Act V: Cyrano’s GazetteScene II
Roxane; the Duke de Grammont, formerly Count de Guiche. Then Le Bret and Ragueneau.
The Duke
And you stay here still—ever vainly fair,Ever in weeds?
Roxane
Ever.
The Duke
Still faithful?
Roxane
Still.
The Duke
After a pause
Am I forgiven?
Roxane
Ay, since I am here.
Another pause.
The Duke
His was a soul, you say?…
Roxane
Ah!—when you knew him!
The Duke
Ah, may be!…I, perchance, too little knew him!…And his last letter, ever next your heart?
Roxane
Hung from this chain, a gentle scapulary.
The Duke
And, dead, you love him still?
Roxane
At times,—meseemsHe is but partly dead—our hearts still speak,As if his love, still living, wrapped me round!
The Duke
After another pause
Cyrano comes to see you?
Roxane
Often, ay.Dear, kind old friend! We call him my ‘Gazette.’He never fails to come: beneath this treeThey place his chair, if it be fine:—I wait,I broider;—the clock strikes;—at the last strokeI hear,—for now I never turn to look—Too sure to hear his cane tap down the steps;He seats himself:—with gentle railleryHe mocks my tapestry that’s never done;He tells me all the gossip of the week…
Le Bret appears on the steps
Why, here’s Le Bret!
Le Bret descends
How goes it with our friend?
Le Bret
Ill!—very ill.
The Duke
How?
Roxane
To the Duke
He exaggerates!
Le Bret
All that I prophesied: desertion, want!…His letters now make him fresh enemies!—Attacking the sham nobles, sham devout,Sham brave,—the thieving authors,—all the world!
Roxane
Ah! but his sword still holds them all in check;None get the better of him.
The Duke
Shaking his head
Time will show!
Le Bret
Ah, but I fear for him—not man’s attack,—Solitude—hunger—cold December days,That wolf-like steal into his chamber drear:—Lo! the assassins that I fear for him!Each day he tightens by one hole his belt:That poor nose—tinted like old ivory:He has retained one shabby suit of serge.
The Duke
Ay, there is one who has no prize of Fortune!—Yet is not to be pitied!
Le Bret
With a bitter smile
My Lord Marshal!…
The Duke
Pity him not! He has lived out his vows,Free in his thoughts, as in his actions free!
Le Bret
In the same tone
My Lord!…
The Duke
Haughtily
True! I have all, and he has naught;…Yet I were proud to take his hand!
Bowing to Roxane
Adieu!
Roxane
I go with you.
The Duke bows to Le Bret, and goes with Roxane toward the steps.
The Duke
Pausing, while she goes up
Ay, true,—I envy him.Look you, when life is brimful of success—Though the past hold no action foul—one feelsA thousand self-disgusts, of which the sumIs not remorse, but a dim, vague unrest;And, as one mounts the steps of worldly fame,The Duke’s furred mantles trail within their foldsA sound of dead illusions, vain regrets,A rustle—scarce a whisper—like as when,Mounting the terrace steps, by your mourning robeSweeps in its train the dying autumn leaves.
Roxane
Ironically
You are pensive?
The Duke
True! I am!
As he is going out, suddenly
Monsieur Le Bret!
To Roxane
A word, with your permission?
He goes to Le Bret, and in a low voice
True, that noneDare to attack your friend;—but many hate him;Yesterday, at the Queen’s card-play, ’twas said‘That Cyrano may die—by accident!’Let him stay in—be prudent!
Le Bret
Raising his arms to heaven
Prudent! He!…He’s coming here. I’ll warn him—but!…
Roxane
Who has stayed on the steps, to a sister who comes toward her
What is it?
The Sister
Ragueneau would see you, Madame.
Roxane
Let him come.
To the Duke and Le Bret
He comes to tell his troubles. Having beenAn author (save the mark!)—poor fellow—nowBy turns he’s singer…
Le Bret
Bathing-man…
Roxane
Then actor…
Le Bret
Beadle…
Roxane
Wig-maker…
Le Bret
Teacher of the lute…
Roxane
What will he be to-day, by chance?
Ragueneau
Entering hurriedly
Ah! Madame!
He sees Le Bret
Ah! you here, Sir!
Roxane
Smiling
Tell all your miseriesTo him; I will return anon.
Ragueneau
But, Madame…
Roxane goes out with the Duke. Ragueneau goes toward Le Bret.