Act V: Cyrano’s GazetteScene V
Roxane, Cyrano and, for a moment, Sister Martha.
Roxane
Without turning round
What was I saying?…
She embroiders. Cyrano, very pale, his hat pulled down over his eyes, appears. The sister who had announced him retires. He descends the steps slowly, with a visible difficulty in holding himself upright, bearing heavily on his cane. Roxane still works at her tapestry
Time has dimmed the tints…How harmonize them now?
To Cyrano, with playful reproach
For the first timeLate!—For the first time, all these fourteen years!
Cyrano
Who has succeeded in reaching the chair, and has seated himself—in a lively voice, which is in great contrast with his pale face
Ay! It is villainous! I raged—was stayed…
Roxane
By?…
Cyrano
By a bold, unwelcome visitor.
Roxane
Absently, working
Some creditor?
Cyrano
Ay, cousin,—the last creditorWho has a debt to claim from me.
Roxane
And youHave paid it?
Cyrano
No, not yet! I put it off;—Said, ‘Cry you mercy; this is Saturday,When I have get a standing rendezvousThat naught defers. Call in an hour’s time!’
Roxane
Carelessly
Oh, well, a creditor can always wait!I shall not let you go ere twilight falls.
Cyrano
Haply, perforce, I quit you ere it falls!
He shuts his eyes, and is silent for a moment. Sister Martha crosses the park from the chapel to the flight of steps. Roxane, seeing her, signs to her to approach.
Roxane
To Cyrano
How now? You have not teased the Sister?
Cyrano
Hastily opening his eyes
True!
In a comically loud voice
Sister! come here!
The sister glides up to him
Ha! ha! What? Those bright eyesBent ever on the ground?
Sister Martha
Who makes a movement of astonishment on seeing his face
Oh!
Cyrano
In a whisper, pointing to Roxane
Hush! ’tis naught!—
Loudly, in a blustering voice
I broke fast yesterday!
Sister Martha
Aside
I know, I know!That’s how he is so pale! Come presentlyTo the refectory, I’ll make you drinkA famous bowl of soup…You’ll come?
Cyrano
Ay, ay!
Sister Martha
There, see! You are more reasonable to-day!
Roxane
Who hears them whispering
The Sister would convert you?
Sister Martha
Nay, not I!
Cyrano
Hold! but it’s true! You preach to me no more,You, once so glib with holy words! I amAstonished!…
With burlesque fury
Stay, I will surprise you too!Hark! I permit you…
He pretends to be seeking for something to tease her with, and to have found it
…It is something new!—To—pray for me, to-night, at chapel-time!
Roxane
Oh! oh!
Cyrano
Laughing
Good Sister Martha is struck dumb!
Sister Martha
Gently
I did not wait your leave to pray for you.
She goes out.
Cyrano
Turning to Roxane, who is still bending over her work
That tapestry! Beshrew me if my eyesWill ever see it finished!
Roxane
I was sureTo hear that well-known jest!
A light breeze causes the leaves to fall.
Cyrano
The autumn leaves!
Roxane
Lifting her head, and looking down the distant alley
Soft golden brown, like a Venetian’s hair.—See how they fall!
Cyrano
Ay, see how brave they fall,In their last journey downward from the bough,To rot within the clay; yet, lovely still,Hiding the horror of the last decay,With all the wayward grace of careless flight!
Roxane
What, melancholy—you?
Cyrano
Collecting himself
Nay, nay, Roxane!
Roxane
Then let the dead leaves fall the way they will…And chat. What, have you nothing new to tell,My Court Gazette?
Cyrano
Listen.
Roxane
Ah!
Cyrano
Growing whiter and whiter
SaturdayThe nineteenth: having eaten to excessOf pear-conserve, the King felt feverish;The lancet quelled this treasonable revolt,And the august pulse beats at normal pace.At the Queen’s ball on Sunday thirty scoreOf best white waxen tapers were consumed.Our troops, they say, have chased the Austrians.Four sorcerers were hanged. The little dogOf Madame d’Athis took a dose…
Roxane
I bidYou hold your tongue, Monsieur de Bergerac!
