Fifteen years later, in 1655: The Park of the Convent occupied by the Ladies of the Cross, at Paris.
Magnificent foliage. To the Left, the House upon a broad Terrace at the head of a flight of steps, with several Doors opening upon the Terrace. In the centre of the scene an enormous Tree alone in the centre of a little open space. Toward the Right, in the foreground, among Boxwood Bushes, a semicircular Bench of stone.
All the way across the Background of the scene, an Avenue overarched by the chestnut trees, leading to the door of a Chapel on the Right, just visible among the branches of the trees. Beyond the double curtain of the trees, we catch a glimpse of bright lawns and shaded walks, masses of shrubbery; the perspective of the Park; the sky.
A little side door of the Chapel opens upon a Colonnade, garlanded with Autumnal vines, and disappearing on the Right behind the box-trees.
It is late October. Above the still living green of the turf all the foliage is red and yellow and brown. The evergreen masses of Box and Yew stand out darkly against this Autumnal coloring. A heap of dead leaves under every tree. The leaves are falling everywhere. They rustle underfoot along the walks; the Terrace and the Bench are half covered with them.
Before the Bench on the Right, on the side toward the Tree, is placed a tall embroidery frame and beside it a little Chair. Baskets filled with skeins of many-colored silks and balls of wool. Tapestry unfinished on the Frame.
At the Curtain Rise the nuns are coming and going across the Park; several of them are seated on the Bench around Mother Marguérite de Jesus. The leaves are falling.
Sister Marthe
(To Mother Marguérite)
Sister Claire has been looking in the glass
At her new cap; twice!
Mother Marguérite
(To Sister Claire)
It is very plain;
Very.
Sister Claire
And Sister Marthe stole a plum
Out of the tart this morning!
Mother Marguérite
(To Sister Marthe)
That was wrong;
Very wrong.
Sister Claire
Oh, but such a little look!
Sister Marthe
Such a little plum!
Mother Marguérite
(Severely)
I shall tell Monsieur
De Cyrano, this evening.
Sister Claire
No! Oh, no!—
He will make fun of us.
Sister Marthe
He will say nuns
Are so gay!
Sister Claire
And so greedy!
Mother Marguérite
(Smiling)
And so good ...
Sister Claire
It must be ten years, Mother Marguérite,
That he has come here every Saturday,
Is it not?
Mother Marguérite
More than ten years; ever since
His cousin came to live among us here—
Her worldly weeds among our linen veils,
Her widowhood and our virginity—
Like a black dove among white doves.
Sister Marthe
No one
Else ever turns that happy sorrow of hers
Into a smile.
All the Nuns
He is such fun!—He makes us
Almost laugh!—And he teases everyone—
And pleases everyone— And we all love him—
And he likes our cake, too—
Sister Marthe
I am afraid
He is not a good Catholic.
Sister Claire
Some day
We shall convert him.
The Nuns
Yes—yes!
Mother Marguérite
Let him be;
I forbid you to worry him. Perhaps
He might stop coming here.
Sister Marthe
But... God?
Mother Marguérite
You need not
Be afraid. God knows all about him.
Sister Marthe
Yes ...
But every Saturday he says to me,
Just as if he were proud of it: "Well, Sister,
I ate meat yesterday!"
Mother Marguérite
He tells you so?
The last time he said that, he had not eaten
Anything, for two days.
Sister Marthe
Mother!—
Mother Marguérite
He is poor;
Very poor.
Sister Marthe
Who said so?
Mother Marguérite
Monsieur Le Bret.
Sister Marthe
Why does not someone help him?
Mother Marguérite
He would be
Angry; very angry ...
(Between the trees up stage, Roxane appears, all in black, with a widow's cap and long veils. De Guiche, magnificently grown old, walks beside her. They move slowly. Mother Marguérite rises.)
Let us go in—
Madame Madeleine has a visitor.
Sister Marthe
(To Sister Claire)
The Duc de Grammont, is it not? The Marshal?
