AN ACTRESS [in the costume of soubrette] Tiens, that was nice!.
CYRANO Was it not, soubrette?
THE SOUBRETTE [to the others] But why are they, a hundred, all against one poor poet?
CYRANO Let us start! [To the OFFICERS.] And you, gentlemen, when you see me attack, whatever you may suppose to be my danger, do not stir to second me!
ANOTHER OF THE ACTRESSES [jumping from the stage] Oh, I will not miss seeing this!
CYRANO Come!
ANOTHER ACTRESS [likewisejumping from the stage, to an elderly actor] Cassandre, will you not come?
CYRANO Come, all of you! the Doctor, Isabel, Leander, all! and you shall lend, charming fantastic swarm, an air of Italian farce to the Spanish drama in view. Yes, you shall be a tinkling heard above a roar, like bells about a tambourine!
ALL THE WOMEN [in great glee] Bravo! ... Hurry! ... A mantle! ... A hood!
JODELET Let us go!
CYRANO [to the fiddlers] You will favor us with a tune, messieurs the violinists! [The fiddlers fall into the train. The lighted candles which furnished the footlights are seized and distributed. The procession becomes a torchlight procession.]
CYRANO Bravo! Officers, beauty in fancy dress, and, twenty steps ahead ... [he takes the position he describes]. I, by myself, under the feather stuck, with her own hand, by Glory, in my hat! Proud as a Scipio trebly Nasica!29—It is understood? Formal interdiction to interfere with me!—We are ready? One! Two! Three! Doorkeeper, open the door! [The DOORKEEPER opens wide the folding door. A picturesque corner of Old Paris appears, bathed in moonlight.]
CYRANO Ah! ... Paris floats in dim nocturnal mist.... The sloping blueish roofs are washed with moonlight.... A setting, exquisite indeed, offers itself for the scene about to be enacted.... Yonder, under silvery vapor wreathes, like a mysterious magic mirror, glimmers the Seine.... And you shall see what you shall see!
ALL To the Porte de Nesle!
CYRANO [standing on the threshold] To the Porte de Nesle! [Before crossing it, he turns to the SOLIBRETTE.] Were you not asking, mademoiselle, why upon that solitary rhymster a hundred men were set? [He draws his sword, and tranquilly] Because it was well known he is a friend of mine! [Exit.] [To the sound of the violins, by the flickering light of the candles, the procession—LIGNIÈRE staggering at the head, the ACTRESSES arm in arm with the OFFICERS, the players capering behind,—follows out into the night. Curtain.]
ACT TWO
The Cookshop of Poets
RAGUENEAU’S shop, vast kitchen at the corner of Rue St. Honore and Rue de l’Arbre-Sec, which can be seen at the back, through the glass door, gray in the early dawn.
At the left, in front, a counter overhung by a wrought-iron canopy from which geese, ducks, white peacocks are hanging. In large china jars, tall nosegays composed of the simpler flowers, mainly sunflowers. On the same side, in the middle distance, an enormous fireplace, in front of which, between huge andirons, each of which supports a small iron pot, roasting meats drip into appropriate pans.
At the right, door in the front wing. In the middle distance, a staircase leading to a loft, the interior of which is seen through open shutters; a spread table lighted by a small Flemish candelabrum, shows it to be an eating-room. A wooden gallery continuing the stairway, suggests other similar rooms to which it may lead.
In the center of the shop, an iron hoop—which can be lowered by means of a rope,—to which large roasts are hooked.
In the shadow, under the stairway, ovens are glowing. Copper molds and saucepans are shining; spits turning, hams swinging, pastry pyramids showing fair. It is the early beginning of the workday. Bustling of hurried scullions, portly cooks and young cook’s-assistants; swarming of caps decorated with hen feathers and guinea-fowl wings. Wicker crates and broad sheets of tin are brought in loaded with brioches and tarts.
There are tables covered with meats and cakes; others, surrounded by chairs, await customers. In a corner, a smaller table, littered with papers. At the rise of the curtain,
RAGUENEAU is discovered seated at this table, writing with an inspired air, and counting upon his fingers.
SCENE I
FIRST PASTRYCOOK [bringing in a tall molded pudding] Nougat of fruit!
SECOND PASTRYCOOK [bringing in the dish he names] Custard!
THIRD PASTRYCOOK [bringing in a fowl roasted in its feathers] Peacock!
FOURTH PASTRYCOOK [bringing in a tray of cakes] Mince-pies!
