._)
CYRANO.
In the calf of this leg, Sir, I have a tooth of the Great Bear,--and, as nearing the Trident, I managed to avoid its three lances, I fell in a lump upon the Balance--where my weight up there is still registered!
(_preventing Guiche from passing and holding him by one of his buttons._)
If you were to press my nose, Sir, you would cause a flow of milk!....
GUICHE.
Milk, indeed!
CYRANO.
Yes, Sir.... from the Milky Way!
GUICHE.
Oh! by Satan!....
CYRANO.
No! I dropped from heaven! (_crossing his arms_). Would you believe it? I noticed it as I was going by there: Sirius, at night actually wears a turban! (_confidentially_) The other Bear, the little one, is still too small to bite! (_laughing_) As I was passing through the Lyre, I broke one of its strings! (_proudly_) But I intend to write a book on the subject; and the golden stars that I gathered into my scorched cloak, regardless of peril, shall be used by my printer for asterisks!
GUICHE.
Once more, I must insist....
CYRANO.
Oh! Sir, I know what you desire!
GUICHE.
You do?....
CYRANO.
Yes. You desire to hear from me how the moon is made, and if any one inhabits the rotundity of this cucurbit![22]
GUICHE (_very loud_).
No! No! I desire....
CYRANO.
To learn how I got up there? Easily. Through an invention of mine.
GUICHE (_discouraged_).
A madman, certainly!
CYRANO (_disdainfully_).
I copied not the stupid eagle of Regiomontanus, or the timid pigeon of Archytas!....
GUICHE.
A madman--but a learned one.
CYRANO.
No, Sir. I imitated nothing ever done.
(_Guiche, having managed to pass, is nearing Roxane's door, but Cyrano follows, ready to seize him._)
I invented six different ways of assaulting the virgin blue!
GUICHE (_turning_).
Six?
CYRANO (_with increased fluency_).
I could, with body as bare as a taper, have comparisoned it with crystal phials o'erflowing with tears from the morning skies, and my person, then, if exposed in the sun, would have been aspirated by the luminary along with the dew!
GUICHE (_astonished, goes toward Cyrano_).
True! That is one way!
CYRANO (_backing, so as to draw him further away_).
Again, I could have created a powerful gust of wind, to lift me, if I had rarefied the air in a cedar box, by means of heated mirrors forming an icosahedron!
GUICHE (_following Cyrano_).
Two ways!
CYRANO (_still backing_).
Or else, being both a machinist and an artificer, have straddled a steel-legged grasshopper, and caused myself, through successive explosions of saltpetre, to be projected into the azure fields where the stars are wont to graze!
GUICHE (_still following him, and counting on his fingers_).
That is three!
CYRANO.
Since smoke persists in rising, I might have blown into a globe enough of it to carry me up!
GUICHE (_more and more astonished_).
Four!
CYRANO.
Since Phoebe, when her bow is the thinnest, loves to draw, O beeves! your marrow,.... anoint myself with the same!
GUICHE (_stupefied_).
Five!
CYRANO (_who has managed, while talking, to press Guiche over to the other side of the square, near a bench_).
Last: I could have placed myself upon an iron plate, taken a magnet and thrown it up into the air! This is a capital way. As soon as the magnet starts, the iron rushes in pursuit of it. The magnet is thrown up again; the iron plate follows--and, Cadedis! there is nothing to prevent the ascension from lasting indefinitely.
GUICHE.
Six!--All excellent systems. And, tell me, Sir, which one of the six did you adopt?
CYRANO.
A seventh one!
GUICHE.
Astonishing! And what was it, please?
CYRANO.
You would never dream of it!....
GUICHE (_aside_).
The fellow is really interesting!
CYRANO (_very mysterious and imitating the sound of waves on a beach_).
Houüh! Houüh!
GUICHE.
What's that?
CYRANO.
You cannot imagine?
GUICHE.
No!
CYRANO.
The tide!.... As it was running out, in obedience to the attraction of the moon, I lay on the sands--head foremost, so that my hair--hair, you know, does not dry fast--so that my hair was kept bathed in the receding waves. And, thus I was, by the moon's attraction, drawn up, up, erect, like an angel. And up I went, gently, without an effort, until suddenly, I felt a shock!.... Then!....
GUICHE (_interested, takes a seat on the bench_).
Then?....
CYRANO.
Then.... (_resuming his natural tone_). The fifteen minutes have elapsed, Sir, and now I grant you your freedom. The marriage is accomplished!
GUICHE (_jumping up_).
Am I intoxicated?.... That voice!
(_The door of Roxane's house opens; lackeys come out with lighted candelabra. Cyrano takes off his hat that he had kept well down over his face._)
And that nose!.... Cyrano!