Sister Claire
(Looks toward De Guiche.)
I think so—yes.
Sister Marthe
He has not been to see her
For months—
The Nuns
He is busy—the Court!—the Camp!—
Sister Claire
The world! ...
(They go out. De Guiche and Roxane come down in silence, and stop near the embroidery frame. Pause.)
de Guiche
And you remain here, wasting all that gold—
For ever in mourning?
Roxane
For ever.
de Guiche
And still faithful?
Roxane
And still faithful...
de Guiche
(After a pause)
Have you forgiven me?
Roxane
(Simply, looking up at the cross of the Convent)
I am here.
(Another pause)
de Guiche
Was Christian ... all that?
Roxane
If you knew him.
de Guiche
Ah? We were not precisely ... intimate ...
And his last letter—always at your heart?
Roxane
It hangs here, like a holy reliquary.
de Guiche
Dead—and you love him still!
Roxane
Sometimes I think
He has not altogether died; our hearts
Meet, and his love flows all around me, living.
de Guiche
(After another pause)
You see Cyrano often?
Roxane
Every week.
My old friend takes the place of my Gazette,
Brings me all the news. Every Saturday,
Under that tree where you are now, his chair
Stands, if the day be fine. I wait for him,
Embroidering; the hour strikes; then I hear,
(I need not turn to look!) at the last stroke,
His cane tapping the steps. He laughs at me
For my eternal needlework. He tells
The story of the past week—
(Le Bret appears on the steps.)
There's Le Bret!—
(Le Bret approaches.)
How is it with our friend?
Le Bret
Badly.
de Guiche
Indeed?
Roxane
(To De Guiche)
Oh, he exaggerates!
Le Bret
Just as I said—
Loneliness, misery—I told him so!—
His satires make a host of enemies—
He attacks the false nobles, the false saints,
The false heroes, the false artists—in short,
Everyone!
Roxane
But they fear that sword of his—
No one dare touch him!
de Guiche
(With a shrug)
H'm—that may be so.
Le Bret
It is not violence I fear for him,
But solitude—poverty—old gray December,
Stealing on wolf's feet, with a wolf's green eyes,
Into his darkening room. Those bravoes yet
May strike our Swordsman down! Every day now,
He draws his belt up one hole; his poor nose
Looks like old ivory; he has one coat
Left—his old black serge.
de Guiche
That is nothing strange
In this world! No, you need not pity him
Overmuch.
Le Bret
(With a bitter smile)
My lord Marshal! ...
de Guiche
I say, do not
Pity him overmuch. He lives his life,
His own life, his own way—thought, word, and deed
Free!
Le Bret
(As before)
My lord Duke! ...
de Guiche
(Haughtily)
Yes, I know—I have all;
He has nothing. Nevertheless, to-day
I should be proud to shake his hand ...
(Saluting Roxane.)
Adieu.
Roxane
I will go with you.
(De Guiche salutes Le Bret, and turns with Roxane toward the steps.)
de Guiche
(Pauses on the steps, as she climbs.)
Yes— I envy him
Now and then ...
Do you know, when a man wins
Everything in this world, when he succeeds
Too much—he feels, having done nothing wrong
Especially, Heaven knows!—he feels somehow
A thousand small displeasures with himself,
Whose whole sum is not quite Remorse, but rather
A sort of vague disgust ... The ducal robes
Mounting up, step by step, to pride and power,
Somewhere among their folds draw after them
A rustle of dry illusions, vain regrets,
As your veil, up the stairs here, draws along
The whisper of dead leaves.
Roxane
(Ironical)
The sentiment
Does you honor.
de Guiche
Oh, yes ...
(Pausing suddenly.)
Monsieur Le Bret!—
(To Roxane)
You pardon us?—
(He goes to Le Bret, and speaks in a low tone.)