FIFTH PASTRYCOOK [bringing in a deep earthen dish] Beef stew!
RAGUENEAU [laying down his pen, and looking up] Daybreak already plates with silver the copper pans! Time, Ragueneau, to smother within thee the singing divinity! The hour of the lute will come anon—now is that of the ladle! [He rises, speaking to one of the cooks.] You, sir, be so good as to lengthen this gravy,—it is too thick! THE COOK How much?
RAGUENEAU Three feet. [Goesfurther.]
THE COOK What does he mean?
FIRST PASTRYCOOK Let me have the tart!
SECOND PASTRYCOOK The dumpling!
RAGUENEAU [standing before the fireplace] Spread thy wings, Muse, and fly further, that thy lovely eyes may not be reddened at the sordid kitchen fire! [To one of the cooks, pointing at some small loaves of bread. ] You have improperly placed the cleft in those loaves; the cæsura belongs in the middle,—between the hemistichs!30 [To another of the COOKS, pointing at an unfinished pasty.] This pastry palace requires a roof! [To a young cook’s-apprentice, who, seated upon the floor, is putting fowls on a spit.] And you, on that long spit, arrange, my son, in pleasing alternation, the modest pullet and the splendid turkey-cock,—even as our wise Malherbe31 alternated of old the greater with the lesser lines, and so with roasted fowls compose a poem!
ANOTHER APPRENTICE [coming forward with a platter covered by a napkin] Master, in your honor, see what I have baked.... I hope you are pleased with it!
RAGUENEAU [ecstatic] A lyre!
THE APPRENTICE Of pie-crust!
RAGUENEAU [touched] With candied fruits!
THE APPRENTICE And the strings, see,—of spun sugar!
RAGUENEAU [giving him money] Go, drink my health! [Catching sight of LISE who is entering.] Hush! My wife! ... Move on, and hide that money. [To LISE, showing her the lyre, with a constrained air.] Fine, is it not?
LISE Ridiculous! [She sets a pile of wrapping-paper on the counter.]
RAGUENEAU Paper bags? Good. Thanks. [He examines them.] Heavens! My beloved books! The masterpieces of my friends,—dismembered, —torn!—to fashion paper bags for penny pies!—Ah, the abominable case is re-enacted of Orpheus and the Mænads!32
LISE [drily) And have I not an unquestionable right to make what use I can of the sole payment ever got from your paltry scribblers of uneven lines?
RAGUENEAU Pismire!‡ Forbear to insult those divine, melodious crickets!
LISE Before frequenting that low crew, my friend, you did not use to call me a Mænad,—no, nor yet a pismire!
RAGUENEAU Put poems to such a use!
LISE To that use and no other!
RAGUENEAU If with poems you do this, I should like to know, Madame, what you do with prose!
SCENE II
The Same
[Two children have come into the shop.]
RAGUENEAU What can I do for you, little ones?
FIRST CHILD Three patties.
RAGUENEAU [waiting on them] There you are! Beautifully browned, and piping hot.
SECOND CHILD Please, will you wrap them for us?
RAGUENEAU [starting, aside] There goes one of my bags! [To the children.] You want them wrapped, do you? [He takes one of the paper bags, and as he is about to put in the patties, reads.] “No otherwise, Ulysses, from Penelope departing....” Not this one! [He lays it aside and takes another. At the moment of putting in the patties, he reads.] “Phœbus of the aureate locks...” Not that one! [Same business.]
LISE [out of patience] Well, what are you waiting for?
RAGUENEAU Here we are. Her
e we are. Here we are. [He takes a third bag and resigns himself.] The sonnet to Phyllis! ... It is hard, all the same.
LISE It is lucky you made up your mind. [Shrugging her shoulders.] Nicodemus!33 [She climbs on a chair and arranges dishes on a sideboard. ]
RAGUENEAU [taking advantage of her back being turned, calls back the children who had already reached the door] Psst! ... Children! Give me back the sonnet to Phyllis, and you shall have six patties instead of three! [The children give back the paper bag, joyfully take the patties and exeunt. RAGUENEAU smoothes out the crumpled paper and reads declaiming.] “Phyllis!” ... Upon that charming name, a . grease-spot! ... “Phyllis!” ... [Enter brusquely CYRANO.]
SCENE III
Cyrano, Lise, Ragueneau, then the Mousquetaire
CYRANO What time is it?
