Act 4 — SCENE IV.
Charles Renauld translation
The same, GUICHE.
GUICHE (to Carbon).
Ha! Good morning!
(Aside, after looking at Carbon, with satisfaction). His face is green!
CARBON (aside).
There is nothing left of him but his eyes.
GUICHE (looking at the Cadets).
So, here are these soreheads!.... Yes, gentlemen, I understand that I am jeered at plentifully here; that cadets, nobility and gentry, barons all, are not over-burdened with respect for their Colonel; that they charge me with intrigue and court-flattery, that my lace collar over my breastplate is an eye-sore to them,—and that it is distressing to them to find that one can be a Gascon and still not out at the elbow!
(Silence. The Cadets continue to play and smoke.)
Shall I have you punished by your Captain? No.
CARBON.
Well, I am free and I punish only....
GUICHE.
Ah!....
CARBON.
I paid for my company, and it belongs to me. I obey only to war commands.
GUICHE.
Ah!.... Well, that is sufficient.
(speaking to the Cadets).
I can afford to scorn your bluster. Everybody knows how I behave under fire. Even yesterday, there were enough witnesses to the spirit with which I routed Count de Bucquoi; leading my people against his men like an avalanche, I charged him three successive times!
CYRANO (without lifting his eyes from his book).
How about your white scarf?
GUICHE (surprised and satisfied).
You know of this trifle?.... True, it happened, while I was circling to gather my people for the third charge, that a party of runaways forced me too close to the enemy; I was in danger of being taken or shot, when, happily, I bethought me to untie and to drop the scarf that told my rank. In this way, and without attracting notice, I managed to get away from the Spaniards, and to turn back upon them with all my men, beating them terribly!—Now, what do you say to this?
(The Cadets affect not to listen, but they have stopped playing, and they hold back the smoke of their pipes. A wait.)
CYRANO.
I say that Henry IV, even surrounded by a host of foes, never would have consented to diminish himself by casting off his plume of snowy white.
(Silent joy. Playing and smoking are resumed.)
GUICHE.
The device was successful, however!
(Playing and smoking again suspended.)
CYRANO.
Possibly! But who would abdicate the honour of being a target?
(Playing and smoking resumed. Growing satisfaction.)
Had I been present when the scarf slipped off,—see how ideas of bravery can vary, Sir,—I should have picked it up and put it on.
GUICHE.
Yes, Gascon boasting again!
CYRANO.
Boasting?.... Lend it to me. I offer to hang it on my shoulder and, this very night, to scale with it the enemy's fortifications.
GUICHE.
A Gascon's offer! You know full well that the scarf remained on the enemy's ground, near the river Scarpe, a place so well covered by Spanish guns that nobody can venture there to get it!
CYRANO (taking a white scarf from his pocket and handing it to Guiche).
Here it is!
(Silence. The Cadets restrain their laughter and affect to be very busy playing. Guiche turns and looks at them; they assume an air of great gravity; one of them, in an absent-minded way, half whistles one of the airs the fife played a while before.)
GUICHE (taking the scarf).
Thank you! I can use this white fabric to make a signal,—that I hesitated to give.
(He goes to the embankment and waves the scarf several times.)
ALL.
What is this?
THE SENTINEL (on the embankment).
A man, over there, who is running away!....
GUICHE (coming down from the embankment).
One who plays the part of a Spanish spy. He is very useful to us; takes over to the enemy information that I give him, so that we can influence their decision.
CYRANO.
He is a blackguard!
GUICHE (slowly tying on his scarf).
Yes, but a great convenience. What were we saying?.... Ah!.... I was going to apprise you of something. Last night, in a desperate attempt to revictual us, the Marshal left for Dourlens; he took with him so many men that an attack upon us just now would certainly be successful. Half of the army is away from the camp!
CARBON.
But the Spanish do not know of it.
GUICHE.