One moment— It is true
That no one dares attack your friend. Some people
Dislike him, none the less. The other day
At Court, such a one said to me: "This man
Cyrano may die—accidentally."
Le Bret
(Coldly)
Thank you.
de Guiche
You may thank me. Keep him at home
All you can. Tell him to be careful.
Le Bret
(Shaking his hands to heaven.)
Careful!—
He is coming here. I'll warn him—yes, but I ...
Roxane
(Still on the steps, to a Nun who approaches her)
Here
I am—what is it?
The Nun
Madame, Ragueneau
Wishes to see you.
Roxane
Bring him here.
(To Le Bret and De Guiche)
He comes
For sympathy—having been first of all
A Poet, he became since then, in turn,
A Singer—
Le Bret
Bath-house keeper—
Roxane
Sacristan—
Le Bret
Actor—
Roxane
Hairdresser—
Le Bret
Music-master—
Roxane
Now,
To-day—
Ragueneau
(Enters hurriedly.)
Madame!—
(He sees Le Bret.)
Monsieur!—
Roxane
(Smiling)
First tell your troubles
To Le Bret for a moment.
Ragueneau
But Madame—
(She goes out, with De Guiche, not hearing him. Ragueneau comes to Le Bret.)
After all, I had rather— You are here—
She need not know so soon— I went to see him
Just now— Our friend— As I came near his door,
I saw him coming out I hurried on
To join him. At the corner of the street,
As he passed— Could it be an accident?—
I wonder!—At the window overhead,
A lackey with a heavy log of wood
Let it fall—
Le Bret
Cyrano!
Ragueneau
I ran to him—
Le Bret
God! The cowards!
Ragueneau
I found him lying there—
A great hole in his head—
Le Bret
Is he alive?
Ragueneau
Alive—yes. But... I had to carry him
Up to his room—Dieu! Have you seen his room?—
Le Bret
Is he suffering?
Ragueneau
No; unconscious.
Le Bret
Did you
Call a doctor?
Ragueneau
One came—for charity.
Le Bret
Poor Cyrano!—We must not tell Roxane
All at once ... Did the doctor say?—
Ragueneau
He said
Fever, and lesions of the— I forget
Those long names— Ah, if you had seen him there,
His head all white bandages!—Let us go
Quickly—there is no one to care for him—
All alone— If he tries to raise his head,
He may die!
Le Bret
(Draws him away to the Right,)
This way— It is shorter—through
The Chapel—
Roxane
(Appears on the stairway, and calls to Le -Bret as he is going out by the colonnade which leads to the small door of the Chapel.)
Monsieur Le Bret!—
(Le Bret and Ragueneau rush off without hearing.)
Running away
When I call to him? Poor dear Ragueneau
Must have been very tragic!
(She comes slowly down the stair, toward the tree.)
What a day! ...
Something in these bright Autumn afternoons
Happy and yet regretful—an old sorrow
Smiling ... as though poor little April dried
Her tears long ago—and remembered ...
(She sits down at her work. Two Nuns come out of the house carrying a great chair and set it under the tree.)
Ah—
The old chair, for my old friend!—
Sister Marthe
The best one
In our best parlor!—
Roxane
Thank you, Sister—
(The Nuns withdraw.)
There—
(She begins embroidering. The clock strikes.)
The hour!—He will be coming now—my silks—
All done striking? He never was so late
Before! The sister at the door—my thimble ...
Here it is—she must be exhorting him
To repent all his sins ...
(A pause)
He ought to be
Converted, by this time— Another leaf—
(A dead leaf falls on her work; she brushes it away.)
Certainly nothing could—my scissors—ever
Keep him away—
A Nun
(Appears on the steps.)
Monsieur de Bergerac.
Roxane
(Without turning)
What was I saying? ... Hard, sometimes, to match
These faded colors! ...
(While she goes on working, Cyrano appears at the top of the steps, very pale, his hat drawn over his eyes. The Nun who has brought him in goes away. He begins to descend the steps leaning on his cane, and holding himself on his feet only by an evident effort. Roxane turns to him, with a tone of friendly banter.)
