Part 8

Your regiment is about to march. Join it immediately!

ROXANE.

Is it going to the war?

GUICHE.

Of course it is.

ROXANE.

But you said, Sir, that the Cadets were not going!

GUICHE.

They shall go!

(_Drawing from his pocket the paper he had put into it._)

Here is the order.

(_to Christian_) Bear it yourself, Baron.

ROXANE (_throwing herself into the arms of Christian_).

Oh! dear Christian!

GUICHE (_chuckling, to Cyrano_).

A still very distant honeymoon!

CYRANO (_aside_).

A fact not so annoying to me as he thinks!

CHRISTIAN (_to Roxane_).

Another kiss! Your lips again!

CYRANO.

Come, that is enough! enough!

CHRISTIAN (_still kissing Roxane_).

It is very hard to leave her.... You do not know....

CYRANO (_endeavouring to draw him away_).

Oh! yes, I do!

(_Drums beating a march, in the distance._)

GUICHE (_who has gone up to the rear_).

The troops are leaving!

ROXANE (_to Cyrano, who is drawing away Christian while she is trying to hold him back_).

Oh!.... I entrust him to you! Promise me that nothing shall endanger his life!

CYRANO.

I shall do my best.... but I can hardly promise....

ROXANE (_still holding on to Christian_).

Promise me that he shall be very prudent!

CYRANO.

I'll try, but as to promising....

ROXANE (_still holding on_).

That during this terrible siege he shall never be cold!

CYRANO.

If it is at all possible, but....

ROXANE (_still holding on_).

That he shall remain true to me!

CYRANO.

Yes! of course! But I cannot....

ROXANE (_still holding on_).

That he shall write to me often!

CYRANO (_halting_).

Oh! that--I promise you!

_CURTAIN._

_ACT IV._

THE CADETS OF GASCONY.

_The post occupied by the Company of Carbon of Haughty-Hall at the siege of Arras. In the rear, an embankment running across the stage. Beyond, a plain, extending as far as the horizon, covered with siege works. In the distance, the walls of the City of Arras, with the outline of its roofs against the sky. Tents; arms strewn around; drums, etc.--Day is about to dawn; gold in the east. Sentinels here and there. Camp fires.--Rolled up in their cloaks the Cadets of Gascony are sleeping. Carbon of Haughty-Hall and Le Bret are watching. They are very pale and thin. Christian is asleep, in front, his face lighted by a fire. Silence._

_SCENE I._

CHRISTIAN, CARBON OF HAUGHTY-HALL, LE BRET, THE CADETS, _later_ CYRANO.

LE BRET.

It's awful!

CARBON.

Yes, nothing left to eat.

LE BRET.

Mordious!

CARBON (_motioning to him to speak lower_).

Deaden your oaths! or you'll wake the men.

(_to the Cadets_).

Sleep on!

(_to Le Bret_).

He who sleeps eats!

LE BRET.

Yes, but waking starves!

(_A few musket reports are heard in the distance._)

CARBON.

Confound the muskets!.... They'll wake up my children.

(_to several of the Cadets who lift up their heads_).

Sleep!

(_More musketry, nearer_).

A CADET (_tossing_).

The Devil! again?

CARBON.

It's nothing! Only Cyrano coming back!

(_The lifted heads lie down again._)

A SENTINEL (_outside_).

Who goes there?

CYRANO (_outside_).

Bergerac!

A SENTINEL (_on the embankment_).

Ventrebieu! who goes there?

CYRANO.

Bergerac, you idiot!

(_He comes down and is met by Le Bret._)

LE BRET.

What, you! wounded?

CYRANO (_raising his hand_).

Hush! You know that they miss me regularly every morning.

LE BRET.

What! risk your life thus, every day, just to carry a letter without the camp! That is going too far.

CYRANO (_stopping in front of Christian_).

I promised that he would write often!

(_looking at him_).

He sleeps. How pale! If sweet Roxane knew that he is starving! But he has not lost his good looks.

LE BRET.

Go get some sleep!

CYRANO.

