Act 5 — SCENE V.
Charles Renauld translation
ROXANE, CYRANO, and, one moment, SISTER MARTHA.
ROXANE (without turning around).
Why did I worry so?
(She works.—Enter Cyrano, very pale, with his hat well over his eyes. Exit sister who announced him. He descends the steps slowly, with a visible effort to remain erect, leaning heavily on his stick.)
For the first time in fourteen years, you are late!
CYRANO (who has gained his chair and seated himself, speaks in a cheerful tone, in contrast with his looks).
Yes, and, in truth, I boil with rage. I was delayed....
ROXANE.
By what, by whom?
CYRANO.
By an intruder.
ROXANE (distraught).
Some bore? But you got rid of him, or her.
CYRANO.
Yes. "Excuse me," said I, "but this is Saturday, and I have a weekly engagement that nothing can prevent me from keeping. Return an hour hence!"
ROXANE (lightly).
The person shall wait. I'll keep you here until evening.
CYRANO.
I may be compelled to leave you sooner.
(He closes his eyes and remains silent a moment. Sister Martha appears in the rear going to the Chapel. Roxane sees her, and nods.)
ROXANE (to Cyrano).
How is it you do not tease Sister Martha to-day?
CYRANO (rapidly, opening his eyes).
Tease? Of course!
(with affected severity).
Sister Martha! Come here.
(Sister Martha goes up to him.)
Ha! ha! Your eyes are too fine to remain thus forever down!
SISTER MARTHA (smiling).
But....
(She notices his pale looks.)
Oh!
CYRANO (aside, pointing to Roxane)
Hush! It's nothing.
(aloud, in boastful tone).
I ate meat yesterday! Friday!
SISTER MARTHA.
Yes, I know.
(aside). That is the reason he looks so pale!
(to Cyrano rapidly and in a low tone). Come to the refectory by and by. I want to make you taste some broth..... Will you come?
CYRANO.
Yes, yes, yes.
SISTER MARTHA.
Oh! you are very reasonable to-day.
ROXANE (who notices their whispering).
Is she trying to convert you?
SISTER MARTHA.
Oh! nothing of the kind!
CYRANO.
It is a fact! You always have an abundance of saintly sermons, and to-day, Sister, you are not preaching to me.
(with affected fury).
Swords and muskets! I, too, shall astonish you! See here, I will permit you....
(Affects to be thinking and to have found a good jest.)
Ah! this is something new.... to.... to pray for me, to-night, in the chapel.
ROXANE.
Oh! oh! this is serious.
CYRANO (laughing).
Sister Martha is dumfounded!
SISTER MARTHA (gently).
I did not wait for your permission.
(Exit Sister Martha.)
CYRANO (returning to Roxane, who is leaning over her work).
I verily believe there never will be an end to this task of yours.
ROXANE.
I am getting accustomed to this remark.
(Just then a few dead leaves fall on Roxane's work.)
CYRANO.
Oh! withered leaves!
ROXANE (looking at the landscape).
Poor blondes of Venice hue, How fast they fall!
CYRANO.
They fall, but see how well! Their race is short, and still they sweetly show How beauty e'er recoils from rottenness: For, as they drop, they do not in their grace Appear to fall, but rather to alight!
ROXANE.
Unusually sad thoughts for you!
CYRANO (recovering his presence of mind).
Sad? Not at all, Roxane!
ROXANE.
Come, let the dead leaves fall as they will....Better give me the news, be my weekly gazette.
CYRANO.
Agreed!
ROXANE.
I'm listening.
CYRANO (getting paler and paler, as he struggles against pain).
Saturday, the 19th, having over indulged in grape-jam from Cette, the King was taken with fever; his indisposition was sentenced, for high treason, to be twice lanced, and the royal pulse was relieved of febricity![25] At the Queen's ball, on Sunday, seven hundred and sixty-three candles of white wax were burned. Our troops have been victorious, it is said, over those of John the Austrian; four sorcerers have been hung! the little dog of Madam d'Athis was given....
ROXANE.
Monsieur de Bergerac, you may omit the details!
CYRANO.
Monday.... nothing. Oh! yes, Lygdamire took a new lover.
ROXANE.
Oh!
CYRANO (whose suffering is evidently increasing).
