Act III. Scene 8
CHRISTIAN: Oh! win for me that kiss . . .
CHRISTIAN: Soon or late! . . .
CYRANO: 'Tis true! The moment of intoxication — Of madness, — when your mouths are sure to meet Thanks to your fair mustache — and her rose lips! (To himself): I'd fainer it should come thanks to . . .
(A sound of shutters reopening. Christian goes in again under the balcony.)
Act III. Scene 9
Cyrano, Christian, Roxane.
ROXANE (coming out on the balcony): Still there? We spoke of a . . .
CYRANO: A kiss! The word is sweet. I see not why your lip should shrink from it; If the word burns it, — what would the kiss do? Oh! let it not your bashfulness affright; Have you not, all this time, insensibly, Left badinage aside, and unalarmed Glided from smile to sigh, — from sigh to weeping? Glide gently, imperceptibly, still onward — From tear to kiss, — a moment's thrill! — a heartbeat!
ROXANE: Hush! hush!
CYRANO: A kiss, when all is said, — what is it? An oath that's ratified, — a sealed promise, A heart's avowal claiming confirmation, — A rose-dot on the 'i' of 'adoration,' — A secret that to mouth, not ear, is whispered, — Brush of a bee's wing, that makes time eternal, — Communion perfumed like the spring's wild flowers, — The heart's relieving in the heart's outbreathing, When to the lips the soul's flood rises, brimming!
ROXANE: Hush! hush!
CYRANO: A kiss, Madame, is honorable: The Queen of France, to a most favored lord Did grant a kiss — the Queen herself!
ROXANE: What then?
CYRANO (speaking more warmly): Buckingham suffered dumbly, — so have I, — Adored his Queen, as loyally as I, — Was sad, but faithful, — so am I . . .
ROXANE: And you Are fair as Buckingham!
CYRANO (aside — suddenly cooled): True, — I forgot!
ROXANE: Must I then bid thee mount to cull this flower?
CYRANO (pushing Christian toward the balcony): Mount!
ROXANE: This heart-breathing! . . .
ROXANE: This brush of bee's wing! . . .
CHRISTIAN (hesitating): But I feel now, as though 'twere ill done!
ROXANE: This moment infinite! . . .
CYRANO (still pushing him): Come, blockhead, mount!
(Christian springs forward, and by means of the bench, the branches, and the pillars, climbs to the balcony and strides over it.)
CHRISTIAN: Ah, Roxane!
(He takes her in his arms, and bends over her lips.)
CYRANO: Aie! Strange pain that wrings my heart! The kiss, love's feast, so near! I, Lazarus, Lie at the gate in darkness. Yet to me Falls still a crumb or two from the rich man's board — Ay, 'tis my heart receives thee, Roxane — mine! For on the lips you press you kiss as well The words I spoke just now! — my words — my words! (The lutes play): A sad air, — a gay air: the monk! (He begins to run as if he came from a long way off, and cries out): Hola!
ROXANE: Who is it?
CYRANO: I — I was but passing by . . . Is Christian there?
CHRISTIAN (astonished): Cyrano!
ROXANE: Good-day, cousin!
CYRANO: Cousin, good-day!
ROXANE: I'm coming!
(She disappears into the house. At the back re-enter the friar.)
CHRISTIAN (seeing him): Back again!
(He follows Roxane.)