Don't growl, Le Bret!.... Remember this: To pass through the Spanish lines, I long ago selected a place where they are invariably drunk.

LE BRET.

Why don't you once bring back some provisions?

CYRANO.

A load would not leave me light enough to pass through. But there is going to be a change. We, the French, shall soon eat.... or die,--if my eyes did not deceive me....

LE BRET.

How soon?

CYRANO.

You'll see!.... I'm not sure enough to speak.

CARBON.

Isn't it shameful that the besiegers should be the ones to starve!

LE BRET.

An extraordinary siege this! We are besieging Arras, and the Spanish are besieging us.

CYRANO.

Somebody should come now to besiege the Spanish.

LE BRET.

Do not joke so.--When I think that a life, precious as yours is, can be risked daily just to carry....

(_Cyrano walks toward one of the tents._)

Where are you going?

CYRANO.

I am going to write another letter.

(_Enters tent._)

_SCENE II._

_The same, less_ CYRANO.

_Day is dawning. Rosy tints in the sky, and golden ones on the distant city. A gun is heard, then drums beat in the distance, to the left. Other drums are heard, successively, nearer, and nearer, until they sound on the stage, the noise then receding gradually, toward the right. Awakening of the Camp. Officers' commands in the distance._

CARBON (_sighing_).

Reveille!.... Alas!

(_the Cadets begin rising._)

Their dream of dinner is finished.... I know what their cry will be now.

A CADET (_rising_).

I'm hungry!

ANOTHER CADET.

I'm half dead!

OTHER CADETS.

We are dead! quite!

CARBON.

Get up!

SEVERAL CADETS.

Can't!

FIRST CADET (_using his breastplate as a looking-glass_).

My tongue is yellow. Indigestion!

ANOTHER CADET.

As to me, if my gastric organ gets not wherewith to produce a pint of chyle, I'll retire into my tent--like Achilles.

SEVERAL CADETS.

Bread! Something to eat! Now!

CARBON (_going to the tent of Cyrano and speaking low to him_).

Cyrano, help! Come with your ready wit, and put some life into them. Give them new courage.

A CADET (_to another who is chewing something_).

What are you nibbling at?

THE OTHER CADET.

Cannon wad fried in axle grease! There is but little game around Arras.

ANOTHER CADET (_entering_).

I've been out shooting.

STILL ANOTHER CADET (_likewise entering_).

And I've been fishing in the Scarpe.

ALL THE CADETS (_rushing up to them_).

What have you killed? What have you caught?--A pheasant?--A carp?--Quick, quick, show them!

THE FISHERMAN.

A gudgeon!

THE HUNTSMAN.

A sparrow!

ALL THE CADETS (_exasperated_).

Enough, enough! too much!--let us mutiny!

CARBON.

Help, Cyrano.

(_Daylight has come._)

_SCENE III._

_The same_, CYRANO.

CYRANO (_leaving his tent, perfectly tranquil, a pen over his ear, book in hand_).

Hey!....

(_Silence. To the first Cadet_).

What makes you drag your feet along so?

THE CADET.

Something in my heels that should not be there!....

CYRANO.

What's that?

THE CADET.

My stomach!

CYRANO.

Mine's the same. What of it?

THE CADET.

Isn't it inconvenient?

CYRANO.

No, it heightens me.

SECOND CADET.

My teeth are very long.

CYRANO.

Well, you can bite off a larger piece.

ANOTHER CADET.

My skin sounds empty.

CYRANO.

We'll use it as a drum, for the charge.

ANOTHER CADET.

There is a humming in my ears.

CYRANO.

Not that; an empty stomach has no ears. Impossible!

OTHER CADET.

Oh! for something to eat,--with good oil!

CYRANO (_taking off the helmet of the Cadet, in whose hand he places it_).

Eat your salad.

ANOTHER CADET.

What could we find to devour?

CYRANO (_throwing to him the book he holds in his hand_).

The Iliad!

OTHER CADET.

Meanwhile, the Minister in Paris has his four meals a day!

CYRANO.

He ought certainly to send you at least a partridge.

SAME CADET.

Why not? And some wine with it too!

CYRANO.