Tuesday, all the Court was at Fontainebleu. Wednesday, the beauty Montglat said to Count de Fiesque: No! Thursday, Mancini, Queen of France,—or almost! the 25th, Montglat said to Fiesque: Yes; and Saturday, 26th....
(His eyes close. His head falls upon his shoulder. Silence.)
ROXANE (surprised at hearing nothing more, turns around, looks at him, and rises very much frightened).
Has he fainted?
(Runs up to him.) Cyrano!
CYRANO (opening his eyes and speaking somewhat indistinctly).
What is it?.... Who?.... When?....
(He sees Roxane leaning over him, and, quickly securing his hat on his head, backs up into his armchair.)
No! no! I assure you, it is nothing. I am quite myself again.
ROXANE.
But allow me....
CYRANO.
It is the old wound I received at Arras.... that.... sometimes.... you know....
ROXANE.
Dearest friend!
CYRANO.
But, it is nothing serious. Soon over.
(makes an effort to smile).
Quite well again now.
ROXANE (standing near him).
We each of us have our wound: I, too, have one, ever smarting; I feel it here, old though it be,
(placing her hand on her breast)
right here, beneath the time-worn letter on which can still be seen the trace of tears and blood!
(Dusk begins to come on.)
CYRANO.
His letter!.... Did you not say that some day, perhaps, you would allow me to read it?
ROXANE.
What! you wish?.... his letter?....
CYRANO.
Yes.... I wish.... to-day....
ROXANE.
(handing him the sachet she carries suspended to her neck).
Here it is!
CYRANO (taking it).
I may open?
ROXANE.
You may open and read!....
(She returns to her work, folds it up and arranges her worsteds.)
CYRANO (reading).
"Roxane, farewell! The time...."
ROXANE (stopping, astonished).
You read aloud?
CYRANO (reading).
"Roxane, farewell! The time of death has come; This eve, I think, belovèd, is my last. My soul's still rich in unexpressèd love, And I must die! My dazzled eyes no more, My eyes for which you were...."
ROXANE.
Why! how you read His lines!....
CYRANO (continuing).
".... for which you were a thrilling feast, No more will drink your ev'ry motion, dear. There's one that I recall, so truly yours, To smooth your hair, and I would cry aloud...."
ROXANE.
How can you know?....
(Darkness comes on by degrees.)
CYRANO (continuing).
"....And now I cry, indeed: Farewell!...."
ROXANE.
You read as if....
CYRANO (continuing).
".... My dearest dear, My treasure...."
ROXANE.
Oh! that voice!
CYRANO (continuing).
"My love!...."
ROXANE.
That voice! That voice.... I know I heard it once before!
(She passes behind him, leans over the chair, without his noticing her, and looks over the letter. Darkness increases.)
CYRANO (continuing).
"My yearning heart has never left you once. And I am he, and Death will leave me he Who loved you, dear, beyond all measure, he...."
ROXANE (placing her hand on his shoulder).
But how is it you still can read? Night has come.
(He shudders, turns, sees her near by, moves as if greatly alarmed, and hangs his head. Long silence. It is quite dark. She joins her hands, and speaks slowly:)
And during fourteen years you have played this part of an old friend who comes to amuse!
CYRANO.
Roxane!
ROXANE.
It was you.
CYRANO.
No, no, Roxane, you mistake!
ROXANE.
I should have felt it each time you said my name!
CYRANO.
It was not I!
ROXANE.
It was!
CYRANO.
I swear to you....
ROXANE.
Swear not, for now I understand your generous deceit. The letters were yours....
CYRANO.
No!
ROXANE.
The dear and tender words were yours....
CYRANO.
No!
ROXANE.
That voice in the night was yours!
CYRANO.
I swear it was not!
ROXANE.
That soul was yours!
CYRANO.
I loved you not!
ROXANE.
You did!
CYRANO.
It was the other!
ROXANE.
You loved me!
CYRANO.
No!
ROXANE.
You did, for each of your denials is lower than the one before!
CYRANO.
No, no, my dearest, no, I loved you not!
ROXANE.
How many things are dead!.... how many born!.... —Oh! through these years why were you silent thus, Since on these lines, not his by word or thought, The tears were yours?
CYRANO.
Because the blood is his!
ROXANE.
Why then allow a silence that's sublime To break as now?
CYRANO.
Roxane, oh! why, indeed?
(Le Bret and Ragueneau enter on a run.)