Cyrano de Bergerac [52]
to laugh and chat.
CYRANO: Roxane!
ROXANE: 'Twas you!
CYRANO: No, never; Roxane, no!
ROXANE: I should have guessed, each time he said my name!
CYRANO: No, it was not I!
ROXANE: It was you!
CYRANO: I swear!
ROXANE: I see through all the generous counterfeit-- The letters--you!
CYRANO: No.
ROXANE: The sweet, mad love-words! You!
CYRANO: No!
ROXANE: The voice that thrilled the night--you, you!
CYRANO: I swear you err.
ROXANE: The soul--it was your soul!
CYRANO: I loved you not.
ROXANE: You loved me not?
CYRANO: 'Twas he!
ROXANE: You loved me!
CYRANO: No!
ROXANE: See! how you falter now!
CYRANO: No, my sweet love, I never loved you!
ROXANE: Ah! Things dead, long dead, see! how they rise again! --Why, why keep silence all these fourteen years, When, on this letter, which he never wrote, The tears were your tears?
CYRANO (holding out the letter to her): The bloodstains were his.
ROXANE: Why, then, that noble silence,--kept so long-- Broken to-day for the first time--why?
CYRANO: Why?. . .
(Le Bret and Ragueneau enter running.)
Scene 5.VI.
The same. Le Bret and Ragueneau.
LE BRET: What madness! Here? I knew it well!
CYRANO (smiling and sitting up): What now?
LE BRET: He has brought his death by coming, Madame.
ROXANE: God! Ah, then! that faintness of a moment since. . .?
CYRANO: Why, true! It interrupted the 'Gazette:' . . .Saturday, twenty-sixth, at dinner-time, Assassination of De Bergerac.
(He takes off his hat; they see his head bandaged.)
ROXANE: What says he? Cyrano!--His head all bound! Ah, what has chanced? How?--Who?. . .
CYRANO: 'To be struck down, Pierced by sword i' the heart, from a hero's hand!' That I had dreamed. O mockery of Fate! --Killed, I! of all men--in an ambuscade! Struck from behind, and by a lackey's hand! 'Tis very well. I am foiled, foiled in all, Even in my death.
RAGUENEAU: Ah, Monsieur!. . .
CYRANO (holding out his hand to him): Ragueneau, Weep not so bitterly!. . .What do you now, Old comrade?
RAGUENEAU (amid his tears): Trim the lights for Moliere's stage.
CYRANO: Moliere!
RAGUENEAU: Yes; but I shall leave to-morrow. I cannot bear it!--Yesterday, they played 'Scapin'--I saw he'd thieved a scene from you!
LE BRET: What! a whole scene?
RAGUENEAU: Oh, yes, indeed, Monsieur, The famous one, 'Que Diable allait-il faire?'
LE BRET: Moliere has stolen that?
CYRANO: Tut! He did well!. . . (to Ragueneau): How went the scene? It told--I think it told?
RAGUENEAU (sobbing): Ah! how they laughed!
CYRANO: Look you, it was my life To be the prompter every one forgets! (To Roxane): That night when 'neath your window Christian spoke --Under your balcony, you remember? Well! There was the allegory of my whole life: I, in the shadow, at the ladder's foot, While others lightly mount to Love and Fame! Just! very just! Here on the threshold drear Of death, I pay my tribute with the rest, To Moliere's genius,--Christian's fair face! (The chapel-bell chimes. The nuns are seen passing down the alley at the back, to say their office): Let them go pray, go pray, when the bell rings!
ROXANE (rising and calling): Sister! Sister!
CYRANO (holding her fast): Call no one. Leave me not; When you come back, I should be gone for aye. (The nuns have all entered the chapel. The organ sounds): I was somewhat fain for music--hark! 'tis come.
ROXANE: Live, for I love you!
CYRANO: No, In fairy tales When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says 'I love you!' all his ugliness fades fast-- But I remain the same, up to the last!
ROXANE: I have marred your life--I, I!
CYRANO: You blessed my life! Never on me had rested woman's love. My mother even could not find me fair: I had no sister; and, when grown a man, I feared the mistress who would mock at me. But I have had your friendship--grace
CYRANO: Roxane!