Richelieu, some Burgundy, if you please!

SAME CADET.

By one of his capuchins!

CYRANO.

The Grey Eminence is so intoxicating!

OTHER CADET.

I'm as hungry as a bear!

CYRANO.

Well, bear it![23]

FIRST CADET (_shrugging his shoulders_).

Forever words, a point!

CYRANO.

A point and words! 'Tis true; and I should like to die--at eve, The sky aglow--as the defender of A noble cause, a soldier and a poet too, With, on my lips, the thrill of daring words, And in my heart a sword's ennobling point!

ALL.

We're hungry!

CYRANO (_crossing his arms_).

So--you think of naught but food! Come up here, then, Bertrandou, with your fife. Seek shepherds' notes, and let these gluttons feast Upon some old and ne'er forgotten tune Each sound of which is like a sister's voice; An air that slowly winds its way aloft, As does the smoke from lowly cottage roofs, A lay of youth, of waiting hearts and home!

(_Bertrandou prepares his fife._)

Let fife a while forget the battle note, Remembering that it was born a reed.

(_Bertrandou begins playing some Gascony airs._)

Ye Gascons, list! 'Tis war no more, but peace. 'Tis hill and dale, 'tis wood and meadow-land, With red-capped lads beside their gentle herds; 'Tis smiling riverbank and sunny sea. O Gascons, hark! You are in Gascony!

(_All have bowed their heads and are dreaming: many brush away a tear._)

CARBON (_to Cyrano, aside_).

But, instead of giving them courage, you make them weep!

CYRANO.

I've made them homesick!.... A noble sort of suffering .... nobler than hunger. It is a comfort to see their pain change organs, and pass from their stomachs to their hearts!

CARBON.

But you will weaken them!

CYRANO (_motioning to a drummer to come up_).

Never mind! The heroes' blood that is in them will soon arouse them!

(_He motions to the drummer, who begins beating his drum._)

ALL THE CADETS (_rushing to their arms_).

Hey!.... What?.... What is it?....

CYRANO (_smiling, to Carbon_).

You see that, at the sound of the drum, dreams, longings, thoughts of home, of love,....all fly away. What comes by the fife goes by the drum.[24]

A CADET (_from the rear_).

Ha! ha! here is Monsieur de Guiche!

ALL THE CADETS (_murmuring_).

Hou....

CYRANO (_smiling_).

Quite complimentary!

A CADET.

He is a bore, with his lace collar over his armour. He comes here to exhibit himself!

OTHER CADET.

As if lace were in keeping with iron!

OTHER CADET.

Good if one has a boil on his neck!

OTHER CADET.

Too much of the courtier!

OTHER CADET.

The nephew of his uncle, the Cardinal.

CARBON.

And still he's a Gascon!

FIRST CADET.

Not a true one!....Beware! Because Gascons, you know, must be madcaps. There is nothing more dangerous than a reasonable Gascon.

LE BRET.

How pale he is!

A CADET.

He is hungry.... Just as much as we poor devils. But his breastplate gives a lustre to his cramps!

CYRANO (_quickly_).

We should not appear to suffer more than he does! Here! all of you, take up your cards, your pipes and your dice....

(_They all rapidly begin playing, on benches, drums, or on their cloaks spread out on the ground, meanwhile lighting long pipes._)

.... and I ... will read Descartes.

(_He walks up and down, reading a small book that he has taken out of his pocket.--Tableau.--Guiche enters; everybody seems busy and satisfied. He is very pale; goes up to Carbon._)

[23] Note.--"Tu croques le marmot" (literally "you are eating the baby") is an allusion to ogres' proverbial taste for infants, coupled with the somewhat slangy meaning: "you are waiting long and impatiently." This in English would be meaningless, and was perforce replaced by what seems to be a fair equivalent.

[24] Note.--A French proverb.

_SCENE IV._

_The same_, GUICHE.

GUICHE (_to Carbon_).

Ha! Good morning!

(_Aside, after looking at Carbon, with satisfaction_). His face is green!

CARBON (_aside_).

There is nothing left of him but his eyes.

