Edmond Rostand

“ CYRANO:
With practice such gymnastic grows less hard!
ROXANE:
In truth, I seem to speak from distant heights!
CYRANO:
True, far above; at such a height ’twere death
If a hard word from you fell on my heart.
ROXANE (moving) :
I will come down. . .
CYRANO (hastily) :
No!
ROXANE (showing him the bench under the balcony) :
Mount then on the bench!
CYRANO (starting back alarmed) :
No!
ROXANE:
How, you will not?
CYRANO (more and more moved) :
Stay awhile! ’Tis sweet,. . .
The rare occasion, when our hearts can speak
Our selves unseen, unseeing! ”

“ EDMOND ROSTAND When, in 1886, at eighteen years of age, Edmond Rostand, carried off the Prize for Eloquence at the Academy of Marseilles, the bent of his genius was already plain. For in praising Honoré d’Urfé and his great romance, Astrée, the young poet pleaded the cause of a form of art as far removed as possible from the Naturalist formulas which were still the fashion of the hour. And his praise appeared a programme; and the young apologist of Urfé discovered himself to be the apostle of an idealist and sentimental revival. ”

“ 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 (throwing a folded tablecloth at Cyrano’s head) :
Unfold me that napkin!—Come, come! be nimble!
RAGUENEAU (waving a lantern) :
Each of the carriage-lamps is a little larder!
CYRANO (in a low voice to Christian, as they arrange the cloth together) :
I must speak with you ere you speak to her.
RAGUENEAU:
My whip-handle is an Arles sausage!
ROXANE (pouring out wine, helping) :
Since we are to die, let the rest of the army shift for itself. All for the
Gascons! And mark! if De Guiche comes, let no one invite him! ”

“ ROXANE (smiling) :
’Tis somewhat small.
CARBON (tying the handkerchief on the staff of his lance) :
But—’tis of lace!
A CADET (to the rest) :
I could die happy, having seen so sweet a face, if I had something in my stomach—were it but a nut!
CARBON (who has overheard, indignantly) :
Shame on you! What, talk of eating when a lovely woman!. . .
ROXANE:
But your camp air is keen; I myself am famished. Pasties, cold fricassée, old wines—there is my bill of fare? Pray bring it all here. ”

“ 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! ”

“ CYRANO:
He pays less dear
Than I myself; when a verse pleases me
I pay myself, and sing it to myself!
DE GUICHE:
You are proud.
CYRANO:
Really? You have noticed that?
A CADET (entering, with a string of old battered plumed beaver hats, full of holes, slung on his sword) :
See, Cyrano,—this morning, on the quay
What strange bright-feathered game we caught!
The hats
O’ the fugitives. . .
CARBON:
‘Spolia opima!’
ALL (laughing) :
Ah! ah! ah!
CUIGY:
He who laid that ambush, ’faith!
Must curse and swear!
BRISSAILLE:
Who was it?
DE GUICHE:
I myself. ”

“ The gain of fine things be the loss of all things!
ROXANE:
But wit? I say. . .
CYRANO:
In love ’tis crime,—’tis hateful!
Turning frank loving into subtle fencing!
At last the moment comes, inevitable,—
—Oh, woe for those who never know that moment!
When feeling love exists in us, ennobling,
Each well-weighed word is futile and soul-saddening! ”

“ THE FRIAR:
A quarter of an hour.
CYRANO (pushing them all toward the house) :
Go! I stay.
ROXANE (to Christian) :
Come!. . .
(They enter.)
CYRANO:
Now, how to detain De Guiche so long?
(He jumps on the bench, climbs to the balcony by the wall) :
Come!. . .up I go!. . .I have my plan!. . .
(The lutes begin to play a very sad air) :
What, ho!
(The tremolo grows more and more weird) :
It is a man! ay! ’tis a man this time!
(He is on the balcony, pulls his hat over his eyes, takes off his sword, wraps himself in his cloak, then leans over) :
’Tis not too high! ”

