Act V, Scene ii | THE DUKE: |  And you stay here still—ever vainly fair, | | Ever in weeds? |
| ROXANE: | | Ever. |
| THE DUKE: | | Still faithful? |
| ROXANE: | | Still. |
| THE DUKE (after a pause): | | Am I forgiven? |
| ROXANE: | | Ay, since I am here. |
| THE DUKE: | | His was a soul, you say?. . . |
| ROXANE: | | Ah!—when you knew him! |
| THE DUKE: | | Ah, may be!. . .I, perchance, too little knew him! | | . . .And his last letter, ever next your heart? |
| ROXANE: | | Hung from this chain, a gentle scapulary. |
| THE DUKE: | | And, dead, you love him still? |
| ROXANE: | | At times,—meseems | | He is but partly dead—our hearts still speak, | | As if his love, still living, wrapped me round! |
| THE DUKE (after another pause): | | Cyrano comes to see you? |
| ROXANE: | | Often, ay. | | Dear, kind old friend! We call him my 'Gazette.' | | He never fails to come: beneath this tree | | They place his chair, if it be fine:—I wait, | | I broider;—the clock strikes;—at the last stroke | | I hear,—for now I never turn to look— | | Too sure to hear his cane tap down the steps; | | He seats himself:—with gentle raillery | | He mocks my tapestry that's never done; | | He tells me all the gossip of the week. . . | | (Le Bret appears on the steps): | | Why, here's Le Bret! | | (Le Bret descends): | | How goes it with our friend? |
| LE BRET: | | Ill!—very ill. |
| THE DUKE: | | How? |
| ROXANE (to the Duke): | | He exaggerates! |
| LE BRET: | | All that I prophesied: desertion, want!. . . | | His letters now make him fresh enemies!— | | Attacking the sham nobles, sham devout, | | Sham brave,—the thieving authors,—all the world! |
| ROXANE: | | Ah! but his sword still holds them all in check; | | None get the better of him. |
| THE DUKE (shaking his head): | | Time will show! |
| LE BRET: | | Ah, but I fear for him—not man's attack,— | | Solitude—hunger—cold December days, | | That wolf-like steal into his chamber drear:— | | Lo! the assassins that I fear for him! | | Each day he tightens by one hole his belt: | | That poor nose—tinted like old ivory: | | He has retained one shabby suit of serge. |
| THE DUKE: | | Ay, there is one who has no prize of Fortune!— | | Yet is not to be pitied! |
| LE BRET (with a bitter smile): | | My Lord Marshal!. . . |
| THE DUKE: | | Pity him not! He has lived out his vows, | | Free in his thoughts, as in his actions free! |
| LE BRET (in the same tone): | | My Lord!. . . |
| THE DUKE (haughtily): | | True! I have all, and he has naught;. . . | | Yet I were proud to take his hand! | | (Bowing to Roxane): | | Adieu! |
| ROXANE: | | I go with you. |
| (The Duke bows to Le Bret, and goes with Roxane toward the steps.) |
| THE DUKE (pausing, while she goes up): | | Ay, true,—I envy him. | | Look you, when life is brimful of success | | —Though the past hold no action foul—one feels | | A thousand self-disgusts, of which the sum | | Is not remorse, but a dim, vague unrest; | | And, as one mounts the steps of worldly fame, | | The Duke's furred mantles trail within their folds | | A sound of dead illusions, vain regrets, | | A rustle—scarce a whisper—like as when, | | Mounting the terrace steps, by your mourning robe | | Sweeps in its train the dying autumn leaves. |
| ROXANE (ironically): | | You are pensive? |
| THE DUKE: | | True! I am! | | (As he is going out, suddenly): | | Monsieur Le Bret! | | (To Roxane): | | A word, with your permission? | | (He goes to Le Bret, and in a low voice): | | True, that none | | Dare to attack your friend;—but many hate him; | | Yesterday, at the Queen's card-play, 'twas said | | 'That Cyrano may die—by accident!' | | Let him stay in—be prudent! |
| LE BRET (raising his arms to heaven): | | Prudent! He!. . . | | He's coming here. I'll warn him—but!. . . |
| ROXANE (who has stayed on the steps, to a sister who comes toward her): | | What is it? |
| THE SISTER: | | Ragueneau would see you, Madame. |
| ROXANE: | | Let him come. | | (To the Duke and Le Bret): | | He comes to tell his troubles. Having been | | An author (save the mark!)—poor fellow—now | | By turns he's singer. . . |
| LE BRET: | | Bathing-man. . . |
| ROXANE: | | Then actor. . . |
| LE BRET: | | Beadle. . . |
| ROXANE: | | Wig-maker. . . |
| LE BRET: | | Teacher of the lute. . . |
| ROXANE: | | What will he be to-day, by chance? |
| RAGUENEAU (entering hurriedly): | | Ah! Madame! | | (He sees Le Bret): | | Ah! you here, Sir! |
| ROXANE (smiling): | | Tell all your miseries | | To him; I will return anon. |
| RAGUENEAU: | | But, Madame. . . |
| (Roxane goes out with the Duke. Ragueneau goes toward Le Bret.) |
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