Act 1 — SCENE IV.
Charles Renauld translation
The same, CYRANO, then BELLEROSE, JODELET.
MONTFLEURY (to the Marquises).
Protect me, gentlemen!
A MARQUIS (languidly).
Play on! Play on!
CYRANO.
Now mind me, corpulence! If you play, I'll have to spank your cheeks.
THE MARQUIS.
Enough! Enough!
CYRANO.
Let the gentlemen remain silent on their benches. Otherwise their ribbons will have a taste of my stick.
ALL THE MARQUISES (rising).
This is too much, indeed! Montfleury!
CYRANO.
Montfleury must go, or I shall crop his ears and disembowel him!
A VOICE.
But ....
CYRANO.
He must go!
ANOTHER VOICE.
We cannot ....
CYRANO.
What! Not gone yet!
(As if he were going to turn up his sleeves).
Then must I go upon the stage to cut up this overgrown sausage into slices?
MONTFLEURY (with an attempt at dignity).
By insulting me, Sir, you insult the Muse Thalia!
CYRANO (with great courtesy).
If the Muse Thalia, with whom you are not related, Sir, had the honour of your acquaintance and saw you so fat and so silly, she would certainly give you a lift with her buskin.
THE PIT.
Montfleury! Montfleury! The play.
CYRANO (to the noisy ones around him).
Have pity on my scabbard! If you continue thus, it will lose control of its blade.
(The circle around him widens.)
(to Montfleury).
Get off the stage!
(The crowd closes in on him, muttering.)
(Turning suddenly).
Any objection made?
(Crowd falls back again.)
A VOICE (in the rear).
Monsieur de Cyrano is a tyrant. "La Clorise" shall be played.
THE AUDIENCE.
"La Clorise!" "La Clorise!"
CYRANO.
If I hear that again, I'll slaughter you all.
TRADESMAN.
You are not Samson!
CYRANO.
I will be, my dear Sir, if you'll lend me your jaw.
A LADY (in one of the boxes).
Disgraceful disturbance!
A GENTLEMAN.
Scandalous!
A PAGE.
Oh! What fun!
THE PIT.
Kss! Kss! Montfleury! Cyrano!
CYRANO.
Silence! Such is my order. I challenge the whole pit! Now for the names! Come up here, young heroes. Take the line, please; I'll distribute numbers. Well, who'll be number one? You, Sir? No! You, then? No! I'll favour number one by prompt attendance. Let any one who desires to die hold up a hand.
(Silence around him.)
Oh! I see. You are prudish and would not like to see a blade naked. Not a name? Not a hand?—Very well, then, I continue.
(Turning again to the stage, on which Montfleury is waiting in agony).
I desire to see the stage cured of a monstrous tumor. And, if necessary, I'll use ... (putting his hand to his sword) a lancet!
MONTFLEURY.
But I ....
CYRANO (gets off his chair and sits down on it, comfortably, with a wide circle around him).
Attention, full moon! I'll clap my hands thrice. The third time, there must be an eclipse.
THE PIT (amused).
Ah! Good!
CYRANO (striking his hands together).
One!
MONTFLEURY.
But I ....
A VOICE (from the boxes).
Stay, Montfleury!
THE PIT.
Will stay, will not! Will stay, will not!
MONTFLEURY.
I believe, gentlemen ....
CYRANO.
Two!
MONTFLEURY.
It would be far better ....
CYRANO.
Three!
(Montfleury disappears as if by magic. General laughter, whistling, etc.)
CYRANO (leaning back in his chair, and crossing his legs).
Let him return if he dares!
THE AUDIENCE.
The company's orator!
(Bellerose advances and bows.)
THE BOXES.
Ah! here is Bellerose!
BELLEROSE (with great elegance).
Noble lords ....
THE PIT.
No! No! Jodelet!
JODELET (with a nasal twang).
Disturbers of the peace! The heavy tragedian whose bulk suits your fancy, felt....
THE PIT.
He is a coward!
JODELET.
Suddenly unwell ... and was compelled to retire.
THE PIT.
Let him return!—No!—Yes!—
A YOUNG MAN (to Cyrano).
But, after all, Sir, what reason is there for your hating Montfleury?
CYRANO (very courteous, still seated).
Young gosling, there are two, either one of which is sufficient in itself. First: he is a bad actor; he rants, and seems to lift with a derrick lines that have wings of their own. Second: but that is my secret.
TRADESMAN (behind Cyrano).
But, Sir, you deprive us of the pleasure of hearing "La Clorise." I insist....
CYRANO (turning in his chair toward the tradesman respectfully).
