Act 1 — SCENE II.
Charles Renauld translation
The same, CHRISTIAN, LIGNIÈRE, then RAGUENEAU and LE BRET.
CUIGY.
Why, here's Lignière!
BRISSAILLE (laughing).
And not yet drunk?....
LIGNIÈRE (aside to Christian).
Shall I present you?
(Christian nods assent. Lignière presents.)
Baron de Neuvillette.
(General salutations.)
THE AUDIENCE (as the first chandelier goes up).
Ah!....
CUIGY (to Brissaille, looking at Christian).
A beautiful head!
FIRST MARQUIS (who has overheard).
Oh! so, so!....
LIGNIÈRE (presenting to Christian).
Mr. de Cuigy, Mr. de Brissaille.
CHRISTIAN (bowing).
Delighted!
FIRST MARQUIS (to second).
He is good looking, but not dressed according to the latest fashion.
LIGNIÈRE (to Cuigy).
Baron de Neuvillette has just arrived from Touraine.
CHRISTIAN.
Yes, I've been in Paris only a few days. To-morrow I join the guards, the Cadets.
FIRST MARQUIS (looking up to the boxes).
There is the wife of President Aubry.
THE WAITING-GIRL.
Oranges, milk ....
THE VIOLINS (tuning).
La, la, la, la, la.
CUIGY (to Christian, looking around).
Quite an assemblage!
CHRISTIAN.
Yes, indeed!
FIRST MARQUIS.
The cream of fashion.
(He seems to give the names of the different ladies who occupy the boxes, in full dress. Bows, nods, answers, smiles.)
SECOND MARQUIS.
Mesdames de Guéménée....
CUIGY.
De Bois-Dauphin....
FIRST MARQUIS.
Whom we loved ....
BRISSAILLE.
De Chavigny ....
SECOND MARQUIS.
For whom our hearts are toys!
LIGNIÈRE.
There is Monsieur de Corneille, just from Rouen.
TRADESMAN'S SON (to his father).
The Academy is here?....
TRADESMAN.
I see several of its members. Here are Boudu, Boissat, Cureau de la Chambre, Porchères, Colomby, Bourzeys, Bourdon, Arbaud .... So many names that can never die! How grand!
FIRST MARQUIS.
Attention! here are our lovely "précieuses,"[3] they of wondrous names: Barthénoïde, Urimédonte, Cassandace, Félixérie ....
SECOND MARQUIS.
Delightful names! Marquis, you know them all?
FIRST MARQUIS.
I know them all, Marquis.
LIGNIÈRE (aside to Christian).
I came in to do you service. The lady comes not. So I return to my tavern.
CHRISTIAN (imploringly).
Do not. You, who in your songs depict both town and court, can tell me the name of one for whom I am dying of love. Remain!
(The violins begin to play.)
I fear she may be something of a coquette and too subtle in her refinement. I dare not speak to her, for my wit is dull and the language of to-day confuses me. I am but a good soldier. She generally occupies that box to the right—that empty one.
LIGNIÈRE (as if to leave).
I must go.
CHRISTIAN (holding him).
Remain, please.
LIGNIÈRE.
I cannot. D'Assoucy expects me at the tavern. One might die of thirst here.
WAITING-GIRL (passing).
Lemonade!
LIGNIÈRE.
Fie!
WAITING-GIRL.
Milk!
LIGNIÈRE.
Ugh!
WAITING-GIRL.
Wine!
LIGNIÈRE.
(to Christian). (to waiting-girl).
I'll stay a while. Let me taste your wine.
(Takes a seat near the buffet. Waiting-girl serves wine to him.)
SHOUTS IN THE AUDIENCE (on the entrance of a short, plump and jovial looking man).
Here's Ragueneau!
LIGNIÈRE (to Christian).
The celebrated poulterer and pastry-cook!
RAGUENEAU (in his best pastry-cook clothes, going up to Lignière).
Sir, have you seen Monsieur de Cyrano?
LIGNIÈRE (presenting Ragueneau to Christian).
The caterer of comedians and poets!
RAGUENEAU (bowing low).
Flattered, indeed!....
LIGNIÈRE.
Come, come, you Mæcenas!
RAGUENEAU.
They honour me with their custom ....
LIGNIÈRE.
But seldom pay. A good poet himself ....
RAGUENEAU.
They say so.
LIGNIÈRE.
Enthusiastic for verse!
RAGUENEAU.
The fact is that for a short poem ....
LIGNIÈRE.
You willingly give a pie.
RAGUENEAU.
A small tart only!
LIGNIÈRE.
Good fellow, he excuses himself!.... And for a triolet did you not give ....
RAGUENEAU.
Only a few rolls!
LIGNIÈRE (sternly).
Milk-rolls!.... And the stage? You like it?
RAGUENEAU.
I love it.
LIGNIÈRE.
And you buy your way in with your cakes.
