LE BRET, RAGUENEAU.

[She descends the steps.]

RAGUENEAU:

I'm glad you're here! It's best that she not know! I was going to Cyrano's house just now. I was but a few steps from the house, when I saw him go out. I hurried after him. I saw him turn the corner, and suddenly, from out of a window just above him—I cannot say whether it was by accident or not—a lackey dropped a large piece of wood!

LE BRET:

Cowards! Oh, Cyrano!

RAGUENEAU:

I ran to him, and I saw—

LE BRET:

Oh, how horrible!

RAGUENEAU:

I saw our dear poet, our friend, lying on the ground with a large wound in his head!

LE BRET:

Is he dead?

RAGUENEAU:

No. I carried him to his room. Oh, what a terrible thing to see! That dreary little garret!

LE BRET:

Is he suffering?

RAGUENEAU:

No, he's unconscious.

LE BRET:

Have you called a doctor?

RAGUENEAU:

I found a kind doctor, and he came.

LE BRET:

My poor Cyrano! We must not tell this to Roxane all at once. What did the doctor say?

RAGUENEAU:

I don't really know! He spoke of fever, and something about the brain! Oh, if you could see him—his head all bound up! But let's hurry! There's no one by his bed, and if he tries to get up, he might very well die!

LE BRET:

[dragging him toward the right] Come! Through the chapel! It's the quickest way!

ROXANE:

[appearing on the steps, and seeing LE BRET go away by the colonnade leading to the chapel door] Monsieur Le Bret! [LE BRET and RAGUENEAU disappear without answering] I call him, and he doesn't stop! Ragueneau's troubles must be really bad this time!