Venerable mule, Baro's verse is worthless. I interrupt without the slightest remorse.
THE "PRÉCIEUSES" (in the boxes).
Baro! Our Baro! Heavens! Is it possible?
CYRANO (turning his chair to the boxes, with great courtesy).
Fair beings .... Irradiate and bloom, be Hebes, all, Dispensing dream; with smile make death a feast To us——inspire verse.... but judge it not!
BELLEROSE.
How about the money we'll have to return?
CYRANO (turning his chair toward the stage).
Bellerose, you have said the only intelligent thing yet heard to-day. I would not for the world make holes in the cloak of Thespis.
(He rises and throws a small bag upon the stage).
Catch this purse and hold your tongue!
THE AUDIENCE (bewildered).
Ah!.... Oh!....
JODELET (picking up the purse and weighing it).
For the same price, Sir, you may daily prevent the performance of "La Clorise"!....
THE AUDIENCE.
Hu!.... Hu!....
JODELET.
Even if we are to be hooted .... Clear the house!
(The audience begins to leave. Cyrano looks on with great satisfaction. The crowd, however, soon stops as the following discussion begins. The ladies in the boxes, who had already risen to go, and put on their wraps, resume their seats).
LE BRET (to Cyrano).
You are insane!
AN INTRUDER (who has come up to Cyrano).
A comedian like Montfleury! Scandalous! Why! He is a favourite of the Duke de Candale's! What powerful patron have you?
CYRANO.
None!
THE INTRUDER.
No patron?
CYRANO.
No!
THE INTRUDER.
What! no high-born gentleman whose name can shield you?
CYRANO (impatient).
I've said No twice already. A third time: No! I've no protector.... (his hand on his sword) but this!
THE INTRUDER.
You are going to leave town, then?
CYRANO.
Hardly probable.
THE INTRUDER.
But the Duke has a long reach!
CYRANO.
Not so long as mine .... (showing his sword) with this extension! Now, go about your business.
THE INTRUDER.
But allow me....
CYRANO.
Go! Or, rather, tell me why you look so sharply at my nose.
THE INTRUDER (abashed).
What! I....
CYRANO.
Is there anything extraordinary about it?
THE INTRUDER.
Your lordship mistakes....
CYRANO.
Is it soft and swinging like an elephant's trunk?
THE INTRUDER.
I did not say....
CYRANO.
Or crooked like the beak of an owl?
THE INTRUDER.
No; I....
CYRANO.
Is there a wart on the end of it? Or a fly? What's amiss with it? Or is it a phenomenon?
THE INTRUDER.
Why, I didn't even look at it!
CYRANO.
Why shouldn't you look at it? Is it repulsive?
THE INTRUDER.
My dear Sir....
CYRANO.
In colour unhealthy? In shape indecent?
THE INTRUDER.
Not at all!
CYRANO.
Why, then, seem to revile it? Perhaps the gentleman finds it rather large?
THE INTRUDER (stammering).
I find it small, very, very small.
CYRANO.
How small? Ridiculously then? My nose small! Why, my nose is enormous! Remember, vile flat-nose and flat-head, that I am proud of such an appendix! For a large nose properly indicates a man that is affable, kind, courteous, witty, liberal and brave, such as I am, and such as you, miserable knave! can never be; for the inglorious face that my hand is about to seek above your collar is as destitute ..... (he slaps intruder's face).
THE INTRUDER.
Oh!
CYRANO.
Of pride, of flight, of poesy, of picturesqueness, of fire, of magnificence, of Nose, in fact, as the one.... (Cyrano seizes the Intruder by the shoulders and kicks him in the seat) that my boot now reaches at the base of your back.
THE INTRUDER (escaping).
Help! Guards!
CYRANO.
Fair warning, then, to idle lookers on Who criticise the centre of my face! The critic, if a gentleman, will get,— Before he flies,—in front and higher too, My custom's such, some steel instead of leather!
GUICHE (who with the marquises, has come down from the stage).
The gentleman is getting very tiresome!
VICOMTE de VALVERT (shrugging his shoulders).
He is a braggart!
GUICHE.
And no one answers him?....
THE VICOMTE.
No one? Just wait. Such a retort as I'm going to send him!
(He advances toward Cyrano, who has been looking at him, and draws himself up with an air of foppish vanity.)
You.... you have a nose.... hum! a nose, Sir, that is.... very large.
CYRANO (very quietly and seriously).
Very large, indeed!
VICOMTE (laughing).
Ha! Ha!
CYRANO (with great self-possession).
Is that all?
VICOMTE.
Well, I....
CYRANO.