After fourteen years,
Late—for the first time!
Cyrano
(Reaches the chair, and sinks into it; his gay tone contrasting with his tortured face.)
Yes, yes—maddening!
I was detained by—
Roxane
Well?
Cyrano
A visitor,
Most unexpected.
Roxane
(Carelessly, still sewing)
Was your visitor
Tiresome?
Cyrano
Why, hardly that—inopportune,
Let us say—an old friend of mine—at least
A very old acquaintance.
Roxane
Did you tell him
To go away?
Cyrano
For the time being, yes.
I said: "Excuse me—this is Saturday—
I have a previous engagement, one
I cannot miss, even for you— Come back
An hour from now."
Roxane
Your friend will have to wait;
I shall not let you go till dark.
Cyrano
(Very gently)
Perhaps
A little before dark, I must go ...
(He leans back in the chair, and closes his eyes. Sister Marthe crosses above the stairway. Roxane sees her, motions her to wait, then turns to Cyrano.)
Roxane
Look—
Somebody waiting to be teased.
Cyrano
(Quickly, opens his eyes.)
Of course!
(In a big, comic voice)
Sister, approach!
(Sister Marthe glides toward him.)
Beautiful downcast eyes!—
So shy—
Sister Marthe
(Looks up, smiling.)
You—
(She sees his face.)
Oh!—
Cyrano
(Indicates Roxane.)
Sh!—Careful!
(Resumes his burlesque tone.)
Yesterday,
I ate meat again!
Sister Marthe
Yes, I know.
(Aside)
That is why
He looks so pale ...
(To him: low and quickly)
In the refectory,
Before you go—come to me there—
I'll make you
A great bowl of hot soup—will you come?
Cyrano
(Boisterously)
Ah—
Will I come!
Sister Marthe
You are quite reasonable
To-day!
Roxane
Has she converted you?
Sister Marthe
Oh, no—
Not for the world!—
Cyrano
Why, now I think of it,
That is so— You, bursting with holiness,
And yet you never preach! Astonishing
I call it ...
(With burlesque ferocity)
Ah—now I'll astonish you—
I am going to—
(With the air of seeking for a good joke and finding it)
—let you pray for me
To-night, at vespers!
Roxane
Aha!
Cyrano
Look at her—
Absolutely struck dumb!
Sister Marthe
(Gently)
I did not wait
For you to say I might.
(She goes out.)
Cyrano
(Returns to Roxane, who is bending over her work.)
Now, may the devil
Admire me, if I ever hope to see
The end of that embroidery!
Roxane
(Smiling)
I thought
It was time you said that.
(A breath of wind causes a few leaves to fall.)
Cyrano
The leaves—
Roxane
(Raises her head and looks away through the trees.)
What color—
Perfect Venetian red! Look at them fall.
Cyrano
Yes—they know how to die. A little way
From the branch to the earth, a little fear
Of mingling with the common dust—and yet
They go down gracefully—a fail that seems
Like flying!
Roxane
Melancholy—you?
Cyrano
Why, no,
Roxane!
Roxane
Then let the leaves fall. Tell me now
The Court news—my gazette!
Cyrano
Let me see—
Roxane
Ah!
Cyrano
(More and more pale, struggling against pain)
Saturday, the nineteenth; the King fell ill,
After eight helpings of grape marmalade.
His malady was brought before the court,
Found guilty of high treason; whereupon
His Majesty revived. The royal pulse
Is now normal. Sunday, the twentieth:
The Queen gave a grand ball, at which they burned
Seven hundred and sixty-three wax candles. Note:
They say our troops have been victorious
In Austria. Later: Three sorcerers
Have been hung. Special post: The little dog
Of Madame d'Athis was obliged to take
Four pills before—
Roxane
Monsieur de Bergerac,
Will you kindly be quiet!