GUICHE (_looking at the Cadets_).

So, here are these soreheads!.... Yes, gentlemen, I understand that I am jeered at plentifully here; that cadets, nobility and gentry, barons all, are not over-burdened with respect for their Colonel; that they charge me with intrigue and court-flattery, that my lace collar over my breastplate is an eye-sore to them,--and that it is distressing to them to find that one can be a Gascon and still not out at the elbow!

(_Silence. The Cadets continue to play and smoke._)

Shall I have you punished by your Captain? No.

CARBON.

Well, I am free and I punish only....

GUICHE.

Ah!....

CARBON.

I paid for my company, and it belongs to me. I obey only to war commands.

GUICHE.

Ah!.... Well, that is sufficient.

(_speaking to the Cadets_).

I can afford to scorn your bluster. Everybody knows how I behave under fire. Even yesterday, there were enough witnesses to the spirit with which I routed Count de Bucquoi; leading my people against his men like an avalanche, I charged him three successive times!

CYRANO (_without lifting his eyes from his book_).

How about your white scarf?

GUICHE (_surprised and satisfied_).

You know of this trifle?.... True, it happened, while I was circling to gather my people for the third charge, that a party of runaways forced me too close to the enemy; I was in danger of being taken or shot, when, happily, I bethought me to untie and to drop the scarf that told my rank. In this way, and without attracting notice, I managed to get away from the Spaniards, and to turn back upon them with all my men, beating them terribly!--Now, what do you say to this?

(_The Cadets affect not to listen, but they have stopped playing, and they hold back the smoke of their pipes. A wait._)

CYRANO.

I say that Henry IV, even surrounded by a host of foes, never would have consented to diminish himself by casting off his plume of snowy white.

(_Silent joy. Playing and smoking are resumed._)

GUICHE.

The device was successful, however!

(_Playing and smoking again suspended._)

CYRANO.

Possibly! But who would abdicate the honour of being a target?

(_Playing and smoking resumed. Growing satisfaction._)

Had I been present when the scarf slipped off,--see how ideas of bravery can vary, Sir,--I should have picked it up and put it on.

GUICHE.

Yes, Gascon boasting again!

CYRANO.

Boasting?.... Lend it to me. I offer to hang it on my shoulder and, this very night, to scale with it the enemy's fortifications.

GUICHE.

A Gascon's offer! You know full well that the scarf remained on the enemy's ground, near the river Scarpe, a place so well covered by Spanish guns that nobody can venture there to get it!

CYRANO (_taking a white scarf from his pocket and handing it to Guiche_).

Here it is!

(_Silence. The Cadets restrain their laughter and affect to be very busy playing. Guiche turns and looks at them; they assume an air of great gravity; one of them, in an absent-minded way, half whistles one of the airs the fife played a while before._)

GUICHE (_taking the scarf_).

Thank you! I can use this white fabric to make a signal,--that I hesitated to give.

(_He goes to the embankment and waves the scarf several times._)

ALL.

What is this?

THE SENTINEL (_on the embankment_).

A man, over there, who is running away!....

GUICHE (_coming down from the embankment_).

One who plays the part of a Spanish spy. He is very useful to us; takes over to the enemy information that I give him, so that we can influence their decision.

CYRANO.

He is a blackguard!

GUICHE (_slowly tying on his scarf_).

Yes, but a great convenience. What were we saying?.... Ah!.... I was going to apprise you of something. Last night, in a desperate attempt to revictual us, the Marshal left for Dourlens; he took with him so many men that an attack upon us just now would certainly be successful. Half of the army is away from the camp!

CARBON.

But the Spanish do not know of it.

GUICHE.

Yes, they do. They are going to attack us. My false spy came to tell me of it. He added: "I can have the attack made wherever you prefer." I answered: "Good. Leave the camp and watch it. The point to attack will be the one from which I make a signal to you."

CARBON (_to the Cadets_).

Gentlemen, make ready!

(_The Cadets rise and busy themselves preparing for the fight._)

GUICHE.

The attack will take place in an hour from now.

A FEW CADETS.

Oh!.... that is different!

