READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, scenes i–iii |
|
Act I, Scene ii
| The same. Christian, Ligniere, then Ragueneau and Le Bret. |
| CUIGY: |
 Ligniere! |
| BRISSAILLE (laughing): |
| Not drunk as yet? |
| LIGNIERE (aside to Christian): |
| I may introduce you? |
| (Christian nods in assent): |
| Baron de Neuvillette. |
| (Bows.) |
| THE AUDIENCE (applauding as the first luster is lighted and drawn up): |
| Ah! |
| CUIGY (to Brissaille, looking at Christian): |
| 'Tis a pretty fellow! |
| FIRST MARQUIS (who has overheard): |
| Pooh! |
| LIGNIERE (introducing them to Christian): |
| My lords De Cuigy. De Brissaille. . . |
| CHRISTIAN (bowing): |
| Delighted!. . . |
| FIRST MARQUIS (to second): |
| He is not ill to look at, but certes, he is not costumed in the latest mode. |
| LIGNIERE (to Cuigy): |
| This gentleman comes from Touraine. |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| Yes, I have scarce been twenty days in Paris; tomorrow I join the Guards, in |
| the Cadets. |
| FIRST MARQUIS (watching the people who are coming into the boxes): |
| There is the wife of the Chief-Justice. |
| THE BUFFET-GIRL: |
| Oranges, milk. . . |
| THE VIOLINISTS (tuning up): |
| La—la— |
| CUIGY (to Christian, pointing to the hall, which is filling fast): |
| 'Tis crowded. |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| Yes, indeed. |
| FIRST MARQUIS: |
| All the great world! |
| (They recognize and name the different elegantly dressed ladies who enter the |
| boxes, bowing low to them. The ladies send smiles in answer.) |
| SECOND MARQUIS: |
| Madame de Guemenee. |
| CUIGY: |
| Madame de Bois-Dauphin. |
| FIRST MARQUIS: |
| Adored by us all! |
| BRISSAILLE: |
| Madame de Chavigny. . . |
| SECOND MARQUIS: |
| Who sports with our poor hearts!. . . |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Ha! so Monsieur de Corneille has come back from Rouen! |
| THE YOUNG MAN (to his father): |
| Is the Academy here? |
| THE BURGHER: |
| Oh, ay, I see several of them. There is Boudu, Boissat, |
| and Cureau de la Chambre, Porcheres, Colomby, Bourzeys, |
| Bourdon, Arbaud. . .all names that will live! 'Tis fine! |
| FIRST MARQUIS: |
| Attention! Here come our precieuses; Barthenoide, Urimedonte, Cassandace, |
| Felixerie. . . |
| SECOND MARQUIS: |
| Ah! How exquisite their fancy names are! Do you know them all, Marquis? |
| FIRST MARQUIS: |
| Ay, Marquis, I do, every one! |
| LIGNIERE (drawing Christian aside): |
| Friend, I but came here to give you pleasure. The lady comes not. I will |
| betake me again to my pet vice. |
| CHRISTIAN (persuasively): |
| No, no! You, who are ballad-maker to Court and City alike, can tell me |
| better than any who the lady is for whom I die of love. Stay yet awhile. |
| THE FIRST VIOLIN (striking his bow on the desk): |
| Gentlemen violinists! |
| (He raises his bow.) |
| THE BUFFET-GIRL: |
| Macaroons, lemon-drink. . . |
| (The violins begin to play.) |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| Ah! I fear me she is coquettish, and over nice and fastidious! |
| I, who am so poor of wit, how dare I speak to her—how address her? |
| This language that they speak to-day—ay, and write—confounds me; |
| I am but an honest soldier, and timid withal. She has ever her place, |
| there, on the right—the empty box, see you! |
| LIGNIERE (making as if to go): |
| I must go. |
| CHRISTIAN (detaining him): |
| Nay, stay. |
| LIGNIERE: |
| I cannot. D'Assoucy waits me at the tavern, and here one dies of thirst. |
| THE BUFFET-GIRL (passing before him with a tray): |
| Orange drink? |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Ugh! |
| THE BUFFET-GIRL: |
| Milk? |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Pah! |
| THE BUFFET-GIRL: |
| Rivesalte? |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Stay. |
| (To Christian): |
| I will remain awhile.—Let me taste this rivesalte. |
| (He sits by the buffet; the girl pours some out for him.) |
| CRIES (from all the audience, at the entrance of a plump little man, joyously |
| excited): |
| Ah! Ragueneau! |
| LIGNIERE (to Christian): |
| 'Tis the famous tavern-keeper Ragueneau. |
| RAGUENEAU (dressed in the Sunday clothes of a pastry-cook, going up quickly to |
| Ligniere): |
| Sir, have you seen Monsieur de Cyrano? |
| LIGNIERE (introducing him to Christian): |
| The pastry-cook of the actors and the poets! |
| RAGUENEAU (overcome): |
| You do me too great honor. . . |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Nay, hold your peace, Maecenas that you are! |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| True, these gentlemen employ me. . . |
| LIGNIERE: |
| On credit! |
| He is himself a poet of a pretty talent. . . |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| So they tell me. |
| LIGNIERE: |
| —Mad after poetry! |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| 'Tis true that, for a little ode. . . |
| LIGNIERE: |
| You give a tart. . . |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Oh!—a tartlet! |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Brave fellow! He would fain fain excuse himself! |
| —And for a triolet, now, did you not give in exchange. . . |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Some little rolls! |
| LIGNIERE (severely): |
| They were milk-rolls! And as for the theater, which you love? |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Oh! to distraction! |
| LIGNIERE: |
| How pay you your tickets, ha?—with cakes. |
| Your place, to-night, come tell me in my ear, what did it cost you? |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Four custards, and fifteen cream-puffs. |