“ CHRISTIAN:
Wept? why?
CYRANO:
Oh!. . .death itself is hardly terrible,. . .
—But, ne’er to see her more! That is death’s sting!
—For. . .I shall never. . .
(Christian looks at him) :
We shall. . .
(Quickly) :
I mean, you. . .
CHRISTIAN (snatching the letter from him) :
Give me that letter!
(A rumor, far off in the camp.)
VOICE Of SENTINEL:
Who goes there? Halloo!
(Shots—voices—carriage-bells.)
CARBON:
What is it?
A SENTINEL (on the rampart) :
’Tis a carriage! ”

“ This passes all! To take letters at each day’s dawn. To risk. . .
CYRANO (stopping before Christian) :
I promised he should write often.
(He looks at him) :
He sleeps. How pale he is! But how handsome still, despite his sufferings.
If his poor little lady-love knew that he is dying of hunger. . .
LE BRET:
Get you quick to bed.
CYRANO:
Nay, never scold, Le Bret. I ran but little risk. I have found me a spot
to pass the Spanish lines, where each night they lie drunk.
LE BRET:
You should try to bring us back provision.
CYRANO:
A man must carry no weight who would get by there! ”

“ CHRISTIAN (still kissing Roxane) :
—’Tis hard to leave her, you know not. . .
CYRANO (trying to draw him away) :
I know.
(Sound of drums beating a march in the distance.)
DE GUICHE:
The regiment starts!
ROXANE (To Cyrano, holding back Christian, whom Cyrano is drawing away) :
Oh!—I trust him you!
Promise me that no risks shall put his life
In danger!
CYRANO:
I will try my best, but promise. . .
That I cannot!
ROXANE:
But swear he shall be prudent?
CYRANO:
Again, I’ll do my best, but. . .
ROXANE:
In the siege
Let him not suffer!
CYRANO:
All that man can do,
I. . ”

“ CYRANO:
Oh! scold away!
LE BRET:
At least, you will agree
That to annihilate each chance of Fate
Exaggerates. . .
CYRANO:
Yes!—I exaggerate!
LE BRET (triumphantly) :
Ah!
CYRANO:
But for principle—example too,—
I think ’tis well thus to exaggerate.
LE BRET:
Oh! lay aside that pride of musketeer,
Fortune and glory wait you!. . .
CYRANO:
Ay, and then?. . .
Seek a protector, choose a patron out,
And like the crawling ivy round a tree
That licks the bark to gain the trunk’s support,
Climb high by creeping ruse instead of force? ”

“ CHRISTIAN.
I withdraw them, Sir!
CYRANO.
Roxane expects a letter to-night.
[Pg 91]
CHRISTIAN.
That is the trouble.
CYRANO.
How so?
CHRISTIAN.
I am lost if I remain silent!....
CYRANO.
Well then?....
CHRISTIAN.
But, I am ashamed to own it, I am too stupid to write.
CYRANO.
Stupid? You are not, friend, since you realise your inability. Moreover, your attack upon me was not that of a dunce.
CHRISTIAN.
Oh! it is easy enough to find words for a fight! Yes, perhaps I have a sort of easy, military wit; but, facing women, I am struck dumb. Oh! their eyes seem favourable enough as I pass them.... ”

“ ROXANE:
Oh, he will not importune me forever!
(Unsealing the letter) :
I love you,—therefore—
(She reads in a low voice by the aid of Ragueneau’s lantern) :
‘Lady,
The drums beat;
My regiment buckles its harness on
And starts; but I,—they deem me gone before—
But I stay. I have dared to disobey
Your mandate. I am here in convent walls.
I come to you to-night. By this poor monk—
A simple fool who knows not what he bears—
I send this missive to apprise your ear. ”

“ CHRISTIAN (with a tug at Cyrano's cloak) .
Why so?
CYRANO.
Be silent, Christian!
ROXANE (leaning over the balcony) .
What are you muttering?
CYRANO.
I was reproving myself for going too far. I was saying: be silent Christian!....
(sound of archlute.)
One moment please!.... Some one comes.
(Roxane closes her window. Cyrano listens to the archlutes; one of them plays a lively air, and the other a sad one.)
Lively?.... Sad?.... A woman or a man? No, a monk! ”

