Cyrano de Bergerac
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):