Cyrano
Monday—not much—Claire changed protector.
Roxane
Oh!
Cyrano
Whose face changes more and more
Tuesday, the Court repaired to Fontainebleau.Wednesday, the Montglat said to Comte de Fiesque…No! Thursday—Mancini, Queen of France! (almost!)Friday, the Monglat to Count Fiesque said—‘Yes!’And Saturday the twenty-sixth…
He closes his eyes. His head falls forward. Silence.
Roxane
Surprised at his voice ceasing, turns round, looks at him, and rising, terrified
He swoons!
She runs toward him crying
Cyrano!
Cyrano
Opening his eyes, in an unconcerned voice
What is this?
He sees Roxane bending over him, and, hastily pressing his hat on his head, and shrinking back in his chair
Nay, on my word’Tis nothing! Let me be!
Roxane
But…
Cyrano
That old woundOf Arras, sometimes,—as you know…
Roxane
Dear friend!
Cyrano
’Tis nothing, ’twill pass soon;
He smiles with an effort
See!—it has passed!
Roxane
Each of us has his wound; ay, I have mine,—Never healed up—not healed yet, my old wound!
She puts her hand on her breast
’Tis here, beneath this letter brown with age,All stained with tear-drops, and still stained with blood.
Twilight begins to fall.
Cyrano
His letter! Ah! you promised me one dayThat I should read it.
Roxane
What would you?—His letter?
Cyrano
Yes, I would fain,—to-day…
Roxane
Giving the bag hung at her neck
See! here it is!
Cyrano
Taking it
Have I your leave to open?
Roxane
Open—read!
She comes back to her tapestry frame, folds it up, sorts her wools.
Cyrano
Reading
‘Roxane, adieu! I soon must die!This very night, beloved; and IFeel my soul heavy with love untold.I die! No more, as in days of old,My loving, longing eyes will feastOn your least gesture—ay, the least!I mind me the way you touch your cheekWith your finger, softly, as you speak!Ah me! I know that gesture well!My heart cries out!—I cry “Farewell”!’
Roxane
But how you read that letter! One would think…
Cyrano
Continuing to read
‘My life, my love, my jewel, my sweet,My heart has been yours in every beat!’
The shades of evening fall imperceptibly.
Roxane
You read in such a voice—so strange—and yet—It is not the first time I hear that voice!
She comes nearer very softly, without his perceiving it, passes behind his chair, and, noiselessly leaning over him, looks at the letter. The darkness deepens.
Cyrano
‘Here, dying, and there, in the land on high,I am he who loved, who loves you,—I…’
Roxane
Putting her hand on his shoulder
How can you read? It is too dark to see!
He starts, turns, sees her close to him. Suddenly alarmed, he holds his head down. Then in the dusk, which has now completely enfolded them, she says, very slowly, with clasped hands
And, fourteen years long, he has played this partOf the kind old friend who comes to laugh and chat.
Cyrano
Roxane!
Roxane
’Twas you!
Cyrano
No, never; Roxane, no!
Roxane
I should have guessed, each time he said my name!
Cyrano
No, it was not I!
Roxane
It was you!
Cyrano
I swear!
Roxane
I see through all the generous counterfeit—The letters—you!
Cyrano
No.
Roxane
The sweet, mad love-words!You!
Cyrano
No!
Roxane
The voice that thrilled the night—you, you!
Cyrano
I swear you err.
Roxane
The soul—it was your soul!
Cyrano
I loved you not.
Roxane
You loved me not?
Cyrano
’Twas he!
Roxane
You loved me!
Cyrano
No!
Roxane
See! how you falter now!
Cyrano
No, my sweet love, I never loved you!
Roxane
Ah!Things dead, long dead, see! how they rise again!—Why, why keep silence all these fourteen years,When, on this letter, which he never wrote,The tears were your tears?
Cyrano
Holding out the letter to her
The bloodstains were his.
Roxane
Why, then, that noble silence,—kept so long—Broken to-day for the first time—why?
Cyrano
Why?…
Le Bret and Ragueneau enter running.