No, no, that's a little too short, young man! You might have said.... Well.... many things.... in different keys. For instance, listen: Aggressive: "I, Sir, had I such a nose, would at once have it amputated."—Friendly: "It must dip into your glass. To drink with comfort, you should have a hanap constructed!"—Descriptive: "It is a rock!... a peak!!.... a headland!!! More than a headland, a whole peninsula!"—Inquisitive: "What may this oblong thing be used for? A writing-desk or a tool-chest?"—Pleasant: "Do you love birds so much that you feel bound to offer them so comfortable a resting place?"—Fierce: "When you use tobacco, Sir, can you emit smoke from that nose without your neighbours' crying that there is a chimney on fire?"—Thoughtful: "Be careful; so much top-hamper might cause you to fall!"—Affectionate: "Have a parasol made for it; the sun might fade its colour!"—Pedantic: "For so much flesh on so much bone beneath the forehead, we must go back, Sir, to the animal Aristophanes calls Hippocampelephantocamelos!"—Flippant: "Why! man, is that the fashion for hooks? Certainly convenient for hanging up a hat!"—Emphatic: "Masterly nose, no wind can make you catch aught but a fractional cold! None but a northern hurricane!"—Dramatic: "When it bleeds, we have the Red Sea!"—Admiringly: "For a perfumer, what a sign!"—Lyric: "Is it a shell trumpet, and are you a triton?"—Innocent: "When is this monument open to visitors?"—Respectful: "This is really owning a mansion with a gable on it!"—Countrylike: "That be not a nose, but a big turnip, or a young melon!"—Military: "Point against cavalry!"—Practical: "Will you put it up in a lottery? It will surely be the largest prize!"—Finally, to parody the grief of Pyramus:
So here we have the nose that on its master came To ruin harmony! The traitor's red for shame!
That is about what you might have said, dear boy, if you had a sprinkling of letters and a bit of humour. Of humour, though, lamentable being, you never had an atom; and, as to letters, you never had but the four that spell the word Fool!—Some invention is requisite for extravagant jests before such an audience, but, even if you had it, you could not have uttered a quarter of the half of the beginning of what I said; for I may be willing to serve such sport myself, but I allow nobody to serve it to me.
GUICHE (endeavouring to lead away the Vicomte).
Vicomte, pay no attention to him!
VICOMTE (overwhelmed).
Such arrogance! An insignificant little squire .... who .... who .... doesn't even wear gloves!....and who sallies forth without ribbons, bows or trimmings!
CYRANO.
'Tis morally I have my elegance, I do not dress as does a fop, but I Am better groomed than some more richly clad. I'd not set forth with traces of neglect About me, say: an insult left unwashed, A conscience still confused and half asleep, My honour soiled, or scruples out of shape. When I proceed, I do so clean and bright, With truthful independence for a plume. 'Tis not my form I lace to hold it up, It is my soul I try to elevate! The ribbons that I wear are only deeds; I twist perhaps my wit like a mustache; But then I cause, as I go through your groups, Above the clash of spurs, the truth to ring!
VICOMTE.
But, Sir ....
CYRANO.
I have no gloves on?.... What matters it? I did have one left from a very old pair! One day I found it somewhat in the way .... and I left it on somebody's face.
VICOMTE.
Knave, puppy, flat-footed ridiculous bully!
CYRANO (taking off his hat and bowing, as if the Vicomte had just presented himself).
Ah! delighted!.... and I: Cyrano, Savinian, Hercules de Bergerac.
(Laughter around.)
VICOMTE (exasperated).
Buffoon!
CYRANO (uttering a cry as if he had a cramp).
Ay!....
VICOMTE (who was leaving, returning).
What is it now?
CYRANO (grinning as if in pain).
I must move it, for it is asleep.... What a mistake to let it remain inactive.... Ay!....
VICOMTE.
What ails you?
CYRANO.
It's my sword that's tingling!
VICOMTE (drawing his sword).
Be it so!
CYRANO.
I'll show you a neat little thrust.
VICOMTE (disdainfully).
Poet!
CYRANO.
Yes, Sir, a poet! So much so that, while we play swords here, I mean—hop!—on the spur of the moment, to improvise for you a ballade.
VICOMTE.
A ballade?
CYRANO.
Yes. I'll wager you do not know what is a ballade.
VICOMTE.
But....
CYRANO (as if reciting a lesson).
Well, then, a ballade is composed of three stanzas of eight lines each....
VICOMTE (stamping impatiently).
Oh!
CYRANO (continuing).
Plus an Envoy of four lines. Twenty-eight lines in all, with only three rimes....
VICOMTE.
You....
CYRANO.