Yes, they do. They are going to attack us. My false spy came to tell me of it. He added: "I can have the attack made wherever you prefer." I answered: "Good. Leave the camp and watch it. The point to attack will be the one from which I make a signal to you."
CARBON (to the Cadets).
Gentlemen, make ready!
(The Cadets rise and busy themselves preparing for the fight.)
GUICHE.
The attack will take place in an hour from now.
A FEW CADETS.
Oh!.... that is different!
(They sit down and resume playing.)
GUICHE (to Carbon).
You must gain time, pending the Marshal's return.
CARBON.
And, in order to gain time, what shall we do?
GUICHE.
You will have the goodness to get killed, all of you, in defense of the camp.
CYRANO.
Ah! this is his vengeance!
GUICHE.
I will not pretend that, if I loved you, I should have selected you; but, as your bravery has no equal, by using you I am serving my king as well as my ill-will.
CYRANO.
Allow me, Sir, to be thankful for the honour.
GUICHE.
Oh! I know that you love to fight one against a hundred. You certainly cannot complain, then, that I leave you inactive.
(He goes toward the rear with Carbon.)
CYRANO (to the Cadets).
Well, then we will add to the Gascon coat of arms, proud of its six chevrons of azure and gold, gentlemen, another chevron, still lacking, one of blood!
(Guiche speaks, aside, with Carbon in the rear. Orders are given. Preparations against attack. Cyrano goes up to Christian, who has remained motionless with folded arms.)
CYRANO (placing his hand on Christian's shoulder).
Christian!
CHRISTIAN (shaking his head).
Roxane.
CYRANO.
Alas!
CHRISTIAN.
At least, I should like to condense all the loving farewells of my heart into a beautiful letter!....
CYRANO.
I thought it might be for to-day, and....
(He draws a letter from his doublet)
.... I have written your farewell.
CHRISTIAN.
Let me see!....
CYRANO.
You desire to?....
CHRISTIAN (taking the letter).
Yes, certainly!
(He opens the letter, reads, and stops.)
What is this?....
CYRANO.
What?
CHRISTIAN.
This little round spot?....
CYRANO (taking the letter and looking at it with an air of innocence).
A little round spot?....
CHRISTIAN.
Yes, a tear!
CYRANO.
Oh!.... Yes!.... we poets are caught in our own trap, through the swing of our art. You understand.... this letter,—was heart-rending; I drew tears from my own eyes as I was writing it.
CHRISTIAN.
Tears?....
CYRANO.
Yes.... because.... to die is not so terrible .... but ....never to see her again, that is the torture! for the fact is, I shall never....
(Christian looks at him.)
We shall never....
(Quickly).
You shall never....
CHRISTIAN (snatching the letter from him).
Give me the letter!
(A murmur is heard in the rear.)
A SENTINEL.
Ventrebieu! who goes there?
(A few musket shots. Voices. Sound of carriage bells.)
CARBON.
What is it?
SENTINEL (on the embankment).
A coach!
(All rush up to look.)
CRIES.
What! In the camp?—Coming in!—It seems to come from the enemy!—Diantre! Fire!—No! the coachman shouted!—Shouted what?—Shouted: "Service of the King."
(They are all on the embankment, looking into the distance. The sound of carriage bells grows nearer and nearer.)
GUICHE.
What? of the King!....
(All come down again and form in line.)
CARBON.
Hats off, all!
GUICHE (to those in the distance).
Of the King! I said.—Make way, you rabble, so that he can swing around in state.
(The coach enters on a full trot. It is covered with mud and dust. The curtains are closed. Two lackeys behind. It stops short.)
CARBON (shouting).
Salute!
(Drums beat.)
GUICHE.
Lower the step!
(Two men advance rapidly. The coach door opens.)
ROXANE (jumping out of coach).
How are you all?
(On hearing a woman's voice, they all, from a profound inclination, suddenly straighten up. Stupor.)