Cyrano
Monday ... nothing.
Lygdamire has a new lover.
Roxane
Oh!
Cyrano
(His face more and more altered)
Tuesday,
The Twenty-second: All the court has gone
To Fontainebleau. Wednesday: The Comte de Fiesque
Spoke to Madame de Montglat; she said No.
Thursday: Mancini was the Queen of France
Or—very nearly! Friday: La Montglat
Said Yes. Saturday, twenty-sixth....
(His eyes close; his head sinks back; silence.)
Roxane
(Surprised at not bearing any more, turns, looks at him, and rises, frightened.)
He has fainted—
(She runs to him, crying out.)
Cyrano!
Cyrano
(Opens his eyes.)
What ... What is it? ...
(He sees Roxane leaning over him, and quickly pulls his hat down over his head and leans back away from her in the chair.)
No—oh no—
It is nothing—truly!
Roxane
But—
Cyrano
My old wound—
At Arras—sometimes—you know.
Roxane
My poor friend!
Cyrano
Oh it is nothing; it will soon be gone....
(Forcing a smile)
There! It is gone!
Roxane
(Standing close to him)
We all have our old wounds—
I have mine—here ...
(Her hand at her breast)
under this faded scrap
Of writing.... It is hard to read now—all
But the blood—and the tears....
(Twilight begins to fall.)
Cyrano
His letter! ... Did you
Not promise me that some day ... that some day....
You would let me read it?
Roxane
His letter?—You ...
You wish—
Cyrano
I do wish it—to-day.
Roxane
(Gives him the little silken bag from around her neck.)
Here....
Cyrano
May I ... open it?
Roxane
Open it, and read.
(She goes back to her work, folds it again, rearranges her silks.)
Cyrano
(Unfolds the letter; reads.)
"Farewell Roxane, because to-day I die—"
Roxane
(Looks up, surprised.)
Aloud?
Cyrano
(Reads)
"I know that it will be to-day,
My own dearly beloved—and my heart
Still so heavy with love I have not told,
And I die without telling you! No more
Shall my eyes drink the sight of you like wine,
Never more, with a look that is a kiss,
Follow the sweet grace of you— "
Roxane
How you read it—
His letter!
Cyrano
(Continues)
"I remember now the way
You have, of pushing back a lock of hair
With one hand, from your forehead—and my heart
Cries out—"
Roxane
His letter ... and you read it so ...
(The darkness increases imperceptibly.)
Cyrano
"Cries out and keeps crying: 'Farewell, my dear,
My dearest—'"
Roxane
In a voice....
Cyrano
"—My own heart's own,
My own treasure—"
Roxane
(Dreamily)
In such a voice, ...
Cyrano
—"My love—"
Roxane
—As I remember hearing ...
(She trembles.)
—long ago....
(She comes near him, softly, without his seeing her; passes the chair, leans over silently, looking at the letter. The darkness increases.)
Cyrano
"—I am never away from you. Even now,
I shall not leave you. In another world,
I shall be still that one who loves you, loves you
Beyond measure, beyond— "
Roxane
(Lays her hand on his shoulder.)
How can you read
Now? It is dark....
(He starts, turns, and sees her there close to him. A little movement of surprise, almost of fear; then he bows his head. A long pause; then in the twilight now completely fallen, she says very softly, clasping her hands)
And all these fourteen years,
He has been the old friend, who came to me
To be amusing.
Cyrano
Roxane!—
Roxane
It was you.
Cyrano
No, no, Roxane, no!
Roxane
And I might have known,
Every time that I heard you speak my name! ...
Cyrano
No— It was not I—
Roxane
It was ... you!
Cyrano
I swear—
Roxane
I understand everything now: The letters—
That was you ...
Cyrano
No!
Roxane
And the dear, foolish words—
That was you...
Cyrano
No!
Roxane
And the voice ... in the dark....
That was ... you!
Cyrano
On my honor—
Roxane
And ... the Soul!—
That was all you.
