Roxane's Kiss.
A small square in the old Marais. Old houses. A perspective of little streets. On the right Roxane's house and the wall of her garden overhung with thick foliage. Window and balcony over the door. A bench in front.
From the bench and the stones jutting out of the wall it is easy to climb to the balcony. In front of an old house in the same style of brick and stone. The knocker of this door is bandaged with linen like a sore thumb.
At the rising of the curtain the duenna is seated on the bench.
The window on Roxane's balcony is wide open.
Ragueneau is standing near the door in a sort of livery. He has just finished relating something to the duenna, and is wiping his eyes.
Scene III.1.
Ragueneau, the duenna. Then Roxane, Cyrano, and two pages.
RAGUENEAU:
--And then, off she went, with a musketeer! Deserted and ruined too, I would
make an end of all, and so hanged myself. My last breath was drawn:
-- then in comes Monsieur de Bergerac! He cuts me down, and begs his cousin
to take me for her steward.
THE DUENNA:
Well, but how came it about that you were thus ruined?
RAGUENEAU:
Oh! Lise loved the warriors, and I loved the poets! What cakes there were that
Apollo chanced to leave were quickly snapped up by Mars. Thus ruin was not
long a-coming.
THE DUENNA (rising, and calling up to the open window):
Roxane, are you ready? They wait for us!
ROXANE'S VOICE (from the window):
I will but put me on a cloak!
THE DUENNA (to Ragueneau, showing him the door opposite):
They wait us there opposite, at Clomire's house. She receives them all there today--the
precieuses, the poets; they read a
discourse on the Tender Passion.
RAGUENEAU:
The Tender Passion?
THE DUENNA (in a mincing voice):
Ay, indeed!
(Calling up to the window):
Roxane, an you come not down quickly, we shall miss the discourse on the
Tender Passion!
ROXANE'S VOICE:
I come! I come!
(A sound of stringed instruments approaching.)
CYRANO'S VOICE (behind the scenes, singing):
La, la, la, la!
THE DUENNA (surprised):
They serenade us?
CYRANO (followed by two pages with arch-lutes):
I tell you they are demi-semi-quavers, demi-semi-fool!
FIRST PAGE (ironically):
You know then, Sir, to distinguish between semi-quavers and demi-semi-
quavers?
CYRANO:
Is not every disciple of Gassendi a musician?
THE PAGE (playing and singing):
La, la!
CYRANO (snatching the lute from him, and going on with the phrase):
In proof of which, I can continue! La, la, la, la!
ROXANE (appearing on the balcony):
What? 'Tis you?
CYRANO (going on with the air, and singing to it):
'Tis I, who come to serenade your lilies, and pay my devoir to your ro-o- oses!
ROXANE:
I am coming down!
(She leaves the balcony.)
THE DUENNA (pointing to the pages):
How come these two virtuosi here?
CYRANO:
'Tis for a wager I won of D'Assoucy. We were disputing a nice point in grammar;
contradictions raged hotly--''Tis so!' 'Nay, 'tis so!' when suddenly he shows me
these two long-shanks, whom he takes about with him as an escort, and who are
skillful in scratching lute-strings with their skinny claws! 'I will wager you a day's
music,' says he!--And lost it! Thus, see you, till Phoebus' chariot starts once
again, these lute-twangers are at my heels, seeing all I do, hearing all I say, and
accompanying all with melody. 'Twas pleasant at the first, but i' faith, I begin to
weary of it already! (To the musicians):
Ho there! go serenade Montfleury for me! Play a dance to him! (The pages go
toward the door. To the duenna):
I have come, as is my wont, nightly, to ask Roxane whether. . . (To the pages,
who are going out):
Play a long time,--and play out of tune! (To the duenna):
. . .Whether her soul's elected is ever the same, ever faultless!
ROXANE (coming out of the house):
Ah! How handsome he is, how brilliant a wit! And--how well I love him!
CYRANO (smiling):
Christian has so brilliant a wit?
ROXANE:
Brighter than even your own, cousin!
CYRANO:
Be it so, with all my heart!
ROXANE:
Ah! methinks 'twere impossible that there could breathe a man on this earth
skilled to say as sweetly as he all the pretty nothings that mean so much-- that
mean all! At times his mind seems far away, the Muse says naught--and then,
presto! he speaks--bewitchingly! enchantingly!
CYRANO (incredulously):
No, no!
ROXANE:
Fie! That is ill said! But lo! men are ever thus! Because he is fair to see, you
would have it that he must be dull of speech.
CYRANO:
He hath an eloquent tongue in telling his love?
ROXANE:
In telling his love? why, 'tis not simple telling, 'tis dissertation, 'tis analysis!
CYRANO:
How is he with the pen?