(_They sit down and resume playing._)

GUICHE (_to Carbon_).

You must gain time, pending the Marshal's return.

CARBON.

And, in order to gain time, what shall we do?

GUICHE.

You will have the goodness to get killed, all of you, in defense of the camp.

CYRANO.

Ah! this is his vengeance!

GUICHE.

I will not pretend that, if I loved you, I should have selected you; but, as your bravery has no equal, by using you I am serving my king as well as my ill-will.

CYRANO.

Allow me, Sir, to be thankful for the honour.

GUICHE.

Oh! I know that you love to fight one against a hundred. You certainly cannot complain, then, that I leave you inactive.

(_He goes toward the rear with Carbon._)

CYRANO (_to the Cadets_).

Well, then we will add to the Gascon coat of arms, proud of its six chevrons of azure and gold, gentlemen, another chevron, still lacking, one of blood!

(_Guiche speaks, aside, with Carbon in the rear. Orders are given. Preparations against attack. Cyrano goes up to Christian, who has remained motionless with folded arms._)

CYRANO (_placing his hand on Christian's shoulder_).

Christian!

CHRISTIAN (_shaking his head_).

Roxane.

CYRANO.

Alas!

CHRISTIAN.

At least, I should like to condense all the loving farewells of my heart into a beautiful letter!....

CYRANO.

I thought it might be for to-day, and....

(_He draws a letter from his doublet_)

.... I have written your farewell.

CHRISTIAN.

Let me see!....

CYRANO.

You desire to?....

CHRISTIAN (_taking the letter_).

Yes, certainly!

(_He opens the letter, reads, and stops._)

What is this?....

CYRANO.

What?

CHRISTIAN.

This little round spot?....

CYRANO (_taking the letter and looking at it with an air of innocence_).

A little round spot?....

CHRISTIAN.

Yes, a tear!

CYRANO.

Oh!.... Yes!.... we poets are caught in our own trap, through the swing of our art. You understand.... this letter,--was heart-rending; I drew tears from my own eyes as I was writing it.

CHRISTIAN.

Tears?....

CYRANO.

Yes.... because.... to die is not so terrible .... but ....never to see her again, that is the torture! for the fact is, I shall never....

(_Christian looks at him._)

We shall never....

(_Quickly_).

You shall never....

CHRISTIAN (_snatching the letter from him_).

Give me the letter!

(_A murmur is heard in the rear._)

A SENTINEL.

Ventrebieu! who goes there?

(_A few musket shots. Voices. Sound of carriage bells._)

CARBON.

What is it?

SENTINEL (_on the embankment_).

A coach!

(_All rush up to look._)

CRIES.

What! In the camp?--Coming in!--It seems to come from the enemy!--Diantre! Fire!--No! the coachman shouted!--Shouted what?--Shouted: "Service of the King."

(_They are all on the embankment, looking into the distance. The sound of carriage bells grows nearer and nearer._)

GUICHE.

What? of the King!....

(_All come down again and form in line._)

CARBON.

Hats off, all!

GUICHE (_to those in the distance_).

Of the King! I said.--Make way, you rabble, so that he can swing around in state.

(_The coach enters on a full trot. It is covered with mud and dust. The curtains are closed. Two lackeys behind. It stops short._)

CARBON (_shouting_).

Salute!

(_Drums beat._)

GUICHE.

Lower the step!

(_Two men advance rapidly. The coach door opens._)

ROXANE (_jumping out of coach_).

How are you all?

(_On hearing a woman's voice, they all, from a profound inclination, suddenly straighten up. Stupor._)

_SCENE V._

_The same_, ROXANE.

GUICHE.

Service of the King! You?

ROXANE.

Certainly, of the only king there is: Love!

CYRANO.

Great God.

CHRISTIAN (_rushing up to her_).

You, Roxane! Wherefor?

ROXANE.

Oh! this siege was entirely too long.

CHRISTIAN.

But the reason?....

ROXANE.

I'll tell you later.

CYRANO (_he has remained motionless, without daring to look at her_).

Heavens! Shall I face her?

GUICHE.

You cannot remain here!

