ROXANE, CYRANO and, for a moment, SISTER MARTHA.

[He shuts his eyes, and all is silent for a moment. SISTER MARTHA crosses the park from the chapel to the flight of steps. ROXANE, seeing her, signs for her to approach.]

[She goes out.]

[A light breeze causes the leaves to fall.]

[He closes his eyes. His head falls forward. There is silence.]

[Twilight begins to fall.]

[She goes back to her tapestry frame, folds it up, and sorts her wools.]

[The shades of evening fall imperceptibly.]

[She comes nearer very softly, without his perceiving it, passes behind his chair, and, noiselessly leaning over him, looks at the letter. The darkness deepens.]

[LE BRET and RAGUENEAU enter running.]

ROXANE:

[without turning around] What was I saying? [She embroiders. CYRANO, very pale, his hat pulled down over his eyes, appears. The SISTER who had announced him retires. He descends the steps slowly, with a visible difficulty in holding himself upright, bearing heavily on his cane. ROXANE still works at her tapestry.] The colors have faded. How can I make them match now? [to CYRANO, with playful reproach] Late—for the first time in fourteen years!

CYRANO:

[He has succeeded in reaching the chair, and has seated himself, and speaks in a lively voice which is in great contrast to his pale face.] Yes! It's scandalous! I was so angry! I was detained…

ROXANE:

By?

CYRANO:

By a bold, unwelcome visitor.

ROXANE:

[absently, working] Some creditor?

CYRANO:

Yes, cousin. The last creditor who has a debt to claim from me.

ROXANE:

And have you paid it?

CYRANO:

No, not yet! I put it off. I said, “Have mercy! This is Saturday, the day I have a standing meeting that nothing should prevent. Come back in an hour!”

ROXANE:

[carelessly] Oh, well, a creditor can always wait! I shall not let you go before twilight falls!

CYRANO:

I may have to leave you before it falls.

ROXANE:

[to CYRANO] Aren't you going to tease Sister Martha today?

CYRANO:

[quickly opening his eyes] Of course! [in a comically loud voice] Sister! Come here! [The SISTER glides up to him.] Such lovely eyes! Why do you always keep them cast down to the ground?

SISTER MARTHA:

[who makes a movement of astonishment upon seeing his face] Oh!

CYRANO:

[in a whisper, pointing to ROXANE] Hush! It's nothing! [loudly, in a blustering voice] I ate meat yesterday!

SISTER MARTHA:

[aside] He must be pale from hunger! [to CYRANO, in a whisper] Come into the refectory soon and I'll make you a bowl of soup! Will you come?

CYRANO:

Yes, yes!

SISTER MARTHA:

Ah! You're more reasonable today than usual!

ROXANE:

[who hears them whispering] Is the sister trying to convert you?

SISTER MARTHA:

No, not I!

CYRANO:

It's true! You with your holy words! You used to preach to me all the time, but not anymore! I'm astonished! [with mock fury] Well, I can astonish you too! Listen here! I permit you… [He pretends to be seeking for something to tease her with, and to have found it.] I've got it! I permit you to pray for me tonight at chapel!

ROXANE:

Oh!

CYRANO:

[laughing] Good Sister Martha is struck speechless!

SISTER MARTHA:

[gently] I've never waited for your permission.

CYRANO:

[turning to ROXANE, who is still bending over her work] That tapes- try! Will I ever see the end of that eternal thing?

ROXANE:

I've been waiting for you to make fun of it!

CYRANO:

The autumn leaves!

ROXANE:

[lifting her head, and looking down the distant alley] Golden brown and red, like a painting by Titian. See how they fall!

CYRANO:

Ah, see how bravely they fall. Still lovely, even on their last short journey to the ground, where they'll rot within the clay. They hide the horror of that end by floating down so carelessly and gracefully!

ROXANE:

You sound melancholy!

CYRANO:

[collecting himself] No, no, Roxane!

ROXANE:

Then let the dead leaves fall as they will. Chat with me. Haven't you any news to tell, my Court Gazette?

CYRANO:

I'll begin right now.

ROXANE:

Good!

