University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

Ragueneau, Lise, Cyrano, then the musketeer.
CYRANO

What's o'clock?

RAGUENEAU
(bowing low)

Six o'clock.

CYRANO
(with emotion)

In one hour's time!

(He paces up and down the shop.)
RAGUENEAU
(following him)

Bravo! I saw. . .

CYRANO

Well, what saw you, then?

RAGUENEAU

Your combat!. . .

CYRANO

Which?

RAGUENEAU

That in the Burgundy Hotel, 'faith!

CYRANO
(contemptuously)

Ah!. . .the duel!

RAGUENEAU
(admiringly)

Ay! the duel in verse!. . .

LISE

He can talk of naught else!

CYRANO

Well! Good! let be!

RAGUENEAU
(making passes with a spit that he catches up)

'At the envoi's end, I touch!. . .At the envoi's end, I touch!'. . .'Tis fine, fine!

(With increasing enthusiasm)

'At the envoi's end--'

CYRANO

What hour is it now, Ragueneau?

RAGUENEAU
(stopping short in the act of thrusting to look at the clock)

Five minutes after six!. . .'I touch!'

(He straightens himself)

. . .Oh! to write a ballade!

LISE
(to Cyrano, who, as he passes by the counter, has absently shaken hands with her)

What's wrong with your hand?

CYRANO

Naught; a slight cut.

RAGUENEAU

Have you been in some danger?

CYRANO

None in the world.

LISE
(shaking her finger at him)

Methinks you speak not the truth in saying that!

CYRANO

Did you see my nose quiver when I spoke? 'Faith, it must have been a monstrous lie that should move it!

(Changing his tone)

I wait some one here. Leave us alone, and disturb us for naught an it were not for crack of doom!

RAGUENEAU

But 'tis impossible; my poets are coming. . .

LISE
(ironically)

Oh, ay, for their first meal o' the day!

CYRANO

Prythee, take them aside when I shall make you sign to do so. . .What's o'clock?

RAGUENEAU

Ten minutes after six.

CYRANO
(nervously seating himself at Ragueneau's table, and drawing some paper toward him)

A pen!. . .

RAGUENEAU
(giving him the one from behind his ear)

Here--a swan's quill.

A MUSKETEER
(with fierce mustache, enters, and in a stentorian voice)

Good-day!

(Lise goes up to him quickly.)
CYRANO
(turning round)

Who's that?

RAGUENEAU

'Tis a friend of my wife--a terrible warrior--at least so says he himself.

CYRANO
(taking up the pen, and motioning Ragueneau away)

Hush!

(To himself)

I will write, fold it, give it her, and fly!

(Throws down the pen)

Coward!

. . .But strike me dead if I dare to speak to her,. . .ay, even one single word!

(To Ragueneau)

What time is it?

RAGUENEAU

A quarter after six!. . .

CYRANO
(striking his breast)

Ay--a single word of all those here! here! But writing, 'tis easier done. . .

(He takes up the pen)

Go to, I will write it, that love-letter! Oh! I have writ it and rewrit it in my own mind so oft that it lies there ready for pen and ink; and if I lay but my soul by my letter-sheet, 'tis naught to do but to copy from it.

(He writes. Through the glass of the door the silhouettes of their figures move uncertainly and hesitatingly.)