ROXANE (_gayly_).

Oh! yes, I can! Will you be kind enough to bring up a drum?

(_One of the Cadets brings up a drum, on which she sits._)

There! thank you.

(_laughing_).

Do you know that they fired on my coach? It looks like a squash, does it not? As in the fairy tale; and the lackeys like rats.

(_sending a kiss to Christian_).

How are you, dear?

(_looking around at them all_).

You don't seem to be very merry here! I didn't know that Arras was so far off.

(_looking at Cyrano_).

Cousin, delighted!

CYRANO (_advancing_).

Roxane, tell me how?....

ROXANE.

How I managed to find the army? Oh! my dear friend, it was the simplest thing in the world: I drove on so long as I saw the country laid waste. Such horrors must be seen to be believed! If that is the service of your King, gentlemen, my service is a better one.

CYRANO.

Come, this is foolhardiness! How could you pass?

ROXANE.

How? Why! Right through the Spanish army.

FIRST CADET.

Oh! women. They are knowing ones!

GUICHE.

But how could you get through their lines?

LE BRET.

It must have been very difficult!

ROXANE.

Why! No. I just went along, in my coach, on a trot. Whenever one of the Dons showed his haughty face, I put on and displayed through the window my most fascinating smile, and these gentlemen being, whatever the French may say, the most courteous people in the world, I passed!

CARBON.

Yes, you have a most excellent passport in that smile! But you must frequently have been called upon, Madam, to declare whither you were going.

ROXANE.

Oh! yes, quite frequently. I answered simply: "I am going to see my lover."--Immediately the most ferocious Spaniard would gravely close the door of my coach, with a knightly wave of the hand order up the muskets already pointed at me, and, with as much grace as haughtiness, the plume of his hat proudly floating on the breeze, bow low and say: "Pass on, Senorita!"

CHRISTIAN.

But, Roxane....

ROXANE.

I said: My lover. Yes, husband, you must forgive! You will surely understand that, if I had said my husband, nobody would have let me pass!

CHRISTIAN.

But....

ROXANE.

Well, what?

GUICHE.

You must be gone immediately!

ROXANE.

I?

CYRANO.

Yes, and sooner!

CHRISTIAN.

Yes, at once.

ROXANE.

But how can I get away?

CHRISTIAN (_embarrassed_).

The fact is....

CYRANO (_likewise embarrassed_).

In forty-five minutes....

GUICHE (_also embarrassed_).

Or fifty....

CARBON (_embarrassed too_).

It would be preferable....

LE BRET.

You might....

ROXANE.

I remain, for there is going to be fighting.

ALL.

Fighting? Nothing of the kind.

ROXANE (_throwing herself into the arms of Christian_).

He is my husband! And if he is killed, I must be killed too!

CHRISTIAN.

But what is the matter with your eyes?

ROXANE.

I will tell you later!

GUICHE.

But the post is a most dangerous one.

ROXANE (_turning_).

What! So dangerous?

CYRANO.

Yes, and the proof is that he assigned it to us.

ROXANE (_to Guiche_).

So, you desire to make a widow of me?

GUICHE.

I swear to you....

ROXANE.

No! Now I am determined and I will not leave!.... Moreover, it is very exciting.

CYRANO.

What! will the "précieuse" turn out to be a heroine?

ROXANE.

Monsieur de Bergerac, I am your cousin.

A CADET.

Moreover, we will defend you desperately!

ROXANE (_growing more and more excited_).

I believe it, my friends!

ANOTHER CADET (_elated_).

A perfume of iris pervades the camp.

ROXANE.

Just so! I put some on this hat, which will be very becoming in the fray!....

(_looking at Guiche_).

But perhaps it is time the Count should leave: the fight might begin.

GUICHE.

Ah! this is too much! I will inspect the guns and return .... You have a little time left still,....change your mind!

ROXANE.

Never!

(_Exit Guiche._)

_SCENE VI._

_The same, except_ GUICHE.

CHRISTIAN (_supplicating_).

Roxane!....

ROXANE.

No!

FIRST CADET (_to the others_).

She remains!