“ CYRANO (aside to Christian) .
I must speak to you!
ROXANE (to the Cadets who come up loaded with eatables) .
Place all that on the ground.
(She spreads a table-cloth on the grass, and, with the assistance of the two lackeys, prepares the cover.)
(to Christian, whom Cyrano is endeavouring to draw aside) .
Come, make yourself useful.
(Christian helps her. Cyrano looks anxious.)
RAGUENEAU.
A stuffed peacock!
A CADET (cutting for himself a large slice of ham) .
Jupiter's thunder! We'll not die without previously ....stuffing our.... (noticing Roxane) your pardon.... feasting! ”

“ CHRISTIAN:
To Monsieur de Valvert!
LIGNIÈRE:
Have a care! It is he who will kill you
(showing him Roxane by a look) :
Stay where you are—she is looking at you.
CHRISTIAN:
It is true!
(He stands looking at her. The group of pickpockets seeing him thus, head in air and open-mouthed, draw near to him.)
LIGNIÈRE:
’Tis I who am going. I am athirst! And they expect me—in the taverns!
(He goes out, reeling.)
LE BRET (who has been all round the hall, coming back to Ragueneau reassured) :
No sign of Cyrano.
RAGUENEAU (incredulously) :
All the same. . . ”

“ GUICHE.
You cannot remain here!
ROXANE (gayly) .
Oh! yes, I can! Will you be kind enough to bring up a drum?
(One of the Cadets brings up a drum, on which she sits.)
There! thank you.
(laughing) .
Do you know that they fired on my coach? It looks like a squash, does it not? As in the fairy tale; and the lackeys like rats.
(sending a kiss to Christian) .
How are you, dear?
(looking around at them all) .
You don't seem to be very merry here! I didn't know that Arras was so far off.
(looking at Cyrano) .
Cousin, delighted!
CYRANO (advancing) .
Roxane, tell me how?.... ”

“ CHRISTIAN (trying to detain her) :
Oh! tell me why you came?
ROXANE:
Wait; my first duty is to these poor fellows.—Hush! In a few minutes. . .
LE BRET (who had gone up to pass a loaf on the end of a lance to the sentry on the rampart) :
De Guiche!
CYRANO:
Quick! hide flasks, plates, pie-dishes, game-baskets! Hurry!—Let us all look unconscious!
(To Ragueneau) :
Up on your seat!—Is everything covered up?
(In an instant all has been pushed into the tents, or hidden under doublets, cloaks, and beavers. De Guiche enters hurriedly—stops suddenly, sniffing the air. Silence.) ”

“ Who is this Cyrano?
CUIGY:
A fellow well skilled in all tricks of fence.
SECOND MARQUIS:
Is he of noble birth?
CUIGY:
Ay, noble enough. He is a cadet in the Guards.
(Pointing to a gentleman who is going up and down the hall as if searching for some one) :
But ’tis his friend Le Bret, yonder, who can best tell you.
(He calls him) :
Le Bret!
(Le Bret comes towards them) :
Seek you for De Bergerac?
LE BRET:
Ay, I am uneasy. . .
CUIGY:
Is it not true that he is the strangest of men?
LE BRET (tenderly) :
True, that he is the choicest of earthly beings!
RAGUENEAU:
Poet! ”

“ 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! ”

“ ROXANE.
For some, perhaps, but....
GUICHE.
But very stupid.
ROXANE.
So it struck me! (changing her manner) .
....Your revenge as regards Cyrano no doubt consists in holding him under fire, which he relishes. So I hardly see great vengeance for you in that. I can tell you, though, what would wound him to the quick!....
GUICHE.
And that is?....
ROXANE.
To have his regiment and his dear cadets remain, so long as there is war, right here, in Paris, inactive! The only way to punish him is to deprive him of danger.
GUICHE.
Woman! Woman! No one but a woman would think of such a scheme! ”

“ CYRANO (to Guiche, pointing to Roxane) .
Carry her off! I will charge!
ROXANE (in dying tones, as she kisses the letter) .
His blood! His tears!....
RAGUENEAU (jumping off the coach and running toward her) .
She is fainting!
GUICHE (on the embankment, fiercely, to the Cadets) .
Steady, for your lives!
[Pg 187]
A VOICE (outside) .
Lay down your arms!
THE CADETS.
Never!
CYRANO (to Guiche) .
You have proved your valour, Sir! You can afford to fly (pointing to Roxane) and save her!
GUICHE (runs to Roxane and takes her in his arms) .
So be it! Hold fast a few moments and we shall win the day! ”