ROXANE:
Still better! Listen,--here:--
(Reciting):
'The more of my poor heart you take
The larger grows my heart!'
(Triumphantly to Cyrano):
How like you those lines?
CYRANO:
Pooh!
ROXANE:
And thus it goes on. . .
'And, since some target I must show
For Cupid's cruel dart,
Oh, if mine own you deign to keep,
Then give me your sweet heart!'
CYRANO:
Lord! first he has too much, then anon not enough! How much heart does the
fellow want?
ROXANE:
You would vex a saint!. . .But 'tis your jealousy.
CYRANO (starting):
What mean you?
ROXANE:
Ay, your poet's jealousy! Hark now, if this again be not tender-sweet?--
'My heart to yours sounds but one cry:
If kisses fast could flee
By letter, then with your sweet lips
My letters read should be!
If kisses could be writ with ink,
If kisses fast could flee!'
CYRANO (smiling approvingly in spite of himself):
Ha! those last lines are,--hm!. . .hm!. . .
(Correcting himself--contemptuously):
--They are paltry enough!
ROXANE:
And this. . .
CYRANO (enchanted):
Then you have his letters by heart?
ROXANE:
Every one of them!
CYRANO:
By all oaths that can be sworn,--'tis flattering!
ROXANE:
They are the lines of a master!
CYRANO (modestly):
Come, nay. . .a master?. . .
ROXANE:
Ay, I say it--a master!
CYRANO:
Good--be it so.
THE DUENNA (coming down quickly):
Here comes Monsieur de Guiche!
(To Cyrano, pushing him toward the house):
In with you! 'twere best he see you not; it might perchance put him on the scent.
. .
ROXANE (to Cyrano):
Ay, of my own dear secret! He loves me, and is powerful, and, if he knew, then
all were lost! Marry! he could well deal a deathblow to my love!
CYRANO (entering the house):
Good! good!
(De Guiche appears.)
Scene III.2.
Roxane, De Guiche, the duenna standing a little way off.
ROXANE (courtesying to De Guiche):
I was going out.
DE GUICHE:
I come to take my leave.
ROXANE:
Whither go you?
DE GUICHE:
To the war.
ROXANE:
Ah!
DE GUICHE:
Ay, to-night.
ROXANE:
Oh!
DE GUICHE:
I am ordered away. We are to besiege Arras.
ROXANE:
Ah--to besiege?. . .
DE GUICHE:
Ay. My going moves you not, meseems.
ROXANE:
Nay. . .
DE GUICHE:
I am grieved to the core of the heart. Shall I again behold you?. . .When? I know
not. Heard you that I am named commander?. . .
ROXANE (indifferently):
Bravo!
DE GUICHE:
Of the Guards regiment.
ROXANE (startled):
What! the Guards?
DE GUICHE:
Ay, where serves your cousin, the swaggering boaster. I will find a way to
revenge myself on him at Arras.
ROXANE (choking):
What mean you? The Guards go to Arras?
DE GUICHE (laughing):
Bethink you, is it not my own regiment?
ROXANE (falling seated on the bench--aside):
Christian!
DE GUICHE:
What ails you?
ROXANE (moved deeply):
Oh--I am in despair! The man one loves!--at the war!
DE GUICHE (surprised and delighted):
You say such sweet words to me! 'Tis the first time!--and just when I must quit
you!
ROXANE (collected, and fanning herself):
Thus,--you would fain revenge your grudge against my cousin?
DE GUICHE:
My fair lady is on his side?
ROXANE:
Nay,--against him!
DE GUICHE:
Do you see him often?
ROXANE:
But very rarely.
DE GUICHE:
He is ever to be met now in company with one of the cadets,. . .one New--
villen--viller--
ROXANE:
Of high stature?
DE GUICHE:
Fair-haired!
ROXANE:
Ay, a red-headed fellow!
DE GUICHE:
Handsome!. . .
ROXANE:
Tut!
DE GUICHE:
But dull-witted.
ROXANE:
One would think so, to look at him!
(Changing her tone):
How mean you to play your revenge on Cyrano? Perchance you think to put
him i' the thick of the shots? Nay, believe me, that were a poor vengeance--he
would love such a post better than aught else! I know the way to wound his pride
far more keenly!
DE GUICHE:
What then? Tell. . .
ROXANE:
If, when the regiment march to Arras, he were left here with his beloved boon
companions, the Cadets, to sit with crossed arms so long as the war lasted!
There is your method, would you enrage a man of his kind; cheat him of his
chance of mortal danger, and you punish him right fiercely.
DE GUICHE (coming nearer):
O woman! woman! Who but a woman had e'er devised so subtle a trick?
ROXANE:
See you not how he will eat out his heart, while his friends gnaw their thick fists
for that they are deprived of the battle? So are you best avenged.