CYRANO (_bowing_).
In person.... Cyrano! They have just exchanged their marriage rings.
GUICHE.
They!.... Who?
(_He turns. Tableau. Behind the lackeys, Roxane and Christian holding each other by the hand. The Monk, smiling, follows them. Ragueneau is behind, also holding a light. And last is the Duenna, bewildered, half dressed, as if she had been hurried out of bed._)
Merciful heavens!
[22] Note.--_Cucurbit_ ("cucurbite") for moon is, in French, as odd as it appears in English. The oddity of the expression, that assimulates Luna to the rotund melon, pumpkin, etc., of the genus of plants known as _cucurbita_, is in keeping with Cyrano's intentional extravagance of speech.
_SCENE XII._
_The same._ ROXANE, CHRISTIAN, THE MONK, RAGUENEAU, LACKEYS, THE DUENNA.
GUICHE (_to Roxane_).
You, Roxane!
(_Astounded on recognising Christian_) and he?
(_Bowing admiringly to Roxane._)
You are admirably shrewd!
(_To Cyrano_) My compliments to you, Sir, as an inventor. Your narrative would have stopped a saint at the gate of heaven! Do not forget to write that book!
CYRANO (_bowing_).
I promise, Sir, to follow your advice.
THE MONK (_with an air of satisfaction calling Guiche's attention to the two lovers_).
A beautiful couple, my son, and good work of yours!
GUICHE (_very coldly_).
Yes.
(_to Roxane_) Be good enough to bid farewell, Madam, to your husband.
ROXANE.
How so?
GUICHE (_to Christian_).
Your regiment is about to march. Join it immediately!
ROXANE.
Is it going to the war?
GUICHE.
Of course it is.
ROXANE.
But you said, Sir, that the Cadets were not going!
GUICHE.
They shall go!
(_Drawing from his pocket the paper he had put into it._)
Here is the order.
(_to Christian_) Bear it yourself, Baron.
ROXANE (_throwing herself into the arms of Christian_).
Oh! dear Christian!
GUICHE (_chuckling, to Cyrano_).
A still very distant honeymoon!
CYRANO (_aside_).
A fact not so annoying to me as he thinks!
CHRISTIAN (_to Roxane_).
Another kiss! Your lips again!
CYRANO.
Come, that is enough! enough!
CHRISTIAN (_still kissing Roxane_).
It is very hard to leave her.... You do not know....
CYRANO (_endeavouring to draw him away_).
Oh! yes, I do!
(_Drums beating a march, in the distance._)
GUICHE (_who has gone up to the rear_).
The troops are leaving!
ROXANE (_to Cyrano, who is drawing away Christian while she is trying to hold him back_).
Oh!.... I entrust him to you! Promise me that nothing shall endanger his life!
CYRANO.
I shall do my best.... but I can hardly promise....
ROXANE (_still holding on to Christian_).
Promise me that he shall be very prudent!
CYRANO.
I'll try, but as to promising....
ROXANE (_still holding on_).
That during this terrible siege he shall never be cold!
CYRANO.
If it is at all possible, but....
ROXANE (_still holding on_).
That he shall remain true to me!
CYRANO.
Yes! of course! But I cannot....
ROXANE (_still holding on_).
That he shall write to me often!
CYRANO (_halting_).
Oh! that--I promise you!
_CURTAIN._
[Illustration: _THIRD ACT._]
_ACT IV._
THE CADETS OF GASCONY.
_The post occupied by the Company of Carbon of Haughty-Hall at the siege of Arras. In the rear, an embankment running across the stage. Beyond, a plain, extending as far as the horizon, covered with siege works. In the distance, the walls of the City of Arras, with the outline of its roofs against the sky. Tents; arms strewn around; drums, etc.--Day is about to dawn; gold in the east. Sentinels here and there. Camp fires.--Rolled up in their cloaks the Cadets of Gascony are sleeping. Carbon of Haughty-Hall and Le Bret are watching. They are very pale and thin. Christian is asleep, in front, his face lighted by a fire. Silence._
_SCENE I._
CHRISTIAN, CARBON OF HAUGHTY-HALL, LE BRET, THE CADETS, _later_ CYRANO.
LE BRET.
It's awful!
CARBON.
Yes, nothing left to eat.
LE BRET.
Mordious!
CARBON (_motioning to him to speak lower_).
Deaden your oaths! or you'll wake the men.
(_to the Cadets_).
Sleep on!
(_to Le Bret_).
He who sleeps eats!
LE BRET.
Yes, but waking starves!
(_A few musket reports are heard in the distance._)
CARBON.
Confound the muskets!.... They'll wake up my children.
(_to several of the Cadets who lift up their heads_).
Sleep!
(_More musketry, nearer_).
