Act 1 — SCENE III.
Charles Renauld translation
The same, except LIGNIÈRE; GUICHE, VALVERT, then MONTFLEURY.
SECOND MARQUIS (seeing Guiche, as he comes from Roxane's box, crossing the pit, surrounded with fawning friends, among whom Valvert).
Guiche! Ff! Another Gascon!
FIRST MARQUIS.
Yes, of the cool and supple breed, the one that thrives. We had better greet him, believe me.
(Both go up to meet Guiche. General salutations.)
SECOND MARQUIS.
Beautiful ribbons! What colour, Count? "Kiss-me-darling," or "roe's-breast?"
GUICHE.
Colour? "Sickly-Spaniard."
FIRST MARQUIS.
The colour is fast and true; for soon, thanks to your valor, the Spaniard will be worse than uneasy in Flanders!
GUICHE.
I am going to my seat on the stage. Are you coming?
(He and his followers walk up on to the stage. Guiche turns and calls.)
Come along, Valvert!
CHRISTIAN (who has heard, starting).
That viscount! Now I'll fling at him!....
(Puts his hand to his pocket and finds there the hand of a thief.)
(holding on to the pickpocket).
I was looking for a glove!
PICKPOCKET (smiling).
And you find a hand. (Aside and rapidly.) Let me go and I'll tell you a secret.
CHRISTIAN (still holding him).
What secret?
PICKPOCKET.
Lignière, who has just left you, is going to his death. A song of his gave offence to.... some great man, and one hundred men, I know it, will lie in wait for him to-night....
CHRISTIAN (still holding on).
One hundred! Paid by whom?
PICKPOCKET.
Discretion....
CHRISTIAN (shrugging his shoulders).
Oh!
PICKPOCKET (with great dignity).
Professional discretion....
CHRISTIAN.
Where?
PICKPOCKET.
At the Porte de Nesle, his way home. Warn him in time.
CHRISTIAN (freeing the pickpocket).
Where can I find Lignière?
PICKPOCKET.
In one of the taverns near here: "The Golden Wine-Press," "The Fir-Cone," "The Bursting-Belt," "The Two Torches," "The Three Funnels." Go the rounds and leave a note in each.
CHRISTIAN.
I'll do it! The wretches! A hundred men against one! (Looking up toward Roxane.) But to leave her! (With a look of fury toward Valvert.) And him! But I must save Lignière!
(He rushes out. Guiche and his followers have gone on to the stage behind the curtain, to take their seats. The pit is full; so are the galleries and boxes.)
THE AUDIENCE.
The play! The play! Curtain!
TRADESMAN (whose wig flies up hooked by one of the pages above).
My wig! (Shaking his fist at the pages.) Scoundrels!
(All the audience laughs. Sudden silence.)
LE BRET (astonished).
What is it?
TRADESMAN (near Le Bret).
The Cardinal.... there.... in a screened box.
A PAGE.
Good-bye, fun! (Raps on the stage. Order in the audience. Wait.)
A MARQUIS (behind the curtain, during silence).
Snuff that candle!
OTHER MARQUIS (passing through the split in the curtain).
A chair, please!
(A chair is passed, from hand to hand, over the heads of the audience. The marquis takes it and disappears behind the curtain, after sending a few kisses up into the boxes.)
(Three raps on the stage. Curtain is drawn aside. Tableau. Marquises seated on either side of the stage, in impertinent attitudes. Drop represents a bluish pastoral scene. Low music by the violins.)
LE BRET (aside to Ragueneau).
Montfleury comes in at once, does he not?
RAGUENEAU (aside to Le Bret).
Yes. Monsieur de Cyrano is not here, and I have lost my bet.
LE BRET.
I am glad of it.
(A bag-pipe air, and Montfleury appears, a very powerful man in a poetic shepherd's dress: his hat ornamented with roses and his bag-pipe with ribbons.)
THE PIT (applauding).
Bravo, Montfleury! Montfleury!
MONTFLEURY (after bowing, begins his part of Phédon).
"Oh! happy he who far from courts, in solitude,[7] Self-banished, has cast off the chains of servitude, And who, when zephyr sighs and rustles through the leaves...."
A VOICE IN THE PIT.
You rascal, did I not suspend you for a month?
(Astonishment. Everybody eager to see who spoke. Murmurs.)
SEVERAL OF THE AUDIENCE.
What? What is it? Who? Why?
(People in the boxes rise, to see better.)
CUIGY.
It's he!
LE BRET (frightened).
Cyrano!
THE VOICE IN THE PIT.
King of clowns, get off the stage!
THE HOUSE.
Oh!
MONTFLEURY.
But....
THE VOICE IN THE PIT.
You recalcitrate?[8]
VOICES IN THE PIT (and in the boxes).
Silence! Enough! Go on, Montfleury! Montfleury, have no fear!....
MONTFLEURY (in shaking tone).
"Oh! happy he who far from courts, in sol...."
THE VOICE IN THE PIT (more threatening).
Well, you king of knaves, shall I be forced to plant a grove of these upon your shoulders?
(A stick is seen to rise in the pit.)
MONTFLEURY (in still weaker tones).
"Oh! happy he...."
(The stick is shaken threateningly.)
THE VOICE IN THE PIT.
Get off, I say!
THE PIT.
Oh!
MONTFLEURY (almost breathless).
"Oh! happy he who far ...."
CYRANO (in the pit, standing on his chair, arms folded, hat cocked on the side of his head, his mustache bristling and his nose terrible).
I am going to let my temper loose!
(Excitement in the audience.)