Act III. Scene 6
Christian, Cyrano, two pages.
CHRISTIAN: Come to my aid!
CYRANO: Not I!
CHRISTIAN: But I shall die, Unless at once I win back her fair favor.
CYRANO: And how can I, at once, i' th' devil's name, Lesson you in . . .
CHRISTIAN (seizing his arm): Oh, she is there!
(The window of the balcony is now lighted up.)
CYRANO (moved): Her window!
CHRISTIAN: Oh! I shall die!
CYRANO: Speak lower!
CHRISTIAN (in a whisper): I shall die!
CYRANO: The night is dark . . .
CYRANO: All can be repaired. Although you merit not. Stand there, poor wretch! Fronting the balcony! I'll go beneath And prompt your words to you . . .
CHRISTIAN: But . . .
CYRANO: Hold your tongue!
THE PAGES (reappearing at back — to Cyrano): Ho!
(He signs to them to speak softly.)
FIRST PAGE (in a low voice): We've played the serenade you bade To Montfleury!
CYRANO (quickly, in a low voice): Go! lurk in ambush there, One at this street corner, and one at that; And if a passer-by should here intrude, Play you a tune!
SECOND PAGE: What tune, Sir Gassendist?
CYRANO: Gay, if a woman comes, — for a man, sad! (The pages disappear, one at each street corner. To Christian): Call her!
CYRANO (picking up stones and throwing them at the window): Some pebbles! wait awhile!
ROXANE (half-opening the casement): Who calls me?
ROXANE: Who's that?
ROXANE (disdainfully): Oh! you?
CHRISTIAN: I would speak with you.
CYRANO (under the balcony — to Christian): Good. Speak soft and low.
ROXANE: No, you speak stupidly!
CHRISTIAN: Oh, pity me!
ROXANE: No! you love me no more!
CHRISTIAN (prompted by Cyrano): You say — Great Heaven! I love no more? — when — I — love more and more!
ROXANE (who was about to shut the casement, pausing): Hold! 'tis a trifle better! ay, a trifle!
CHRISTIAN (same play): Love grew apace, rocked by the anxious beating . . . Of this poor heart, which the cruel wanton boy . . . Took for a cradle!
ROXANE (coming out on to the balcony): That is better! But An if you deem that Cupid be so cruel You should have stifled baby-love in's cradle!
CHRISTIAN (same play): Ah, Madame, I assayed, but all in vain This . . . new-born babe is a young . . . Hercules!
ROXANE: Still better!
CHRISTIAN (same play): Thus he strangled in my heart The . . . serpents twain, of . . . Pride . . . and Doubt!
ROXANE (leaning over the balcony): Well said! — But why so faltering? Has mental palsy Seized on your faculty imaginative?
CYRANO (drawing Christian under the balcony, and slipping into his place): Give place! This waxes critical! . . .
ROXANE: To-day . . . Your words are hesitating.
CYRANO (imitating Christian — in a whisper): Night has come . . . In the dusk they grope their way to find your ear.
ROXANE: But my words find no such impediment.