I am going to compose one while fighting, and when I come to the last line, Sir, I'll touch you!
VICOMTE.
You'll not!
CYRANO.
Be sure, I shall!
(Declaiming.)
Ballade of the Duel Between Monsieur de Bergerac and a Coxcomb.
VICOMTE.
What is that, if you please?
CYRANO.
That is the title.
THE AUDIENCE (greatly excited).
Make room there!.... Capital!.... Stand back!.... Be silent!....
(Tableau.—Circle of lookers-on in the pit,—marquises and officers, with the tradesmen and common people. Pages on each others' shoulders for a better view. All the women standing in the boxes. To the right, Guiche and his followers. To the left, Le Bret, Ragueneau, Cuigy, etc.).
CYRANO (closing his eyes for a moment).
Wait....I'm selecting my rimes....There now, I'm ready!
(He does as he says while speaking the verses.)
My hat with grace I cast aside; Next, watch me, please, I slowly free The cloak in which I'm wont to stride; And then I draw my sword, you see. A Celadon[9] you have in me, A Scaramuccia very much; But, pygmy, moderate your glee, For, when I close th' Envoy, I'll touch! 'Twere better you had slept or died. O goose, where shall I puncture thee? Beneath the ribs? Above? Decide! Or through the breast, where ribbons be? The hilts are ringing. One, two, three! My sword, beware! is not a crutch. I'll strike according to decree, For, when I close th' Envoy, I'll touch! I seek in vain a rime in ide. You back—and whiten—let's agree Upon a word, say: trembling hide, So, tac! I parry, just a wee, Your vicious thrust. Now finish we! I open—quart—or something such—— Hold well that spit, you dog, or flee,[10] For, when I close th' Envoy, I'll touch!
(He announces with solemnity).
ENVOY.[11]
Now, Prince, may heaven hear your plea! I follow, though you break and clutch. I cut—I feint—Be ready—Hee! (He lunges.)
(Vicomte staggers; Cyrano bows.)
For now I close th' Envoy.... (pointing to Vicomte) I touch!
(Applause in boxes. Flowers and handkerchiefs are thrown. Officers surround and congratulate Cyrano. Ragueneau dances for joy. Le Bret seems both overjoyed and dejected. The Vicomte's friends support him and bear him off.)
A MUSKETEER (most cordially shaking Cyrano's hand).
Allow an expert to congratulate you, Sir, most heartily.
(He leaves.)
CYRANO (to Cuigy).
Who is this gentleman?
CUIGY.
D'Artagnan!
LE BRET (passing his arm through Cyrano's).
Now let us talk!....
CYRANO.
Wait till the crowd has left.
(to Bellerose).
May we stay a while?
BELLEROSE (to Cyrano).
Certainly, Sir.
(giving orders to Janitor).
Close the house, but do not put out the lights. We'll return after dinner for a rehearsal.
(Jodelet and Bellerose bow to Cyrano, then exeunt.)
JANITOR (to Cyrano).
You are not going to dinner, Sir?
CYRANO.
I?.... No.
(Exit Janitor.)
LE BRET (to Cyrano).
Why not?
CYRANO (proudly).
Because....
(changing his tone, when he sees that the Janitor has gone).
Because I have no money!....
LE BRET (as if throwing a purse).
How about that bag of coin?
CYRANO.
Monthly allowance, thou wert short lived! One day!
LE BRET.
For a whole month, then....
CYRANO.
I have nothing left.
LE BRET.
To throw away thus your purse, what folly!
CYRANO.
Yes, but what a gesture!
THE WAITING-GIRL (behind the counter).
Hum!
(Cyrano and Le Bret turn around. She advances timidly.)
Sir .... I cannot bear.... to see you fast.... (Showing the buffet). I have here several things.... Take some!
CYRANO (taking off his hat).
My dear child, Gascon pride forbids my accepting from you the smallest of your delicacies. But, on the other hand, I would not for the whole world offend you, as my refusal might do. So I will with pleasure accept....
(Goes up to the buffet and chooses.)
Oh! the smallest thing!.... ah! one grape from this bunch.
(She tries to make him take the bunch, but he picks out a single grape.)
Only one.... a glass of water....
(She tries to pour some wine, but he prevents her.)
Pure water!.... and half a maccaroon.
(He breaks a maccaroon in two, and returns one of the pieces.)
LE BRET.
What nonsense!
WAITING-GIRL.
Do have something more!
CYRANO.
Yes, your hand to kiss.
(He kisses her hand as if she were a princess.)
WAITING-GIRL.
Thank you, Sir!
(Curtsies.)
A very good evening!
(Exit waiting-girl.)