Cyrano de Bergerac [46]
matter? Hark! another shot!
(She goes up to look outside.)
CYRANO: It is too late, now I can never tell!
ROXANE (trying to rush out): What has chanced?
CYRANO (rushing to stop her): Nothing!
(Some cadets enter, trying to hide something they are carrying, and close round it to prevent Roxane approaching.)
ROXANE: And those men? (Cyrano draws her away): What were you just about to say before. . .?
CYRANO: What was I saying? Nothing now, I swear! (Solemnly): I swear that Christian's soul, his nature, were. . . (Hastily correcting himself): Nay, that they are, the noblest, greatest. . .
ROXANE: Were? (With a loud scream): Oh!
(She rushes up, pushing every one aside.)
CYRANO: All is over now!
ROXANE (seeing Christian lying on the ground, wrapped in his cloak): O Christian!
LE BRET (to Cyrano): Struck by first shot of the enemy!
(Roxane flings herself down by Christian. Fresh reports of cannon--clash of arms--clamor--beating of drums.)
CARBON (with sword in the air): O come! Your muskets.
(Followed by the cadets, he passes to the other side of the ramparts.)
ROXANE: Christian!
THE VOICE OF CARBON (from the other side): Ho! make haste!
ROXANE: Christian!
CARBON: FORM LINE!
ROXANE: Christian!
CARBON: HANDLE YOUR MATCH!
(Ragueneau rushes up, bringing water in a helmet.)
CHRISTIAN (in a dying voice): Roxane!
CYRANO (quickly, whispering into Christian's ear, while Roxane distractedly tears a piece of linen from his breast, which she dips into the water, trying to stanch the bleeding): I told her all. She loves you still.
(Christian closes his eyes.)
ROXANE: How, my sweet love?
CARBON: DRAW RAMRODS!
ROXANE (to Cyrano): He is not dead?
CARBON: OPEN YOUR CHARGES WITH YOUR TEETH!
ROXANE: His cheek Grows cold against my own!
CARBON: READY! PRESENT!
ROXANE (seeing a letter in Christian's doublet): A letter!. . . 'Tis for me!
(She opens it.)
CYRANO (aside): My letter!
CARBON: FIRE!
(Musket reports--shouts--noise of battle.)
CYRANO (trying to disengage his hand, which Roxane on her knees is holding): But, Roxane, hark, they fight!
ROXANE (detaining him): Stay yet awhile. For he is dead. You knew him, you alone. (Weeping quietly): Ah, was not his a beauteous soul, a soul Wondrous!
CYRANO (standing up--bareheaded): Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE: An inspired poet?
CYRANO: Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE: And a mind sublime?
CYRANO: Oh, yes!
ROXANE: A heart too deep for common minds to plumb, A spirit subtle, charming?
CYRANO (firmly): Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE (flinging herself on the dead body): Dead, my love!
CYRANO (aside--drawing his sword): Ay, and let me die to-day, Since, all unconscious, she mourns me--in him!
(Sounds of trumpets in the distance.)
DE GUICHE (appearing on the ramparts--bareheaded--with a wound on his forehead--in a voice of thunder): It is the signal! Trumpet flourishes! The French bring the provisions into camp! Hold but the place awhile!
ROXANE: See, there is blood Upon the letter--tears!
A VOICE (outside--shouting): Surrender!
VOICE OF CADETS: No!
RAGUENEAU (standing on the top of his carriage, watches the battle over the edge of the ramparts): The danger's ever greater!
CYRANO (to De Guiche--pointing to Roxane): I will charge! Take her away!
ROXANE (kissing the letter--in a half-extinguished voice): O God! his tears! his blood!. . .
RAGUENEAU (jumping down from the carriage and rushing toward her): She's swooned away!
DE GUICHE (on the rampart--to the cadets--with fury): Stand fast!
A VOICE (outside): Lay down your arms!
THE CADETS: No!
CYRANO (to De Guiche): Now that you have proved your valor, Sir, (Pointing to Roxane): Fly, and save her!
DE GUICHE (rushing to Roxane, and carrying her away in his arms): So be it! Gain but time, The victory's ours!
CYRANO: Good. (Calling out to Roxane, whom De Guiche, aided by Ragueneau,
(She goes up to look outside.)