Cyrano
I never loved you—
Roxane
Yes,
You loved me.
Cyrano
(Desperately)
No— He loved you—
Roxane
Even now,
You love me!
Cyrano
(His voice weakens.)
No!
Roxane
(Smiling)
And why ... so great a "No"?
Cyrano
No, no, my own dear love, I love you not! ...
(Pause)
Roxane
How many things have died ... and are newborn! ...
Why were you silent for so many years,
All the while, every night and every day,
He gave me nothing—you knew that— You knew
Here, in this letter lying on my breast,
Your tears— You knew they were your tears—
Cyrano
(Holds the letter out to her.)
The blood
Was his.
Roxane
Why do you break that silence now,
To-day?
Cyrano
Why? Oh, because—
(Le Bret and Ragueneau enter, running.)
Le Bret
What recklessness—
I knew it! He is here!
Cyrano
(Smiling, and trying to rise)
Well? Here I am!
Ragueneau
He has killed himself, Madame, coming here!
Roxane
He— Oh, God.... And that faintness ... was that?—
Cyrano
No,
Nothing! I did not finish my Gazette—
Saturday, twenty-sixth: An hour or so
Before dinner, Monsieur de Bergerac
Died, foully murdered.
(He uncovers his head, and shows it swathed in bandages.)
Roxane
Oh, what does he mean?—
Cyrano!— What have they done to you?—
Cyrano
"Struck down
By the sword of a hero, let me fall—
Steel in my heart, and laughter on my lips!"
Yes, I said that once. How Fate loves a jest!—
Behold me ambushed—taken in the rear—
My battlefield a gutter—my noble foe
A lackey, with a log of wood! ...
It seems
Too logical— I have missed everything,
Even my death!
Ragueneau
(Breaks down.)
Ah, monsieur!—
Cyrano
Ragueneau,
Stop blubbering!
(Takes his hand.)
What are you writing nowadays,
Old poet?
Ragueneau
(Through his tears)
I am not a poet now;
I snuff the—light the candles—for Molière!
Cyrano
Oh—Molière!
Ragueneau
Yes, but I am leaving him
To-morrow. Yesterday they played "Scapin"—
He has stolen your scene—
Le Bret
The whole scene—word for word!
Ragueneau
Yes: "What the devil was he doing there"—
That one!
Le Bret
(Furious)
And Molière stole it all from you—
Bodily!—
Cyrano
Bah— He showed good taste....
(To Ragueneau)
The Scene
Went well? ...
Ragueneau
Ah, monsieur, they laughed—and laughed—
How they did laugh!
Cyrano
Yes—that has been my life....
Do you remember that night Christian spoke
Under your window? It was always so!
While I stood in the darkness underneath,
Others climbed up to win the applause—the kiss!—
Well—that seems only justice— I still say,
Even now, on the threshold of my tomb—
"Molière has genius—Christian had good looks—"
(The chapel bell is ringing. Along the avenue of trees above the stairway, the Nuns pass in procession to their prayers.)
They are going to pray now; there is the bell.
Roxane
(Raises herself and calls to them)
Sister!—Sister!—
Cyrano
(Holding on to her hand)
No,—do not go away—
I may not still be here when you return....
(The Nuns have gone into the chapel. The organ begins to play.)
A little harmony is all I need—
Listen....
Roxane
You shall not die! I love you!—
Cyrano
No—
That is not in the story! You remember
When Beauty said "I love you" to the Beast
That was a fairy prince, his ugliness
Changed and dissolved, like magic.... But you see
I am still the same.
Roxane
And I—I have done
This to you! All my fault—mine!
Cyrano
You? Why no,
On the contrary! I had never known
Womanhood and its sweetness but for you.
My mother did not love to look at me—
I never had a sister— Later on,
I feared the mistress with a mockery
Behind her smile. But you—because of you
I have had one friend not quite all a friend—
Across my life, one whispering silken gown! ...
