Important, how?
He's gone! 'Tis naught! -- Oh, you know how he sees Importance in a trifle!
Did he doubt Of what I said? -- Ah, yes, I saw he doubted!
But are you sure you told him all the truth?
Yes, I would love him were he. . .
[(She hesitates.)]Does that word Embarrass you before my face, Roxane?
I. . .
'Twill not hurt me! Say it! If he were Ugly!. . .
Yes, ugly!
[(Musket report outside)]Hark! I hear a shot!
Hideous!
Hideous! yes!
Disfigured.
Ay!
Grotesque?
He could not be grotesque to me!
You'd love the same?. . .
The same -- nay, even more!
My God! it's true, perchance, love waits me there!
[(To Roxane)]I. . .Roxane. . .listen. . .
Cyrano!
What?
Hush!
[(He whispers something to him.)]Ah, God!
What is it?
All is over now.
[(Renewed reports.)]What is the matter? Hark! another shot!
[(She goes up to look outside.)]It is too late, now I can never tell!
What has chanced?
Nothing!
[(Some cadets enter, trying to hide something they are carrying, and close round it to prevent Roxane approaching.)]And those men?
What were you just about to say before. . .?
What was I saying? Nothing now, I swear!
[(Solemnly)]I swear that Christian's soul, his nature, were. . .
[(Hastily correcting himself)]Nay, that they are, the noblest, greatest. . .
Were?
[(With a loud scream)]Oh!
[(She rushes up, pushing every one aside.)]All is over now!
O Christian!
Struck by first shot of the enemy!
[(Roxane flings herself down by Christian. Fresh reports of cannon -- clash of arms -- clamor -- beating of drums.)]O come! Your muskets.
[(Followed by the cadets, he passes to the other side of the ramparts.)]Christian!
Ho! make haste!
Christian!
FORM LINE!
Christian!
HANDLE YOUR MATCH!
[(Ragueneau rushes up, bringing water in a helmet.)]Roxane!
I told her all. She loves you still.
[(Christian closes his eyes.)]How, my sweet love?
DRAW RAMRODS!
He is not dead?
OPEN YOUR CHARGES WITH YOUR TEETH!
His cheek Grows cold against my own!
READY! PRESENT!
A letter!. . . 'Tis for me!
[(She opens it.)]My letter!
FIRE!
[(Musket reports -- shouts -- noise of battle.)]But, Roxane, hark, they fight!
Stay yet awhile. For he is dead. You knew him, you alone.
[(Weeping quietly)]Ah, was not his a beauteous soul, a soul Wondrous!
Ay, Roxane.
An inspired poet?
Ay, Roxane.
And a mind sublime?
Oh, yes!
A heart too deep for common minds to plumb, A spirit subtle, charming?
Ay, Roxane.
Dead, my love!
Ay, and let me die to-day, Since, all unconscious, she mourns me -- in him!
[(Sounds of trumpets in the distance.)]It is the signal! Trumpet flourishes! The French bring the provisions into camp! Hold but the place awhile!
See, there is blood Upon the letter -- tears!
Surrender!
No!
The danger's ever greater!
I will charge! Take her away!
O God! his tears! his blood!. . .
She's swooned away!
Stand fast!
Lay down your arms!
No!
Now that you have proved your valor, Sir,
[(Pointing to Roxane)]Fly, and save her!
So be it! Gain but time, The victory's ours!
Good.
[(Calling out to Roxane, whom De Guiche, aided by Ragueneau, is bearing away in a fainting condition)]Farewell, Roxane!
[(Tumult. Shouts. Cadets reappear, wounded, falling on the scene. Cyrano, rushing to the battle, is stopped by Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, who is streaming with blood.)]We are breaking! I am wounded -- wounded twice!
GASCONS! HO, GASCONS! NEVER TURN YOUR BACKS!
[(To Carbon, whom he is supporting)]Have no fear! I have two deaths to avenge My friend who's slain; -- and my dead happiness!
[(They come down, Cyrano brandishing the lance to which is attached Roxane's handkerchief)]Float there! laced kerchief broidered with her name!
[(He sticks it in the ground and shouts to the cadets)]FALL ON THEM, GASCONS! CRUSH THEM!
[(To the fifer)]Fifer, play!
[(The fife plays. The wounded try to rise. Some cadets, falling one over the other down the slope, group themselves round Cyrano and the little flag. The carriage is crowded with men inside and outside, and, bristling with arquebuses, is turned into a fortress.)]They're climbing the redoubt!
[(and falls dead.)]Let us salute them!
[(The rampart is covered instantly by a formidable row of enemies. The standards of the Imperialists are raised)]Fire!
[(General discharge.)]Fire!
[(A deadly answering volley. The cadets fall on all sides.)]Who are these men who rush on death?
The bold Cadets of Gascony, Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux! Brawling, swaggering boastfully,
[(He rushes forward, followed by a few survivors)]The bold Cadets. . .
[(His voice is drowned in the battle.)]