Act 2 — SCENE IV.
Charles Renauld translation
RAGUENEAU, LISE, THE MUSKETEER, CYRANO, by the table, writing, THE POETS, clad in black, bedraggled.
LISE (entering, to Ragueneau).
Here are your bedraggled friends!
FIRST POET (entering, to Ragueneau).
Brother-poet!....
SECOND POET (shaking Ragueneau by the hand).
Dear brother-poet!
THIRD POET.
Eagle of pastry-cooks!
(sniffing) It smells good in your nest.
FOURTH POET.
O Phœbus-Caterer! Apollo master-cook!....
RAGUENEAU (somewhat bewildered).
How soon one feels at ease with them!
FIRST POET.
We were delayed a bit by something of a crowd, Close by the Porte de Nesle!....
SECOND POET.
By sword both slashed and pierced, Eight cut-throats bleeding fast illustrated the street.
CYRANO (looking up).
Eight?.... I thought seven.
(continues writing.)
RAGUENEAU (to Cyrano).
Who fought so bravely? Do you know?
CYRANO (treating the matter lightly).
I?.... No!
LISE (to the Musketeer).
Do you?
MUSKETEER (curling his mustache).
Perhaps.
CYRANO (writing—mutters a word now and then, aside).
I love you....
FIRST POET.
A single man, they say, put all the band to flight!....
CYRANO (writing).
Your eyes!....
SECOND POET.
Why! Spears and hats were found a hundred yards away!
CYRANO (writing).
Your lips!....
FIRST POET.
Quite fearless must be he who fought so many thus.
CYRANO (writing).
And I am like to faint, outdone, when you appear.
SECOND POET (helping himself to a cake).
What new rimes can you give us, Ragueneau?
CYRANO (writing).
Who loves you!....
(He stops just as he was going to sign, rises, folds the letter and puts it into his doublet.)
Signature unnecessary. I'll hand her the letter myself.
RAGUENEAU (to Second Poet).
I have put a recipe into verse.
THIRD POET (settling near a tray of tarts).
Oh! let us hear the lines.
FOURTH POET.
This cake is crooked. Make it straight.
(Eats it.)
SECOND POET.
We are listening.
THIRD POET.
This tart will lose its cream. We'll save it.
(Eats the tart.)
SECOND POET (breaking off and eating a piece of the candied lyre).
The only time perhaps a lyre's fed its man.
RAGUENEAU (who has been preparing to recite, coughing, settling his cap and striking an attitude).
A recipe in verse....
SECOND POET (to First Poet).
Why! you are breakfasting!
FIRST POET (to Second Poet).
And you are dining, friend!
RAGUENEAU.
HOW TO MAKE ALMOND TARTS.
Beat up to foam, discarding dregs, Your choice of eggs. Add carefully into the foam Some citron juice that's new and stout; Then lengthen out With milk of almonds made at home. Next, coat with dough, both fresh and sound, Below, around, Such moulds as pastry-cooks prepare. Add sweetening to suit your taste Into the paste. Then pour quite slowly and with care Your foam into each well[14], so well That ev'ry well, When it is baked to blondness, starts To seek the walks that pleasure sings. These seemly things Are rightly christened: almond tarts.
THE POETS (mouths full).
Most exquisite! Divine!
ONE OF THE POETS (choking).
Humph!
(They go to the rear, still eating. Cyrano, who has been watching them, goes up to Ragueneau.)
CYRANO.
They seem to drink your verse, my friend; but see you not How they assimilate your stock of eatables?
RAGUENEAU (in low tone, smiling).
I see, but notice not, for fear I'd trouble them; And reading so my lines affords me double joy, Since thus I satisfy a weakness that I own, And feed the while poor souls whose pressing need is food!
CYRANO (striking him on the shoulder).
I like you, Ragueneau!....
(Ragueneau joins his friends, the poets. Cyrano looks at him for a while, then suddenly says:)
Tell me there, Lise!
(Lise, who seems to be engaged in a very animated flirtation with the Musketeer, starts and comes down to Cyrano.)
This captain.... seems to be besieging you?
LISE (offended).
Oh! my eyes have a look haughty enough to vanquish all who attack my virtue.
CYRANO (very firmly).
I like Ragueneau very much. For this reason, Mistress Lise, I forbid that anybody should make him ridiculous.[15]
LISE.
But you mistake....
CYRANO (speaking loud, so as to be heard by the Musketeer).
A word to the wise....
(He bows to the Musketeer, and, after looking at the clock, goes to the door, where he stands looking out.)
LISE (to the Musketeer, who simply returned Cyrano's bow).
Really, you surprise me!.... Why do you not answer?.... Speak of his nose....
THE MUSKETEER.
His nose.... his nose.... that is easily said....
(Retires rapidly, Lise following.)
CYRANO (from the door, signals to Ragueneau to draw away the poets).
Pst!....
RAGUENEAU (pointing out to the Poets the door to the right).
We shall be much more comfortable in there....
CYRANO (getting out of patience).
Pst!.... Pst!....
RAGUENEAU (pushing the Poets along).
We'll read some more verses.
FIRST POET (in despair, with his mouth full).
But the cakes!....
SECOND POET.
Let us take them along.
(They all go out, following Ragueneau, in a sort of procession, after having loaded themselves with cakes.)