CYRANO: It is too late, now I can never tell!
ROXANE (trying to rush out): What has chanced?
CYRANO (rushing to stop her): Nothing!
(Some cadets enter, trying to hide something they are carrying, and close round it to prevent Roxane approaching.)
ROXANE: And those men? (Cyrano draws her away): What were you just about to say before. . .?
CYRANO: What was I saying? Nothing now, I swear! (Solemnly): I swear that Christian's soul, his nature, were. . . (Hastily correcting himself): Nay, that they are, the noblest, greatest. . .
ROXANE: Were? (With a loud scream): Oh!
(She rushes up, pushing every one aside.)
CYRANO: All is over now!
ROXANE (seeing Christian lying on the ground, wrapped in his cloak): O Christian!
LE BRET (to Cyrano): Struck by first shot of the enemy!
(Roxane flings herself down by Christian. Fresh reports of cannon--clash of arms--clamor--beating of drums.)
CARBON (with sword in the air): O come! Your muskets.
(Followed by the cadets, he passes to the other side of the ramparts.)
ROXANE: Christian!
THE VOICE OF CARBON (from the other side): Ho! make haste!
ROXANE: Christian!
CARBON: FORM LINE!
ROXANE: Christian!
CARBON: HANDLE YOUR MATCH!
(Ragueneau rushes up, bringing water in a helmet.)
CHRISTIAN (in a dying voice): Roxane!
CYRANO (quickly, whispering into Christian's ear, while Roxane distractedly tears a piece of linen from his breast, which she dips into the water, trying to stanch the bleeding): I told her all. She loves you still.
(Christian closes his eyes.)
ROXANE: How, my sweet love?
CARBON: DRAW RAMRODS!
ROXANE (to Cyrano): He is not dead?
CARBON: OPEN YOUR CHARGES WITH YOUR TEETH!
ROXANE: His cheek Grows cold against my own!
CARBON: READY! PRESENT!
ROXANE (seeing a letter in Christian's doublet): A letter!. . . 'Tis for me!
(She opens it.)
CYRANO (aside): My letter!
CARBON: FIRE!
(Musket reports--shouts--noise of battle.)
CYRANO (trying to disengage his hand, which Roxane on her knees is holding): But, Roxane, hark, they fight!
ROXANE (detaining him): Stay yet awhile. For he is dead. You knew him, you alone. (Weeping quietly): Ah, was not his a beauteous soul, a soul Wondrous!
CYRANO (standing up--bareheaded): Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE: An inspired poet?
CYRANO: Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE: And a mind sublime?
CYRANO: Oh, yes!
ROXANE: A heart too deep for common minds to plumb, A spirit subtle, charming?
CYRANO (firmly): Ay, Roxane.
ROXANE (flinging herself on the dead body): Dead, my love!
CYRANO (aside--drawing his sword): Ay, and let me die to-day, Since, all unconscious, she mourns me--in him!
(Sounds of trumpets in the distance.)
DE GUICHE (appearing on the ramparts--bareheaded--with a wound on his forehead--in a voice of thunder): It is the signal! Trumpet flourishes! The French bring the provisions into camp! Hold but the place awhile!
ROXANE: See, there is blood Upon the letter--tears!
A VOICE (outside--shouting): Surrender!
VOICE OF CADETS: No!
RAGUENEAU (standing on the top of his carriage, watches the battle over the edge of the ramparts): The danger's ever greater!
CYRANO (to De Guiche--pointing to Roxane): I will charge! Take her away!
ROXANE (kissing the letter--in a half-extinguished voice): O God! his tears! his blood!. . .
RAGUENEAU (jumping down from the carriage and rushing toward her): She's swooned away!
DE GUICHE (on the rampart--to the cadets--with fury): Stand fast!
A VOICE (outside): Lay down your arms!
THE CADETS: No!
CYRANO (to De Guiche): Now that you have proved your valor, Sir, (Pointing to Roxane): Fly, and save her!
DE GUICHE (rushing to Roxane, and carrying her away in his arms): So be it! Gain but time, The victory's ours!
CYRANO: Good. (Calling out to Roxane, whom De Guiche, aided by Ragueneau,