The same, with all but LIGNIERE DE GUICHE, VALVERT, then MONTFLEURY.

[They go toward DE GUICHE.]

[He hurries out. DE GUICHE, DE VALVERT, and the MARQUISES have all disappeared behind the curtain to take their places on the benches placed on the stage. The pit is quite full; the galleries and boxes are also crowded.]

[There is total silence.]

[A knock is heard upon the stage. Everyone is motionless. There is a pause.]

[A chair is passed from hand to hand, over the heads of the spectators. The MARQUIS takes it and disappears, after blowing some kisses to the boxes.]

[Three knocks are heard on the stage. The curtains part. The MARQUISES in arrogant attitudes are seated on each side of the stage. The scene represents a pastoral landscape. Four little candelabra light the stage; the violins play softly.]

[A note on the bagpipes is heard, and MONTFLEURY enters, enormously fat, in shepherd's dress, a hat wreathed with roses drooping over one ear, blowing into a ribboned bagpipe.]

[A general stupor ensues. Everyone turns around. The CROWD murmurs.]

[The people stand up in the boxes to look.]

[A hand holding a cane starts up over the heads of the spectators.]

[The cane is shaken.]

[A sensation ripples throughout the theater.]

A MARQUIS:

[watching DE GUICHE, who comes down from ROXANE'S box and crosses the pit surrounded by obsequious noblemen, among them the VISCOUNT DE VALVERT] He pays a fine court, your de Guiche!

SECOND MARQUIS:

[with distaste] Another Gascon!

FIRST MARQUIS:

Yes, but a cold and clever Gascon—that's the stuff success is made of! Believe me, we had best make our bow to him.

SECOND MARQUIS:

What fine ribbons, Count de Guiche! What would you call the color? ‘Kiss me, my darling,’ or ‘Timid Fawn?’

DE GUICHE:

I call it ‘Sick Spaniard.’

FIRST MARQUIS:

Very appropriate! Thanks to your valor, things will soon go ill for Spain in Flanders.

DE GUICHE:

I'm going up to sit on the stage. Won't you come along? [He goes toward the stage, followed by the MARQUISES and gentlemen. Turning, he calls to de VALVERT.] Come, Valvert!

CHRISTIAN:

[who is watching and listening, starts when he hears this name] The Viscount! I'll throw my glove in his face! [He puts his hand in his pocket and finds there the hand of a PICKPOCKET who is about to rob him. He turns around.] What…

PICKPOCKET:

Oh!

CHRISTIAN:

[holding him tightly] I was looking for my glove.

PICKPOCKET:

[smiling piteously] And you found a hand instead. [changing his tone and whispering quickly] Let me go and I'll tell you a secret!

CHRISTIAN:

[still holding him] What is it?

PICKPOCKET:

Ligniere—your friend who just left …

CHRISTIAN:

What about him?

PICKPOCKET:

His life is in danger. He wrote a song which has offended some very powerful people. A hundred men—I am one of them—will be after him tonight.

CHRISTIAN:

A hundred men! Who hired them?

PICKPOCKET:

I cannot say. It's a secret—

CHRISTIAN:

Oh!

PICKPOCKET:

[with great dignity] Of the profession.

CHRISTIAN:

Where are the men posted?

PICKPOCKET:

At the Porte de Nesle. On his way home. Warn him.

CHRISTIAN:

[letting go of his wrists] But where can I find him?

PICKPOCKET:

Go around to all the taverns—The Golden Wine Press, The Pine Cone, The Bursting Belt, The Two Torches, The Three Funnels, and leave a word at each one that should put him on his guard.

CHRISTIAN:

I'm on my way! Oh, the scoundrels! A hundred men against one![looking lovingly at ROXANE] Ah, to leave her! [looking with rage at DE VALVERT] And him! But save Ligniere I must!

AUDIENCE:

Begin the play!

A BURGHER:

[whose wig is drawn up on the end of a string by a page in the upper gallery] My wig!

CRIES OF DELIGHT:

He's bald! Bravo, pages! Ha ha ha!

BURGHER:

[furious, shaking his fist] Little villains!

LAUGHTER AND CRIES:

[beginning very loud, and dying gradually away] Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

LE BRET:

[astonished] Why the sudden silence? [A SPECTATOR says something to him in a low voice] Is it true?

THE SPECTATOR:

I have just heard it on good authority.

MURMURS:

[spreading through the hall] Shhh!—Is it him?—No!—Yes, I say!—In the box with the bars in front!—The Cardinal!—The Cardinal!—The Cardinal!

A PAGE:

The devil! We'll have to behave ourselves now!

VOICE OF A MARQUIS:

[in the silence, behind the curtain] Snuff that candle out!

ANOTHER MARQUIS:

[putting his head through the opening in the curtain] A chair!

A SPECTATOR:

Silence!

LE BRET:

[in a low voice to RAGUENEAU] Montfleury is about to come on stage?

RAGUENEAU

Yes, it is he who begins.

LE BRET:

Cyrano isn't here.

RAGUENEAU:

I suppose I've lost my wager then.

LE BRET:

All for the better!

AUDIENCE:

[applauding] Bravo, Montfleury! Montfleury!

MONTFLEURY:

[after bowing low, begins his part] Happy is the man who dwells alone
Far from the pomp of court and crowd
In a solitary wood, where gentle breezes—

A VOICE:

[from the middle of the pit] Scoundrel! Didn't I forbid you to show your face here for a month?

DIFFERENT VOICES:

Hey?—What?—What's going on?

CUIGY:

It's him!

LE BRET:

[terrified] Cyrano!

THE VOICE:

King of clowns! Leave the stage this instant!

AUDIENCE:

[indignantly] Oh!

MONTFLEURY:

But—

THE VOICE:

Do you dare defy me?

DIFFERENT VOICES:

[from the pit and the boxes] Shhh! Enough! Keep going, Monfleury—don't be afraid!

MONTFLEURY:

[in a trembling voice] Happy is the man who dwells—

THE VOICE:

[more fiercely] Prince of buffoons! Must I come and give you a taste of my cane?

MONTFLEURY:

[in a voice that trembles more and more] Happy is the man—

THE VOICE:

Off the stage!

AUDIENCE:

Oh!

MONTFLEURY:

[choking] Happy is the man who—

CYRANO:

[appearing suddenly in the pit, standing on a chair, his arms crossed, his hat cocked fiercely, his mustache bristling, his nose terrible to see] I shall be angry in a minute!