Act III, Scene ix
| Cyrano, Christian, Roxane. |
| ROXANE (coming out on the balcony): |
 Still there? |
| We spoke of a. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| A kiss! The word is sweet. |
| I see not why your lip should shrink from it; |
| If the word burns it,—what would the kiss do? |
| Oh! let it not your bashfulness affright; |
| Have you not, all this time, insensibly, |
| Left badinage aside, and unalarmed |
| Glided from smile to sigh,—from sigh to weeping? |
| Glide gently, imperceptibly, still onward— |
| From tear to kiss,—a moment's thrill!—a heartbeat! |
| ROXANE: |
| Hush! hush! |
| CYRANO: |
| A kiss, when all is said,—what is it? |
| An oath that's ratified,—a sealed promise, |
| A heart's avowal claiming confirmation,— |
| A rose-dot on the 'i' of 'adoration,'— |
| A secret that to mouth, not ear, is whispered,— |
| Brush of a bee's wing, that makes time eternal,— |
| Communion perfumed like the spring's wild flowers,— |
| The heart's relieving in the heart's outbreathing, |
| When to the lips the soul's flood rises, brimming! |
| ROXANE: |
| Hush! hush! |
| CYRANO: |
| A kiss, Madame, is honorable: |
| The Queen of France, to a most favored lord |
| Did grant a kiss—the Queen herself! |
| ROXANE: |
| What then? |
| CYRANO (speaking more warmly): |
| Buckingham suffered dumbly,—so have I,— |
| Adored his Queen, as loyally as I,— |
| Was sad, but faithful,—so am I. . . |
| ROXANE: |
| And you |
| Are fair as Buckingham! |
| CYRANO (aside—suddenly cooled): |
| True,—I forgot! |
| ROXANE: |
| Must I then bid thee mount to cull this flower? |
| CYRANO (pushing Christian toward the balcony): |
| Mount! |
| ROXANE: |
| This heart-breathing!. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Mount! |
| ROXANE: |
| This brush of bee's wing!. . . |
| CYRANO: |
| Mount! |
| CHRISTIAN (hesitating): |
| But I feel now, as though 'twere ill done! |
| ROXANE: |
| This moment infinite!. . . |
| CYRANO (still pushing him): |
| Come, blockhead, mount! |
| (Christian springs forward, and by means of the bench, the branches, and the |
| pillars, climbs to the balcony and strides over it.) |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| Ah, Roxane! |
| (He takes her in his arms, and bends over her lips.) |
| CYRANO: |
| Aie! Strange pain that wrings my heart! |
| The kiss, love's feast, so near! I, Lazarus, |
| Lie at the gate in darkness. Yet to me |
| Falls still a crumb or two from the rich man's board— |
| Ay, 'tis my heart receives thee, Roxane—mine! |
| For on the lips you press you kiss as well |
| The words I spoke just now!—my words—my words! |
| (The lutes play): |
| A sad air,—a gay air: the monk! |
| (He begins to run as if he came from a long way off, and cries out): |
| Hola! |
| ROXANE: |
| Who is it? |
| CYRANO: |
| I—I was but passing by. . . |
| Is Christian there? |
| CHRISTIAN (astonished): |
| Cyrano! |
| ROXANE: |
| Good-day, cousin! |
| CYRANO: |
| Cousin, good-day! |
| ROXANE: |
| I'm coming! |
| (She disappears into the house. At the back re-enter the friar.) |
| CHRISTIAN (seeing him): |
| Back again! |
| (He follows Roxane.) |
|
|
||||
|
