Act II, Scene vi | CYRANO: |  Blessed be the moment when you condescend— | | Remembering that humbly I exist— | | To come to meet me, and to say. . .to tell?. . . |
| ROXANE (who has unmasked): | | To thank you first of all. That dandy count, | | Whom you checkmated in brave sword-play | | Last night,. . .he is the man whom a great lord, | | Desirous of my favor. . . |
| ROXANE (casting down her eyes): | | Sought to impose on me. . .for husband. . . |
| CYRANO: | | Ay! Husband!—dupe-husband!. . .Husband a la mode! | | (Bowing): | | Then I fought, happy chance! sweet lady, not | | For my ill favor—but your favors fair! |
| ROXANE: | | Confession next!. . .But, ere I make my shrift, | | You must be once again that brother-friend | | With whom I used to play by the lake-side!. . . |
| CYRANO: | | Ay, you would come each spring to Bergerac! |
| ROXANE: | | Mind you the reeds you cut to make your swords?. . . |
| CYRANO: | | While you wove corn-straw plaits for your dolls' hair! |
| ROXANE: | | Those were the days of games!. . . |
| CYRANO: | | And blackberries!. . . |
| ROXANE: | | In those days you did everything I bid!. . . |
| CYRANO: | | Roxane, in her short frock, was Madeleine. . . |
| ROXANE: | | Was I fair then? |
| CYRANO: | | You were not ill to see! |
| ROXANE: | | Ofttimes, with hands all bloody from a fall, | | You'd run to me! Then—aping mother-ways— | | I, in a voice would-be severe, would chide,— | | (She takes his hand): | | 'What is this scratch, again, that I see here?' | | (She starts, surprised): | | Oh! 'Tis too much! What's this? | | (Cyrano tries to draw away his hand): | | No, let me see! | | At your age, fie! Where did you get that scratch? |
| CYRANO: | | I got it—playing at the Porte de Nesle. |
| ROXANE (seating herself by the table, and dipping her handkerchief in a glass | | of water): | | Give here! |
| CYRANO (sitting by her): | | So soft! so gay maternal-sweet! |
| 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? |
| CYRANO: | | How now?. . .He is not of the Guards! |
| 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.) |
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