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Cyrano de Bergerac
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Act II, Scene ix

Cyrano, Le Bret, the cadets, Christian de Neuvillette.
A CADET (seated at a table, glass in hand):
Cyrano!
(Cyrano turns round):
The story!
CYRANO:
In its time!
(He goes up on Le Bret's arm. They talk in low voices.)
THE CADET (rising and coming down):
The story of the fray! 'Twill lesson well
(He stops before the table where Christian is seated):
This timid young apprentice!
CHRISTIAN (raising his head):
'Prentice! Who?
ANOTHER CADET:
This sickly Northern greenhorn!
CHRISTIAN:
Sickly!
FIRST CADET (mockingly):
Hark!
Monsieur de Neuvillette, this in your ear:
There's somewhat here, one no more dares to name,
Than to say 'rope' to one whose sire was hanged!
CHRISTIAN:
What may that be?
ANOTHER CADET (in a terrible voice):
See here!
(He puts his finger three times, mysteriously, on his nose):
Do you understand?
CHRISTIAN:
Oh! 'tis the. . .
ANOTHER:
Hush! oh, never breathe that word,
Unless you'd reckon with him yonder!
(He points to Cyrano, who is talking with Le Bret.)
ANOTHER (who has meanwhile come up noiselessly to sit on the table—whispering
behind him):
Hark!
He put two snuffling men to death, in rage,
For the sole reason they spoke through their nose!
ANOTHER (in a hollow voice, darting on all-fours from under the table, where
he had crept):
And if you would not perish in flower o' youth,
—Oh, mention not the fatal cartilage!
ANOTHER (clapping him on the shoulder):
A word? A gesture! For the indiscreet
His handkerchief may prove his winding-sheet!
(Silence. All, with crossed arms, look at Christian. He rises and goes over
to Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, who is talking to an officer, and feigns to see
nothing.)
CHRISTIAN:
Captain!
CARBON (turning and looking at him from head to foot):
Sir!
CHRISTIAN:
Pray, what skills it best to do
To Southerners who swagger?. . .
CARBON:
Give them proof
That one may be a Northerner, yet brave!
(He turns his back on him.)
CHRISTIAN:
I thank you.
FIRST CADET (to Cyrano):
Now the tale!
ALL:
The tale!
CYRANO (coming toward them):
The tale?. . .
(All bring their stools up, and group round him, listening eagerly. Christian
is astride a chair):
Well! I went all alone to meet the band.
The moon was shining, clock-like, full i' th' sky,
When, suddenly, some careful clockwright passed
A cloud of cotton-wool across the case
That held this silver watch. And, presto! heigh!
The night was inky black, and all the quays
Were hidden in the murky dark. Gadsooks!
One could see nothing further. . .
CHRISTIAN:
Than one's nose!
(Silence. All slowly rise, looking in terror at Cyrano, who has stopped—
dumfounded. Pause.)
CYRANO:
Who on God's earth is that?
A CADET (whispering):
It is a man
Who joined to-day.
CYRANO (making a step toward Christian):
To-day?
CARBON (in a low voice):
Yes. . .his name is
The Baron de Neuvil. . .
CYRANO (checking himself):
Good! It is well. . .
(He turns pale, flushes, makes as if to fall on Christian):
I. . .
(He controls himself):
What said I?. . .
(With a burst of rage):
MORDIOUS!. . .
(Then continues calmly):
That it was dark.
(Astonishment. The cadets reseat themselves, staring at him):
On I went, thinking, 'For a knavish cause
I may provoke some great man, some great prince,
Who certainly could break'. . .
CHRISTIAN:
My nose!. . .
(Every one starts up. Christian balances on his chair.)
CYRANO (in a choked voice):
. . .'My teeth!
Who would break my teeth, and I, imprudent-like,
Was poking. . .'
CHRISTIAN:
My nose!. . .
CYRANO:
'My finger,. . .in the crack
Between the tree and bark! He may prove strong
And rap me. . .'
CHRISTIAN:
Over the nose. . .
CYRANO (wiping his forehead):
. . .'O' th' knuckles! Ay,'
But I cried, 'Forward, Gascon! Duty calls!
On, Cyrano!' And thus I ventured on. . .
When, from the shadow, came. . .
CHRISTIAN:
A crack o' th' nose.
CYRANO:
I parry it—find myself. . .
CHRISTIAN:
Nose to nose. . .
CYRANO (bounding on to him):
Heaven and earth!
(All the Gascons leap up to see, but when he is close to Christian he controls
himself and continues):
. . .With a hundred brawling sots,
Who stank. . .
CHRISTIAN:
A noseful. . .
CYRANO (white, but smiling):
Onions, brandy-cups!
I leapt out, head well down. . .
CHRISTIAN:
Nosing the wind!
CYRANO:
I charge!—gore two, impale one—run him through,
One aims at me—Paf! and I parry. . .
CHRISTIAN:
Pif!
CYRANO (bursting out):
Great God! Out! all of you!
(The cadets rush to the doors.)
FIRST CADET:
The tiger wakes!
CYRANO:
Every man, out! Leave me alone with him!
SECOND CADET:
We shall find him minced fine, minced into hash
In a big pasty!
RAGUENEAU:
I am turning pale,
And curl up, like a napkin, limp and white!
CARBON:
Let us be gone.
ANOTHER:
He will not leave a crumb!
ANOTHER:
I die of fright to think what will pass here!
ANOTHER (shutting door right):
Something too horrible!
(All have gone out by different doors, some by the staircase. Cyrano and
Christian are face to face, looking at each other for a moment.)
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