CYRANO:

[growing whiter and whiter, struggling against pain] On Saturday, the nineteenth, after having eaten several helpings of pear jelly, the King felt feverish. The court physician convicted the illness of high treason and executed it, and now the royal pulse beats at a normal pace once again. At the Queen's ball on Sunday, seven hundred wax candles were burned. Our troops, they say, have chased away John of Austria. Four witches were hanged. The little dog of Madame d'Athis had an enema—

ROXANE:

That's enough, Monsieur de Bergerac!

CYRANO:

On Monday, not much happened. Lygdamire took a new lover.

ROXANE:

Oh!

CYRANO:

[whose face changes more and more] On Tuesday, the Court went off to Fontainebleau. On Wednesday, Madame Montglat said “No” to Count de Fiesque. On Thursday, Olympe Mancini became the Queen of France—well, almost! On Friday, Madame Montglat said “Yes” to Count de Fiesque. And today, Saturday the twenty-sixth…

ROXANE:

[surprised at his voice ceasing, turns around, looks at him, and rises, terrified] He's fainted! [She runs toward him, crying.] Cyrano!

CYRANO:

[opening his eyes, in a vague voice] What's this? [He sees ROXANE bending over him and hastily presses his hat on his head and shrinks back in his chair.] It's nothing! I swear! Let me be!

ROXANE:

But—

CYRANO:

It's just that old wound from Arras acting up. It hurts sometimes.

ROXANE:

Dear friend!

CYRANO:

’Tis nothing. It will pass soon. [He smiles with an effort.] See! It has passed already!

ROXANE:

Each of us has his own wound. I have mine, too. It still hasn't healed up, my old wound! [She puts her hand on her breast.] ’Tis here, beneath this letter brown with age, all stained with tears and blood.

CYRANO:

His letter! You promised that one day you would let me read it.

ROXANE:

Do you really want to read it?

CYRANO:

Yes, I do. In fact, I'd like to read it right now.

ROXANE:

[removing the little bag which hangs from her neck] Here it is!

CYRANO:

[taking it] Do I have your permission to open it?

ROXANE:

Yes, open it and read!

CYRANO:

[reading] Goodbye, Roxane! I soon must die! My soul is heavy with love untold. No more shall my eyes feast on your smallest gestures. I think of the way you touch your cheek, softly, with your finger, as you speak! I know that gesture so well! My heart cries out, and I cry, “Farewell!”

ROXANE:

How well you read that letter! It's as if…

CYRANO:

[continuing to read] My life, my love, my jewel, my sweet! My heart has been yours in every beat!

ROXANE:

You read in such a voice! A voice I've heard somewhere before!

CYRANO:

My heart has never left you. In this world and in the next, I am the one who loves you—

ROXANE:

[putting her hand on his shoulder] How can you read? It's too dark to see! [He starts, turns, sees her close to him. Suddenly alarmed, he holds his head down. Then in the dusk, which has now completely enfolded them, she speaks, very slowly, with clasped hands.] And, for fourteen years now, he has played the part of the kind old friend who comes to laugh and chat.

CYRANO:

Roxane!

ROXANE:

It was you!

CYRANO:

No, Roxane, no!

ROXANE:

I should have guessed it each time you said my name!

CYRANO:

No, it was not I!

ROXANE:

It was you!

CYRANO:

I swear!

ROXANE:

I see through the whole generous lie! The letters—you!

CYRANO:

No!

ROXANE:

The sweet, mad love-words! All yours!

CYRANO:

No!

ROXANE:

That voice that thrilled me in the night! You!

CYRANO:

I swear you're mistaken.

ROXANE:

The soul—it was your soul!

CYRANO:

I loved you not!

ROXANE:

You did love me!

CYRANO:

No! It was he!

ROXANE:

You loved me!

CYRANO:

[in a weakening voice] No!

ROXANE:

You're faltering now. You're denying it less strongly.

CYRANO:

No, my sweet love, I never loved you!

ROXANE:

Ah! So many long-dead things are being reborn now! Why did you keep your silence all these fourteen years when the tears on this letter, which he never wrote, are your tears?

CYRANO:

[holding out the letter to her] The blood is his.

ROXANE:

Why, then, have you broken your noble silence today?

CYRANO:

Why?…