READ STUDY GUIDE: Act V, scenes i-vi |
|
Act V, Scene ii
| Roxane; the Duke de Grammont, formerly Count de Guiche. Then Le Bret and |
| Ragueneau. |
| 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. |
| (Another pause.) |
| 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.) |
|
|
||||
|