DE GUICHE:
You love me, then, a little?
(She smiles):
I would fain--seeing you thus espouse my cause, Roxane--believe it a proof of
love!
ROXANE:
'Tis a proof of love!
DE GUICHE (showing some sealed papers):
Here are the marching orders; they will be sent instantly to each company--
except-- (He detaches one):
--This one! 'Tis that of the Cadets.
(He puts it in his pocket):
This I keep. (Laughing):
Ha! ha! ha! Cyrano! His love of battle!. . .So you can play tricks on people?. .
.you, of all ladies!
ROXANE:
Sometimes!
DE GUICHE (coming close to her):
Oh! how I love you!--to distraction! Listen! To-night--true, I ought to start--but-how
leave
you now that I feel your heart
is touched! Hard by, in the Rue
d'Orleans,
is a convent founded by Father
Athanasius, the syndic of the
Capuchins.
True that no layman may enter--but--I
can settle that with the good
Fathers!
Their habit sleeves are wide enough to
hide me in. 'Tis they who serve
Richelieu's
private chapel:
and
from respect to the uncle, fear the
nephew. All will deem me gone. I will
come
to you, masked. Give me
leave to wait till tomorrow,
sweet Lady Fanciful!
ROXANE:
But, of this be rumored, your glory. . .
DE GUICHE:
Bah!
ROXANE:
But the siege--Arras. . .
DE GUICHE:
'Twill take its chance. Grant but permission.
ROXANE:
No!
DE GUICHE:
Give me leave!
ROXANE (tenderly):
It were my duty to forbid you!
DE GUICHE:
Ah!
ROXANE:
You must go!
(Aside):
Christian stays here.
(Aloud):
I would have you heroic--Antoine!
DE GUICHE:
O heavenly word! You love, then, him?. . .
ROXANE:
. . .For whom I trembled.
DE GUICHE (in an ecstasy):
Ah! I go then!
(He kisses her hand):
Are you content?
ROXANE:
Yes, my friend!
(He goes out.)
THE DUENNA (making behind his back a mocking courtesy):
Yes, my friend!
ROXANE (to the duenna):
Not a word of what I have done. Cyrano would never pardon me for stealing his
fighting from him!
(She calls toward the house):
Cousin!
Scene III.3.
Roxane, The duenna, Cyrano.
ROXANE:
We are going to Clomire's house.
(She points to the door opposite):
Alcandre and Lysimon are to discourse!
THE DUENNA (putting her little finger in her ear):
Yes! But my little finger tells me we shall miss them.
CYRANO:
'Twere a pity to miss such apes!
(They have come to Clomire's door.)
THE DUENNA:
Oh, see! The knocker is muffled up!
(Speaking to the knocker):
So they have gagged that metal tongue of yours, little noisy one, lest it should
disturb the fine orators!
(She lifts it carefully and knocks with precaution.)
ROXANE (seeing that the door opens):
Let us enter!
(On the threshold, to Cyrano):
If Christian comes, as I feel sure he will, bid him wait for me!
CYRANO (quickly, as she is going in):
Listen! (She turns):
What mean you to question him on, as is your wont, to-night?
ROXANE:
Oh--
CYRANO (eagerly):
Well, say.
ROXANE:
But you will be mute?
CYRANO:
Mute as a fish.
ROXANE:
I shall not question him at all, but say:
Give rein to your fancy! Prepare not your speeches,--but speak the thoughts as
they come! Speak to me of love, and speak splendidly!
CYRANO (smiling):
Very good!
ROXANE:
But secret!. . .
CYRANO:
Secret.
ROXANE:
Not a word!
(She enters and shuts the door.)
CYRANO (when the door is shut, bowing to her):
A thousand thanks!
(The door opens again, and Roxane puts her head out.)
ROXANE:
Lest he prepare himself!
CYRANO:
The devil!--no, no!
BOTH TOGETHER:
Secret.
(The door shuts.)
CYRANO (calling):
Christian!
Scene III.4.
Cyrano, Christian.
CYRANO:
I know all that is needful. Here's occasion
For you to deck yourself with glory. Come,
Lose no time; put away those sulky looks,
Come to your house with me, I'll teach you. . .
CHRISTIAN:
No!
CYRANO:
Why?
CHRISTIAN:
I will wait for Roxane here.
CYRANO:
How? Crazy? Come quick with me and learn. . .
CHRISTIAN:
No, no! I say.
I am aweary of these borrowed letters,
--Borrowed love-makings! Thus to act a part,
And tremble all the time!--'Twas well enough
At the beginning!--Now I know she loves!
I fear no longer!--I will speak myself.
CYRANO:
Mercy!
CHRISTIAN:
And how know you I canno