Scene 1.V.



Cyrano, Le Bret.



CYRANO (to Le Bret):

  Now talk--I listen.

(He stands at the buffet, and placing before him first the macaroon):

  Dinner!. . .

(then the grapes):

  Dessert!. . .

(then the glass of water):

  Wine!. . .

(he seats himself):

  So!  And now to table!

  Ah!  I was hungry, friend, nay, ravenous!

(eating):

  You said--?



LE BRET:

  These fops, would-be belligerent,

  Will, if you heed them only, turn your head!. . .

  Ask people of good sense if you would know

  The effect of your fine insolence--



CYRANO (finishing his macaroon):

  Enormous!



LE BRET:

  The Cardinal. . .



CYRANO (radiant):

  The Cardinal--was there?



LE BRET:

  Must have thought it. . .



CYRANO:

  Original, i' faith!



LE BRET:

  But. . .



CYRANO:

  He's an author.  'Twill not fail to please him

  That I should mar a brother-author's play.



LE BRET:

  You make too many enemies by far!



CYRANO (eating his grapes):

  How many think you I have made to-night?



LE BRET:

  Forty, no less, not counting ladies.



CYRANO:

  Count!



LE BRET:

  Montfleury first, the bourgeois, then De Guiche,

  The Viscount, Baro, the Academy. . .



CYRANO:

  Enough!  I am o'erjoyed!



LE BRET:

  But these strange ways,

  Where will they lead you, at the end?  Explain

  Your system--come!



CYRANO:

  I in a labyrinth

  Was lost--too many different paths to choose;

  I took. . .



LE BRET:

  Which?



CYRANO:

  Oh! by far the simplest path. . .

  Decided to be admirable in all!



LE BRET (shrugging his shoulders):

  So be it!  But the motive of your hate

  To Montfleury--come, tell me!



CYRANO (rising):

  This Silenus,

  Big-bellied, coarse, still deems himself a peril--

  A danger to the love of lovely ladies,

  And, while he sputters out his actor's part,

  Makes sheep's eyes at their boxes--goggling frog!

  I hate him since the evening he presumed

  To raise his eyes to hers. . .Meseemed I saw

  A slug crawl slavering o'er a flower's petals!



LE BRET (stupefied):

  How now?  What?  Can it be. . .?



CYRANO (laughing bitterly):

  That I should love?. . .

(Changing his tone, gravely):

  I love.



LE BRET:

  And may I know?. . .You never said. . .



CYRANO:

  Come now, bethink you!. . .The fond hope to be

  Beloved, e'en by some poor graceless lady,

  Is, by this nose of mine for aye bereft me;

  --This lengthy nose which, go where'er I will,

  Pokes yet a quarter-mile ahead of me;

  But I may love--and who?  'Tis Fate's decree

  I love the fairest--how were't otherwise?



LE BRET:

  The fairest?. . .



CYRANO:

  Ay, the fairest of the world,

  Most brilliant--most refined--most golden-haired!



LE BRET:

  Who is this lady?



CYRANO:

  She's a danger mortal,

  All unsuspicious--full of charms unconscious,

  Like a sweet perfumed rose--a snare of nature,

  Within whose petals Cupid lurks in ambush!

  He who has seen her smile has known perfection,

  --Instilling into trifles grace's essence,

  Divinity in every careless gesture;

  Not Venus' self can mount her conch blown sea-ward,

  As she can step into her chaise a porteurs,

  Nor Dian fleet across the woods spring-flowered,

  Light as my Lady o'er the stones of Paris!. . .



LE BRET:

  Sapristi! all is clear!



CYRANO:

  As spiderwebs!



LE BRET:

  Your cousin, Madeleine Robin?



CYRANO:

  Roxane!



LE BRET:

  Well, but so much the better!  Tell her so!

  She saw your triumph here this very night!



CYRANO:

  Look well at me--then tell me, with what hope

  This vile protuberance can inspire my heart!

  I do not lull me with illusions--yet

  At times I'm weak: in evening hours dim

  I enter some fair pleasance, perfumed sweet;

  With my poor ugly devil of a nose

  I scent spring's essence--in the silver rays

  I see some knight--a lady on his arm,

  And think 'To saunter thus 'neath the moonshine,

  I were fain to have my lady, too, beside!'

  Thought soars to ecstasy. . .O sudden fall!

  --The shadow of my profile on the wall!



LE BRET (tenderly):

  My friend!. . .



CYRANO:

  My friend, at times 'tis hard, 'tis bitter,

  To feel my loneliness--my own ill-favor. . .



LE BRET (taking his hand):

  You weep?



CYRANO:

  No, never!  Think, how vilely suited

  Adown this nose a tear its passage tracing!

  I never will, while of myself I'm master,

  let the divinity of tears--their beauty

  Be wedded to such common ugly grossness.

  Nothing more solemn than a tear--sublimer;

  And I would not by weeping turn to laughter

  The grave emotion that a tear engenders!



LE BRET:

  Never be sad!  What's love?--a chance of Fortune!



CYRANO (shaking his head):

  Look I a Caesar to woo Cleopatra?

  A Tito to aspire to Berenice?



LE BRET:

  Your courage and your wit!--The little maid

  Who offered you refreshment even now,

  Her eyes did not abhor you--you saw well!



CYRANO (impressed):

  True!



LE BRET:

  Well, how then?. . .I saw Roxane herself

  Was death-pale as she watched the duel.



CYRANO:

  Pale?



LE BRET:

  Her heart, her fancy, are already caught!

  Put it to th' touch!



CYRANO:

  That she may mock my face?

  That is the one thing on this earth I fear!



THE PORTER (introducing some one to Cyrano):

  Sir, some one asks for you. . .



CYRANO (seeing the duenna):

  God! her duenna!