Le Bret
(Points to the rising moon which begins to shine down between the trees.)
Your other friend is looking at you.
Cyrano
(Smiling at the moon)
I see....
Roxane
I never loved but one man in my life,
And I have lost him—twice....
Cyrano
Le Bret—I shall be up there presently
In the moon—without having to invent
Any flying machines!
Roxane
What are you saying? ...
Cyrano
The moon—yes, that would be the place for me—
My kind of paradise! I shall find there
Those other souls who should be friends of mine—
Socrates—Galileo—
Le Bret
(Revolting)
No! No! No!
It is too idiotic—too unfair—
Such a friend—such a poet—such a man
To die so—to die so!—
Cyrano
(Affectionately)
There goes Le Bret,
Growling!
Le Bret
(Breaks down.)
My friend!—
Cyrano
(Half raises himself, his eye wanders.)
The Cadets of Gascoyne,
The Defenders.... The elementary mass—
Ah—there's the point! Now, then ...
Le Bret
Delirious—
And all that learning—
Cyrano
On the other hand,
We have Copernicus—
Roxane
Oh!
Cyrano
(More and more delirious)
"Very well,
But what the devil was he doing there?—
What the devil was he doing there, up there?" ...
(He declaims)
Philosopher and scientist,
Poet, musician, duellist—
He flew high, and fell back again!
A pretty wit—whose like we lack—
A lover ... not like other men, ...
Here lies Hercule-Savinien
De Cyrano de Bergerac—
Who was all things—and all in vain!
Well, I must go—pardon— I cannot stay!
My moonbeam comes to carry me away....
(He falls back into the chair, half fainting. The sobbing of Roxane recalls him to reality. Gradually his mind comes back to him. He looks at her, stroking the veil that hides her hair.)
I would not have you mourn any the less
That good, brave, noble Christian; but perhaps—
I ask you only this—when the great cold
Gathers around my bones, that you may give
A double meaning to your widow's weeds
And the tears you let fall for him may be
For a little—my tears....
Roxane
(Sobbing)
Oh, my love! ...
Cyrano
(Suddenly shaken as with a fever fit, he raises himself erect and pushes her away.)
—Not here!—
Not lying down! ...
(They spring forward to help him; he motions them back.)
Let no one help me—no one!—
Only the tree....
(He sets his back against the trunk. Pause.)
It is coming ... I feel
Already shod with marble ... gloved with lead ...
(Joyously)
Let the old fellow come now! He shall find me
On my feet—sword in hand—
(Draws his sword.)
Le Bret
Cyrano!—
Roxane
(Half fainting)
Oh,
Cyrano!
Cyrano
I can see him there—he grins—
He is looking at my nose—that skeleton —
What's that you say? Hopeless?—Why, very well!—
But a man does not fight merely to win!
No—no—better to know one fights in vain! ...
You there— Who are you? A hundred against one—
I know them now, my ancient enemies—
(He lunges at the empty air.)
Falsehood! ... There! There! Prejudice— Compromise—
Cowardice—
(Thrusting)
What's that? No! Surrender? No!
Never—never! ...
Ah, you too, Vanity!
I knew you would overthrow me in the end—
No! I fight on! I fight on! I fight on!
(He swings the blade in great circles, then pauses, gasping. When he speaks again, it is in another tone.)
Yes, all my laurels you have riven away
And all my roses; yet in spite of you,
There is one crown I bear away with me,
And to-night, when I enter before God,
My salute shall sweep all the stars away
From the blue threshold! One thing without stain,
Unspotted from the world, in spite of doom
Mine own!—
(He springs forward, his sword aloft.)
And that is ...
(The sword escapes from his hand; he totters, and falls into the arms of Le Bret and Ragueneau .)
Roxane
(Bends over him and kisses him on the forehead.)
—That is ...
Cyrano
(Opens his eyes and smiles up at her.)
My white plume....
(Curtain)
THE END