Scene 2.V.



Cyrano, Roxane, the duenna.



CYRANO:

  Ah! if I see but the faint glimmer of hope, then I draw out my letter!

(Roxane, masked, followed by the duenna, appears at the glass pane of the

door.  He opens quickly):

  Enter!. . .

(Walking up to the duenna):

  Two words with you, Duenna.



THE DUENNA:

  Four, Sir, an it like you.



CYRANO:

  Are you fond of sweet things?



THE DUENNA:

  Ay, I could eat myself sick on them!



CYRANO (catching up some of the paper bags from the counter):

  Good.  See you these two sonnets of Monsieur Beuserade. . .



THE DUENNA:

  Hey?



CYRANO:

  . . .Which I fill for you with cream cakes!



THE DUENNA (changing her expression):

  Ha.



CYRANO:

  What say you to the cake they call a little puff?



THE DUENNA:

  If made with cream, Sir, I love them passing well.



CYRANO:

  Here I plunge six for your eating into the bosom of a poem by Saint Amant! 

And in these verses of Chapelain I glide a lighter morsel.  Stay, love you hot

cakes? 



THE DUENNA:

  Ay, to the core of my heart!



CYRANO (filling her arms with the bags):

  Pleasure me then; go eat them all in the street.



THE DUENNA:

  But. . .



CYRANO (pushing her out):

  And come not back till the very last crumb be eaten!



(He shuts the door, comes down toward Roxane, and, uncovering, stands at a

respectful distance from her.)