ROXANE: 'Twas you!
CYRANO: No, never; Roxane, no!
ROXANE: I should have guessed, each time he said my name!
CYRANO: No, it was not I!
ROXANE: It was you!
CYRANO: I swear!
ROXANE: I see through all the generous counterfeit-- The letters--you!
CYRANO: No.
ROXANE: The sweet, mad love-words! You!
CYRANO: No!
ROXANE: The voice that thrilled the night--you, you!
CYRANO: I swear you err.
ROXANE: The soul--it was your soul!
CYRANO: I loved you not.
ROXANE: You loved me not?
CYRANO: 'Twas he!
ROXANE: You loved me!
CYRANO: No!
ROXANE: See! how you falter now!
CYRANO: No, my sweet love, I never loved you!
ROXANE: Ah! Things dead, long dead, see! how they rise again! --Why, why keep silence all these fourteen years, When, on this letter, which he never wrote, The tears were your tears?
CYRANO (holding out the letter to her): The bloodstains were his.
ROXANE: Why, then, that noble silence,--kept so long-- Broken to-day for the first time--why?
CYRANO: Why?. . .
(Le Bret and Ragueneau enter running.)
Scene 5.VI.
The same. Le Bret and Ragueneau.
LE BRET: What madness! Here? I knew it well!
CYRANO (smiling and sitting up): What now?
LE BRET: He has brought his death by coming, Madame.
ROXANE: God! Ah, then! that faintness of a moment since. . .?
CYRANO: Why, true! It interrupted the 'Gazette:' . . .Saturday, twenty-sixth, at dinner-time, Assassination of De Bergerac.
(He takes off his hat; they see his head bandaged.)
ROXANE: What says he? Cyrano!--His head all bound! Ah, what has chanced? How?--Who?. . .
CYRANO: 'To be struck down, Pierced by sword i' the heart, from a hero's hand!' That I had dreamed. O mockery of Fate! --Killed, I! of all men--in an ambuscade! Struck from behind, and by a lackey's hand! 'Tis very well. I am foiled, foiled in all, Even in my death.
RAGUENEAU: Ah, Monsieur!. . .
CYRANO (holding out his hand to him): Ragueneau, Weep not so bitterly!. . .What do you now, Old comrade?
RAGUENEAU (amid his tears): Trim the lights for Moliere's stage.
CYRANO: Moliere!
RAGUENEAU: Yes; but I shall leave to-morrow. I cannot bear it!--Yesterday, they played 'Scapin'--I saw he'd thieved a scene from you!
LE BRET: What! a whole scene?
RAGUENEAU: Oh, yes, indeed, Monsieur, The famous one, 'Que Diable allait-il faire?'
LE BRET: Moliere has stolen that?
CYRANO: Tut! He did well!. . . (to Ragueneau): How went the scene? It told--I think it told?
RAGUENEAU (sobbing): Ah! how they laughed!
CYRANO: Look you, it was my life To be the prompter every one forgets! (To Roxane): That night when 'neath your window Christian spoke --Under your balcony, you remember? Well! There was the allegory of my whole life: I, in the shadow, at the ladder's foot, While others lightly mount to Love and Fame! Just! very just! Here on the threshold drear Of death, I pay my tribute with the rest, To Moliere's genius,--Christian's fair face! (The chapel-bell chimes. The nuns are seen passing down the alley at the back, to say their office): Let them go pray, go pray, when the bell rings!
ROXANE (rising and calling): Sister! Sister!
CYRANO (holding her fast): Call no one. Leave me not; When you come back, I should be gone for aye. (The nuns have all entered the chapel. The organ sounds): I was somewhat fain for music--hark! 'tis come.
ROXANE: Live, for I love you!
CYRANO: No, In fairy tales When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says 'I love you!' all his ugliness fades fast-- But I remain the same, up to the last!
ROXANE: I have marred your life--I, I!
CYRANO: You blessed my life! Never on me had rested woman's love. My mother even could not find me fair: I had no sister; and, when grown a man, I feared the mistress who would mock at me. But I have had your friendship--grace