Act 2 — SCENE IX.
Charles Renauld translation
CYRANO, LE BRET, THE CADETS, CHRISTIAN DE NEUVILLETTE.
A CADET (seated at a table in the rear, drinking).
Cyrano!
(Cyrano turns.)
That narrative, please.
CYRANO.
Yes, presently!
(He takes the arm of Le Bret, going up and speaking in low tone to him.)
THE CADET (rising and coming down).
The details of the fight! They will make the best kind of lesson.... (stopping near the table before which Christian is seated) for a timid apprentice!
CHRISTIAN (looking up).
Apprentice!
ANOTHER CADET.
Just so, sickly northerner!
CHRISTIAN.
Sickly!
FIRST CADET (sneeringly).
Monsieur de Neuvillette, there's something you must learn, to wit: there exists a thing that, with us, must never be even alluded to—no more than a rope in the house of one who was hung.
CHRISTIAN.
And what is that?
ANOTHER CADET (in terrifying tone).
Look at me!
(With his finger he, three times, strikes his nose.)
You understand?
CHRISTIAN.
Oh! you mean the....
ANOTHER CADET.
Hush!.... The word is never pronounced....
(pointing to Cyrano, who, in the rear, is talking with Le Bret).
.... Or else trouble is sure.
ANOTHER CADET (who, while Christian was looking the other way, took a seat on the table).
Two men were killed by him because they spoke through the nose—a subject he dislikes!
ANOTHER CADET (springing up from underneath the table, where he had crawled).
Those who desire to die young have but to come here and speak of the fatal cartilage.
ANOTHER CADET (placing his hand on Christian's shoulder).
One word's enough. Did I say: a word? One motion, just one, suffices. And drawing out one's handkerchief is equivalent to weaving one's shroud!
(Silence. All the Cadets remain, with folded arms, staring at Christian. Christian goes up to Carbon of Haughty-Hall, who has been conversing with an officer and affecting not to notice the proceedings.)
CHRISTIAN.
Captain!
CARBON (turning, and with a severe look).
Sir?
CHRISTIAN.
When one encounters southerners possessed of too much braggadocio....
CARBON.
The right thing to do? Prove to them that you may come from the North and still be brave.
(Carbon turns.)
CHRISTIAN.
Captain, I thank you.
FIRST CADET (to Cyrano).
And now your narrative!
OTHER CADETS.
Yes, his narrative!
CYRANO (coming down to them).
My narrative? Well, here it is!
(They gather around him, some seated, some standing. Christian straddles a chair.)
Well, then, I was walking along so as to meet them. The moon, in the sky, looked like a big silver watch; when suddenly some zealous watch-maker, I suppose, began passing over it, with a view to making it shine, no doubt, some cloudy cotton. In consequence, the night became as dark as possible, and, mordious! I could not see further....
CHRISTIAN.
Than the end of your nose.
(Silence. Everybody rises slowly, frightened, and looking at Cyrano, whom the interruption has astounded. General expectancy.)
CYRANO.
Who is this man?
A CADET (in subdued tone).
One who joined this morning.
CYRANO (going toward Christian).
This morning?
CARBON.
His name is Baron de Neuvillette.
CYRANO (rapidly, stopping).
Oh! very well then!....
(He turns pale, then reddens, and appears ready to throw himself upon Christian.)
I must....
(restraining himself, however).
That is different. (resuming). As I was saying....
(with ill-concealed fury).
Mordious!....
(continuing in a natural tone).... I could not see very far.
(General stupefaction. All take their seats again, looking at Cyrano.)
So, I was walking on, thinking how I was going to disappoint some mighty lord desirous of pulling....
CHRISTIAN.
Your nose!....
(Everybody rises again, while Christian rocks on his chair.)
CYRANO (half choking).
My ears!.... and how imprudent some people might find me for thus poking....
CHRISTIAN.
Your nose....
CYRANO.
No, my finger, between the tree and the bark. For this great lord might be powerful enough to rap me....
CHRISTIAN.
On the nose....
CYRANO (wiping the perspiration from his forehead).
No, on the fingers. But I said to myself: go ahead, Gascon; do your duty! On, Cyrano! Then, abruptly, out of the dark, somebody made a lunge at me. I parried: when suddenly, I found myself....
CHRISTIAN.
Nose to nose....
CYRANO (bounding toward him).
Ventre—Saint—Gris!....
(All the Gascons advance to witness the scene. But Cyrano, on coming up to Christian, masters himself, and continues:)
Confronted by a hundred drunken rascals.... smelling....
CHRISTIAN.
With their hundred noses....
CYRANO (pale as death, but smiling).
....Strongly of onion and garlic! I rushed forward blindly....
CHRISTIAN.
Without nosing....
CYRANO.
And charged them! Down went two of them. A third I ran through. They lunged, I parried, and struck down, how many?....
CHRISTIAN.
Who knows!....
CYRANO (bursting with rage).
Thunder and lightning! Clear the room!
(The Cadets rush toward the door.)
FIRST CADET.
The tiger wakes!
CYRANO.
All out! Leave me alone with this man!
SECOND CADET.
We'll find the fellow in mince-meat.
RAGUENEAU.
Mince-meat. Not fit, though, for my pies.
(All go out, by the rear, the sides and the staircase. Cyrano and Christian remain face to face staring at each other fiercely.)