A CADET (_tossing_).
The Devil! again?
CARBON.
It's nothing! Only Cyrano coming back!
(_The lifted heads lie down again._)
A SENTINEL (_outside_).
Who goes there?
CYRANO (_outside_).
Bergerac!
A SENTINEL (_on the embankment_).
Ventrebieu! who goes there?
CYRANO.
Bergerac, you idiot!
(_He comes down and is met by Le Bret._)
LE BRET.
What, you! wounded?
CYRANO (_raising his hand_).
Hush! You know that they miss me regularly every morning.
LE BRET.
What! risk your life thus, every day, just to carry a letter without the camp! That is going too far.
CYRANO (_stopping in front of Christian_).
I promised that he would write often!
(_looking at him_).
He sleeps. How pale! If sweet Roxane knew that he is starving! But he has not lost his good looks.
LE BRET.
Go get some sleep!
CYRANO.
Don't growl, Le Bret!.... Remember this: To pass through the Spanish lines, I long ago selected a place where they are invariably drunk.
LE BRET.
Why don't you once bring back some provisions?
CYRANO.
A load would not leave me light enough to pass through. But there is going to be a change. We, the French, shall soon eat.... or die,--if my eyes did not deceive me....
LE BRET.
How soon?
CYRANO.
You'll see!.... I'm not sure enough to speak.
CARBON.
Isn't it shameful that the besiegers should be the ones to starve!
LE BRET.
An extraordinary siege this! We are besieging Arras, and the Spanish are besieging us.
CYRANO.
Somebody should come now to besiege the Spanish.
LE BRET.
Do not joke so.--When I think that a life, precious as yours is, can be risked daily just to carry....
(_Cyrano walks toward one of the tents._)
Where are you going?
CYRANO.
I am going to write another letter.
(_Enters tent._)
_SCENE II._
_The same, less_ CYRANO.
_Day is dawning. Rosy tints in the sky, and golden ones on the distant city. A gun is heard, then drums beat in the distance, to the left. Other drums are heard, successively, nearer, and nearer, until they sound on the stage, the noise then receding gradually, toward the right. Awakening of the Camp. Officers' commands in the distance._
CARBON (_sighing_).
Reveille!.... Alas!
(_the Cadets begin rising._)
Their dream of dinner is finished.... I know what their cry will be now.
A CADET (_rising_).
I'm hungry!
ANOTHER CADET.
I'm half dead!
OTHER CADETS.
We are dead! quite!
CARBON.
Get up!
SEVERAL CADETS.
Can't!
FIRST CADET (_using his breastplate as a looking-glass_).
My tongue is yellow. Indigestion!
ANOTHER CADET.
As to me, if my gastric organ gets not wherewith to produce a pint of chyle, I'll retire into my tent--like Achilles.
SEVERAL CADETS.
Bread! Something to eat! Now!
CARBON (_going to the tent of Cyrano and speaking low to him_).
Cyrano, help! Come with your ready wit, and put some life into them. Give them new courage.
A CADET (_to another who is chewing something_).
What are you nibbling at?
THE OTHER CADET.
Cannon wad fried in axle grease! There is but little game around Arras.
ANOTHER CADET (_entering_).
I've been out shooting.
STILL ANOTHER CADET (_likewise entering_).
And I've been fishing in the Scarpe.
ALL THE CADETS (_rushing up to them_).
What have you killed? What have you caught?--A pheasant?--A carp?--Quick, quick, show them!
THE FISHERMAN.
A gudgeon!
THE HUNTSMAN.
A sparrow!
ALL THE CADETS (_exasperated_).
Enough, enough! too much!--let us mutiny!
CARBON.
Help, Cyrano.
(_Daylight has come._)
_SCENE III._
_The same_, CYRANO.
CYRANO (_leaving his tent, perfectly tranquil, a pen over his ear, book in hand_).
Hey!....
(_Silence. To the first Cadet_).
What makes you drag your feet along so?
THE CADET.
Something in my heels that should not be there!....
CYRANO.
What's that?
THE CADET.
My stomach!
CYRANO.
Mine's the same. What of it?
THE CADET.
Isn't it inconvenient?
CYRANO.
No, it heightens me.
SECOND CADET.
My teeth are very long.
CYRANO.
Well, you can bite off a larger piece.
ANOTHER CADET.
My skin sounds empty.
CYRANO.
We'll use it as a drum, for the charge.
ANOTHER CADET.
There is a humming in my ears.
CYRANO.
Not that; an empty stomach has no ears. Impossible!
OTHER CADET.
Oh! for something to eat,--with good oil!
CYRANO (_taking off the helmet of the Cadet, in whose hand he places it_).
Eat your salad.
ANOTHER CADET.
What could we find to devour?