ROXANE alone. Two SISTERS, for a moment.

ROXANE:

Ah! What beauty the autumn brings! My sorrow has eased. April's joy sharpened it, but now September's calm comforts it. [She seats herself at the embroidery frame. Two SISTERS come out of the house and set a large armchair under the tree.] Here is the famous armchair for my dear faithful friend!

SISTER MARTHA:

It's the best one in the parlor!

ROXANE:

Thank you, sister. [The SISTERS go.] He'll be here any moment now. [She seats herself. A clock strikes.] The hour strikes. I'll begin my embroi- dery. [after a moment] The last stroke of the hour! How strange for him to be late! Perhaps the sister at the door is—Where's my thimble?—is preaching to him. Yes, that must be it! Surely he'll come soon! Ah, a dead leaf. [She brushes off the leaf from her work.] Nothing could—My scissors? Oh yes, here in my bag—could prevent him from coming.

A SISTER:

[coming to the steps] Monsieur de Bergerac.