| (He looks around on all sides): |
| Monsieur de Cyrano is not here? 'Tis strange. |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Why so? |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Montfleury plays! |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Ay, 'tis true that that old wine-barrel is to take Phedon's part to-night; |
| but what matter is that to Cyrano? |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| How? Know you not? He has got a hot hate for Montfleury, and so!—has |
| forbid him strictly to show his face on the stage for one whole month. |
| LIGNIERE (drinking his fourth glass): |
| Well? |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Montfleury will play! |
| CUIGY: |
| He can not hinder that. |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Oh! oh! that I have come to see! |
| FIRST MARQUIS: |
| Who is this Cyrano? |
| CUIGY: |
| A fellow well skilled in all tricks of fence. |
| SECOND MARQUIS: |
| Is he of noble birth? |
| CUIGY: |
| Ay, noble enough. He is a cadet in the Guards. |
| (Pointing to a gentleman who is going up and down the hall as if searching for |
| some one): |
| But 'tis his friend Le Bret, yonder, who can best tell you. |
| (He calls him): |
| Le Bret! |
| (Le Bret comes towards them): |
| Seek you for De Bergerac? |
| LE BRET: |
| Ay, I am uneasy. . . |
| CUIGY: |
| Is it not true that he is the strangest of men? |
| LE BRET (tenderly): |
| True, that he is the choicest of earthly beings! |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| Poet! |
| CUIGY: |
| Soldier! |
| BRISSAILLE: |
| Philosopher! |
| LE BRET: |
| Musician! |
| LIGNIERE: |
| And of how fantastic a presence! |
| RAGENEAU: |
| Marry, 'twould puzzle even our grim painter Philippe de Champaigne to |
| portray him! Methinks, whimsical, wild, comical as he is, only Jacques |
| Callot, now dead and gone, had succeeded better, and had made of him the |
| maddest fighter of all his visored crew—with his triple-plumed beaver and |
| six-pointed doublet—the sword-point sticking up 'neath his mantle like an |
| insolent cocktail! He's prouder than all the fierce Artabans of whom Gascony |
| has ever been and will ever be the prolific Alma Mater! Above his Toby ruff |
| he carries a nose!—ah, good my lords, what a nose is his! When one sees it |
| one is fain to cry aloud, 'Nay! 'tis too much! He plays a joke on us!' Then |
| one laughs, says 'He will anon take it off.' But no!—Monsieur de Bergerac |
| always keeps it on. |
| LE BRET (throwing back his head): |
| He keeps it on—and cleaves in two any man who dares remark on it! |
| RAGUENEAU (proudly): |
| His sword—'tis one half of the Fates' shears! |
| FIRST MARQUIS (shrugging his shoulders): |
| He will not come! |
| RAGUENEAU: |
| I say he will! and I wager a fowl—a la Ragueneau. |
| THE MARQUIS (laughing): |
| Good! |
| (Murmurs of admiration in hall. Roxane has just appeared in her box. She |
| seats herself in front, the duenna at the back. Christian, who is paying the |
| buffet-girl, does not see her entrance.) |
| SECOND MARQUIS (with little cries of joy): |
| Ah, gentlemen! she is fearfully—terribly—ravishing! |
| FIRST MARQUIS: |
| When one looks at her one thinks of a peach smiling at a strawberry! |
| SECOND MARQUIS: |
| And what freshness! A man approaching her too near might chance to get a |
| bad chill at the heart! |
| CHRISTIAN (raising his head, sees Roxane, and catches Ligniere by the arm): |
| 'Tis she! |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Ah! is it she? |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| Ay, tell me quick—I am afraid. |
| LIGNIERE (tasting his rivesalte in sips): |
| Magdaleine Robin—Roxane, so called! A subtle wit—a precieuse. |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| Woe is me! |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Free. An orphan. The cousin of Cyrano, of whom we were now speaking. |
| (At this moment an elegant nobleman, with blue ribbon across his breast, |
| enters the box, and talks with Roxane, standing.) |
| CHRISTIAN (starting): |
| Who is yonder man? |
| LIGNIERE (who is becoming tipsy, winking at him): |
| Ha! ha! Count de Guiche. Enamored of her. But wedded to the niece of |
| Armand de Richelieu. Would fain marry Roxane to a certain sorry fellow, one |
| Monsieur de Valvert, a viscount—and—accommodating! She will none of that |
| bargain; but De Guiche is powerful, and can persecute the daughter of a plain |
| untitled gentleman. More by token, I myself have exposed this cunning plan of |
| his to the world, in a song which. . .Ho! he must rage at me! The end hit |
| home. . .Listen! |
| (He gets up staggering, and raises his glass, ready to sing.) |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| No. Good-night. |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Where go you? |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| To Monsieur de Valvert! |
| LIGNIERE: |
| Have a care! It is he who will kill you |
| (showing him Roxane by a look): |
| Stay where you are—she is looking at you. |
| CHRISTIAN: |
| It is true! |
| (He stands looking at her. The group of pickpockets seeing him thus, head in |
| air and open-mouthed, draw near to him.) |
| LIGNIERE: |
| 'Tis I who am going. I am athirst! And they expect me—in the taverns! |
| (He goes out, reeling.) |
| LE BRET (who has been all round the hall, coming back to Ragueneau reassured): |
| No sign of Cyrano. |
| RAGUENEAU (incredulously): |
| All the same. . . |
| LE BRET: |
| A hope is left to me—that he has not seen the playbill! |
| THE AUDIENCE: |
| Begin, begin! |
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