RAGUENEAU [bowing with eager deference] Six o’clock.
CYRANO [with emotion] In an hour! [He comes and goes in the shop.]
RAGUENEAU [following him] Bravo! I too was witness....
CYRANO Of what?
RAGUENEAU Your fight.
CYRANO Which?
RAGUENEAU At the Hotel de Bourgogne.
CYRANO [with disdain] Ah, the duel!
RAGUENEAU [admiringly] Yes,—the duel in rhyme.
LISE He can talk of nothing else.
CYRANO Let him! ... It does no harm.
RAGUENEAU [thrusting with a spit he has seized] “At the last line, I hit!” “At the last line I hit!”—How fine that is! [With growing enthusiasm .] “At the last line, I—
CYRANO What time, Ragueneau?
RAGUENEAU [remaining fixed in the attitude of thrusting, while he looks at the clock] Five minutes past six.—“I hit!” [He recovers from his duelling posture.] Oh, to be able to make a ballade!
LISE [to CYRANO, who in passing her counter has absentmindedly shaken hands with her] What ails your hand?
CYRANO Nothing. A scratch.
RAGUENEAU You have been exposed to some danger?
CYRANO None whatever.
LISE [shaking her finger at him] I fear that is a fib!
CYRANO From the swelling of my nose? The fib in that case must have been good-sized.... [In a different tone.] I am expecting some one. You will leave us alone in here.
RAGUENEAU But how can I contrive it? My poets shortly will be coming ...
LISE [ironically] For breakfast!
CYRANO When I sign to you, you will clear the place of them.—What time is it?
RAGUENEAU It is ten minutes past six.
CYRANO [seating himself nervously at RAGUENEAU’s table and helping himself to paper] A pen?
RAGUENEAU [taking one from behind his ear, and offering it] A swan’s quill.
A MOUSQUETAIRE [with enormous moustachios, enters; in a stentorian voice] Good-morning! [LISE goes hurriedly to him, toward the back.]
CYRANO [turning] What is it?
RAGUENEAU A friend of my wife’s,—a warrior,—terrible, from his own report.
CYRANO [taking up the pen again, and waving RAGUENEAU away] Hush! ... [To himself.] Write to her, ... fold the letter, ... hand it to her, ... and make my escape.... [Throwing, down the pen.] Coward! ... But may I perish if I have the courage to speak to her, ... to say a single word.... [To RAGUENEAU.] What time is it?
RAGUENEAU A quarter past six. CYRANO [beating his breast] A single word of all I carry here! ... Whereas in writing ... [He takes up the pen again.] Come, let us write it then, in very deed, the love-letter I have written in thought so many times, I have but to lay my soul beside my paper, and copy! [He writes.]
SCENE IV
Ragueneau, Lise, the Mousquetaire, Cyrano, writing at the little table; the Poets, dressed in black, their stocking sagging and covered in mud
[Beyond the glass-door, shadowy lank hesitating shabby forms are seen moving. Enter the poets, clad in black, with hanging hose, sadly mud-splashed.]
LISE [coming forward, to RAGUENEAU] Here they come, your scare-crows !
FIRST POET [entering, to RAGUENEAU] Brother in art! ...
SECOND POET [shaking both RAGUENEAU’s hands] Dear fellow-bard....
THIRD POET Eagle of pastrycooks, [sniffs the air], your eyrie smells divine!
FOURTH POET Phœbus34 turned baker!
FIFTH POET Apollo35 master-cook!
RAGUENEAU [surrounded, embraced, shaken by the hand] How at his ease a man feels at once with them!
FIRST POET The reason we are late, is the crowd at the Porte de Nesle!
SECOND POET Eight ugly ruffians, ripped open with the sword, lie weltering on the pavement.
CYRANO [raising his head a second] Eight? I thought there were only seven. [Goes on with his letter.]
RAGUENEAU [to CYRANO] Do you happen to know who is the hero of this event?
CYRANO [negligently] I? ... No.
LISE [to the MOUSQUETAIRE] Do you?
THE MOUSQUETAIRE [turning up the ends of his moustache] Possibly!
CYRANO writing; from time to time he is heard murmuring a word or two,] ... “I love you...”
FIRST POET A single man, we were told, put a whole gang to flight!
SECOND POET Oh, it was a rare sight! The ground was littered with pikes, and cudgels ...
CYRANO [writing] “Your eyes ...”
THIRD POET Hats were strewn as far as the Goldsmiths’ square!