RAGUENEAU.
Oh, so few! (Looking around.) But I am surprised not to see Monsieur de Cyrano!
LIGNIÈRE.
Why so?
RAGUENEAU.
Because Montfleury plays!
LIGNIÈRE.
That talking hogshead? True. To-night he plays Phédon. But what cares Cyrano?
RAGUENEAU.
Don't you know? Monsieur de Cyrano has taken an aversion for him, and, gentlemen, has forbidden him to appear on the stage for a whole month.
LIGNIÈRE (emptying his fourth glass).
Well, then?
RAGUENEAU.
Oh! I only came to see what is going to happen.
FIRST MARQUIS (who has come up meanwhile with Cuigy).
Who is this Cyrano?
CUIGY.
A capital swordsman.
SECOND MARQUIS.
Of noble birth?
CUIGY.
Sufficiently so. He is a cadet in the guards.
(Indicating a gentleman who appears to be seeking somebody.)
But here's his friend Le Bret....
(Calling) Le Bret! (Le Bret comes down.)
You are looking for Bergerac?
LE BRET.
Yes, and with some anxiety....
CUIGY.
Am I not right in stating that he is no ordinary man?
LE BRET (moved).
He is the most exquisite of creatures sublunary.
RAGUENEAU.
A rimester!
CUIGY.
A swordsman!
BRISSAILLE.
A scientist!
LE BRET.
A musician!
LIGNIÈRE.
But how strange is his appearance!
RAGUENEAU.
No solemn painter, like Philip de Champaigne, probably, will ever give us a portrait of him. But he is so odd, extravagant, wild and strange, that he could well have served Jacques Callot as a model for the most erratic of his fighting heroes. Three-plumed hat, astounding doublet, cloak whose folds a sword draws up behind, in stateliness, like the saucy tail of a cock.[4] Prouder than the proudest of Gascony's numberless haughty sons, he wears, above his Pulcinella ruff, a nose!.... Ah! mylords, what a nose is that nose! It is impossible, in presence of such a nose-bearer[5] not to think: "This, really, is exaggeration!" Then you will smile, and think: "Of course, he'll take it off." But Monsieur de Bergerac never takes it off.
LE BRET.
Never—but whoever notices that nose he wears is sure to get a swordthrust for the attention.
RAGUENEAU.
His sword is one of the two blades of the fatal sisters' scissors!
FIRST MARQUIS (shrugging his shoulders).
He will not come.
RAGUENEAU.
Oh! yes, he will. I'll bet.... a chicken....à la Ragueneau.
(Murmurs of admiration as Roxane appears in her box, where she takes a seat in front, while her duenna sits behind her. Christian, busy paying the waiter-girl, does not notice her entrance.)
SECOND MARQUIS (affectedly).
Oh! gentlemen, she is frightfully lovely!
FIRST MARQUIS.
A peach divine, smiling in a nest of strawberries.[6]
SECOND MARQUIS.
So refreshing that she might give one a cold in the heart!
CHRISTIAN (perceiving Roxane, and clutching Lignière's arm).
It's she!
LIGNIÈRE (looking up).
So this is your deity!
CHRISTIAN.
Yes, speak quickly. I tremble.
LIGNIÈRE (slowly sipping his wine).
Magdeleine Robin, otherwise Roxane. Refined and quick. A "précieuse."
CHRISTIAN.
Alas!
LIGNIÈRE.
Independent. An orphan. Cousin of Cyrano, whom you heard mentioned just now.
(A gentleman, very finely dressed, wearing a blue ribbon crosswise from shoulder to waist, enters the box, and remains engaged in conversation with Roxane.)
CHRISTIAN (starting).
That man?....
LIGNIÈRE (slightly intoxicated, winking).
Ha, ha! The Count de Guiche. Very much in love with her. But he is the husband of Richelieu's niece. And he is urging Roxane to marry rather a sorry fellow, Monsieur de Valvert, who is both of noble birth and.... accommodating. She resists, but Guiche has influence. I wrote a song on the subject. No doubt he bears me a grudge for it. The end is cutting. Just listen:
(He rises, holding up his glass, ready to sing.)
CHRISTIAN.
No, stop.—I must leave.
LIGNIÈRE.
And you are going?....
CHRISTIAN.
To seek this Valvert.
LIGNIÈRE.
Take care. Perhaps it's he that might kill you. (Indicating Roxane.) See! she is looking at you.
CHRISTIAN.
True. (He remains, looking up as if transfixed. The pickpockets get close around him.)
LIGNIÈRE.
'Tis I who leave. I'm thirsty and I must be expected—in some tavern!
(Exit unsteadily.)
LE BRET (who has been walking, to Ragueneau).
I feel relieved. Cyrano has not come.
RAGUENEAU (incredulous).
I'd be astonished....
THE AUDIENCE.
The play! The play! The play!