Act V: Cyrano’s GazetteScene I
Fifteen years later, in 1655. Park of the Sisters of the Holy Cross in Paris. Magnificent trees. On the left the house: broad steps on to which open several doors. An enormous plane tree in the middle of the stage, standing alone. On the right, among big boxwood trees, a semicircular stone bench.
The whole background of the stage is crossed by an alley of chestnut trees leading on the right hand to the door of a chapel seen through the branches. Through the double row of trees of this alley are seen lawns, other alleys, clusters of trees, winding of the park, the sky.
The chapel opens by a little side door on to a colonnade which is wreathed with autumn leaves, and is lost to view a little farther on in the right-hand foreground behind the boxwood.
It is autumn. All the foliage is red against the fresh green of the lawns. The green boxwood and yews stand out dark.
Under each tree a patch of yellow leaves.
The stage is strewn with dead leaves, which rustle under foot in the alleys, and half cover the steps and benches.
Between the benches on the right hand and the tree a large embroidery frame, in front of which a little chair has been set.
Baskets full of skeins and balls of wool. A tapestry begun.
At the rising of the curtains nuns are walking to and fro in the park; some are seated on the bench around an older Sister.
The leaves are falling.
Mother Marguerite, Sister Martha, Sister Claire, other sisters.
Sister Martha
To Mother Marguerite
Sister Claire glanced in the mirror, once—nay, twice, to see if her coif suited.
Mother Marguerite
To Sister Claire
’Tis not well.
Sister Claire
But I saw Sister Martha take a plumOut of the tart.
Mother Marguerite
To Sister Martha
That was ill done, my sister.
Sister Claire
A little glance!
Sister Martha
And such a little plum!
Mother Marguerite
I shall tell this to Monsieur Cyrano.
Sister Claire
Nay, prithee do not!—he will mock!
Sister Martha
He’ll say we nuns are vain!
Sister Claire
And greedy!
Mother Marguerite
Smiling
Ay, and kind!
Sister Claire
Is it not true, pray, Mother Marguerite,That he has come, each week, on SaturdayFor ten years, to the convent?
Mother Marguerite
Ay! and more!Ever since—fourteen years ago—the dayHis cousin brought here, ’midst our woolen coifs,The worldly mourning of her widow’s veil,Like a blackbird’s wing among the convent doves!
Sister Martha
He only has the skill to turn her mindFrom grief—unsoftened yet by Time—unhealed!
All the Sisters
He is so droll!—It’s cheerful when he comes!—He teases us!—But we all like him well!——We make him pasties of angelica!
Sister Martha
But, he is not a faithful Catholic!
Sister Claire
We will convert him!
The Sisters
Yes! Yes!
Mother Marguerite
I forbid,My daughters, you attempt that subject. Nay,Weary him not—he might less oft come here!
Sister Martha
But…God…
Mother Marguerite
Nay, never fear! God knows him well!
Sister Martha
But—every Saturday, when he arrives,He tells me, ‘Sister, I eat meat on Friday!’
Mother Marguerite
Ah! says he so? Well, the last time he cameFood had not passed his lips for two whole days!
Sister Martha
Mother!
Mother Marguerite
He’s poor.
Sister Martha
Who told you so, dear Mother?
Mother Marguerite
Monsieur Le Bret.
Sister Martha
None help him?
Mother Marguerite
He permits not.
In an alley at the back Roxane appears, dressed in black, with a widow’s coif and veil. De Guiche, imposing-looking and visibly aged, walks by her side. They saunter slowly. Mother Marguerite rises
’Tis time we go in; Madame MadeleineWalks in the garden with a visitor.
Sister Martha
To Sister Claire, in a low voice
The Marshal of Grammont?
Sister Claire
Looking at him
’Tis he, I think.
Sister Martha
’Tis many months now since he came to see her.
The Sisters
He is so busy!—The Court,—the camp!…
Sister Claire
The world!
They go out. De Guiche and Roxane come forward in silence, and stop close to the embroidery frame.