FIRST POET Sapristi! He must have been a madman of mettle....
CYRANO [as above] “... your lips ...”
FIRST POET An infuriate giant, the doer of that deed!
CYRANO [same business] “... but when I see you, I come near to swooning with a tender dread ...”
SECOND POET [snapping up a tart] What have you lately written, Ragueneau?
CYRANO [same business] “... who loves you devotedly...” [In the act of signing the letter, he stops, rises, and tucks it inside his doublet.] No need to sign it, I deliver it myself.
RAGUENEAU [to SECOND POET] I have rhymed a recipe.
THIRD POET [establishing himself beside a tray of cream puffs] Let us hear this recipe!
FOURTH POET [examining a brioche of which he has possessed himself] It should not wear its cap so saucily on one side ... it scarcely looks well! ... [Bites off the top.]
FIRST POET See, the spice-cake there, ogling a susceptible poet with eyes of almond under citron brows! ... [He takes the spice-cake. ]
SECOND POET We are listening!
THIRD POET [slightly squeezing a cream puff between his fingers] This puff creams at the mouth.... I water!
SECOND POET [taking a bite out of the large pastry lyre] For once the Lyre will have filled my stomach!
RAGUENEAU [who has made ready to recite, has coughed, adjusted his cap, struck an attitude] A recipe in rhyme!
SECOND POET [to FIRST POET, nudging him] Is it breakfast, with you?
FIRST POET [to SECOND POET] And with you, is it dinner?
RAGUENEAU How Almond Cheese-Cakes should be made.
Briskly beat to lightness due,
Eggs, a few;
With the eggs so beaten, beat—
Nicely strained for this same use,—
Lemon-juice,
Adding milk of almonds, sweet.
With fine pastry dough, rolled flat,
After that,
Line each little scallopped mold;
Round the sides, light-fingered, spread
Marmalade;
Pour the liquid eggy gold,
Into each delicious pit;
Prison it
In the oven,—and, bye and bye,
Almond cheesecakes will in gay
Blond array
Bless your nostril and your eye!
THE POETS [their mouths full] Exquisite! ... Delicious!
ONE OF THE POETS [choking] Humph! [They go toward the back, eating. CYRANO, who has been watching them, approaches RAGUENEAU.]
CYRANO While you recite your works to them, have you a notion how they stuff?
RAGUENEAU [low, with
a smile] Yes, I see them ... without looking, lest they should be abashed. I get a double pleasure thus from saying my verses over: I satisfy a harmless weakness of which I stand convicted, at the same time as giving those who have not fed a needed chance to feed!
CYRANO [slapping him on the shoulder] You, ... I like you! [RAGUENEAU joins his friends. CYRANO looks after him; then, somewhat sharply.] Hey, Lise! (LISE, absorbed in tender conversation with the MOUSQUETAIRE, starts and comes forward toward CYRANO.] Is that captain ... laying siege to you?
LISE [offended] My eyes, sir, have ever held in respect those who meant hurt to my character....
CYRANO For eyes so resolute ... I thought yours looked a little languishing!
LISE [choking with anger] But ...
CYRANO [bluntly] I like your husband. Wherefore, Madame Lise, I say he shall not be sc ... horned!36
LISE But ...
CYRANO [raising his voice so as to be heard by the MOUSQUETAIRE] A word to the wise! [He bows to the MOUSQUETAIRE, and after looking at the clock, goes to the door at the back and stands in watch.]
LISE [to the MOUSQUETAIRE, who has simply returned CYRANO’s bow] Really ... I am astonished at you.... Defy him ... to his face!
THE MOUSQUETAIRE To his face, indeed! ... to his face! ... [He quickly moves off. LISE follows him.]
CYRANO [from the door at the back, signalling to RAGUENEAU that he should clear the room] Pst! ...
RAGUENEAU [urging the POETS toward the door at the right] We shall be much more comfortable in there....
CYRANO [impatiently] Pst! ... Pst! ...
RAGUENEAU [driving along the POETS] I want to read you a little thing of mine....
FIRST POET [despairingly, his mouth full] But the provisions....
SECOND POET Shall not be parted from us! [They follow RAGUENEAU in procession, after making a raid on the eatables.]
SCENE V
Cyrano, Roxane, the Duenna
CYRANO If I feel that there is so much as a glimmer of hope ... I will out with my letter! ... [ROXANE, masked, appears behind the glass door, followed by the DUENNA.]