Cyrano de Bergerac | Act II, Act II

Act II

The Poet's Eating-House

RAGUENEAU's pastry shop. It is a large kitchen at the corner of the Rue St. Honore and the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, which are seen in the background through the glass door, in the gray dawn.

On the left, in the foreground, is a counter. Above this counter hang geese, ducks and water peacocks. In great china vases are tall bouquets of simple flowers, mainly yellow sunflowers.

On the same side, farther back, is a large open fireplace. From each andiron hangs a little saucepan. Drippings from various roasts fall into the pans.

There is a door in the right foreground. Farther back, a staircase leads to a little room under the roof, the entrance of which is visible through the open shutter. In this room a table is laid. A small candelabra is lit. It is a place for eating and drinking. A wooden gallery, continuing the staircase, apparently leads to other similar little rooms.

In the middle of the shop an iron hoop is suspended form the ceiling by a string with which it can be drawn up and down. Big game is hung around this hoop.

The ovens in the darkness under the stairs give forth a red glow. The copper pans shine. The spits are turning. Heaps of food are formed into pyramids. Hams are suspended from hooks. Scullions, fat cooks, and diminutive apprentices bustle and hurry around, their caps decorated with chicken feathers and hens’ wings. On metal and wicker plates they bring in piles of cakes and tarts.

Tables are covered with rolls and dishes of food. Other tables surrounded with chairs are ready for the customers. RAGUENEAU is seated at a small table

THE CURTAIN RISES.

Scene I

RAGUENEAU, PASTRY-COOKS, then LISE, RAGUENEAU is writing, with an inspired air, at a small table, and counting on his fingers.

FIRST PASTRY-COOK:
[bringing in an elaborate fancy dish] Fruits in nougat!
SECOND PASTRY-COOK:
[bringing another dish] Custard!
THIRD PASTRY-COOK:
[bringing a roast, decorated with feathers] Peacock!
FOURTH PASTRY-COOK:
[bringing a batch of cakes on a slab] Cakes!
FIFTH PASTRY-COOK:
[bringing a sort of pie-dish] Beef casserole!
RAGUENEAU:
[stopping his writing and raising his head] The silver rays of the dawn begin to glint even now on the copper pans! Stifle the God of Song in your breast, Ragueneau! Soon the hour of the lute will come. But now, ’tis the hour of the oven! [He rises, and speaks to one of the cooks.] Improve that sauce—it's short of something!
COOK:
How much too short?
RAGUENEAU:
About three feet.

[He passes on farther.]

COOK:
What on earth is he talking about?
FIRST COOK:
[showing a dish to RAGUENEAU] The tart!
SECOND COOK:
The pie!
RAGUENEAU:
[before the fire] Retire, my muse, lest thy bright eyes be burned by the fire's blaze! to a COOK, showing him some loaves of bread] You have split these loaves in the wrong place. Don't you know that the pause always occurs at the center of the line? [to ANOTHER, showing him an unfinished pastry] Build a roof for this palace of crust! to a young APPRENTICE, who is seated on the ground placing poultry on a spit] On your spit, my son, you must alternate the modest chicken and the superb turkey, just as old Malherbe alternated his long lines of verse with short ones. Just as a couplet should be well-turned, so should a roast!
ANOTHER APPRENTICE:
[coming up with a tray covered by a napkin] Master, I thought of your tastes and made this. I hope it pleases you.

[He uncovers the tray, and shows a large lyre made of pastry.]

RAGUENEAU:
[enchanted] A lyre!
APPRENTICE:
’Tis of pastry dough.
RAGUENEAU:
[touched] With candied fruits!
APPRENTICE:
And I made the strings out of sugar.
RAGUENEAU:
[giving him a coin] Go, and drink to my health! seeing LISE enter] Shhh! My wife! Go now, and hide that money! [to LISE, showing her the lyre, with a self-conscious look] Isn't it beautiful?
LISE:
It's ridiculous!

[She puts a pile of papers on the counter.]

RAGUENEAU:
Bags? Good! We need them! [He looks at them.] Heavens! My cherished pages! The poems of my friends! Torn apart to make bags for holding biscuits and cakes! You've desecrated great poetry, just as the Bacchantes tore apart Orpheus!
LISE:
[dryly] And am I not free to put to some use the only things that your wretched scribblers leave behind them by way of payment?
RAGUENEAU:
Groveling ant! Don't insult the divine grasshoppers!
LISE:
You never called your wife an ant—much less Bacchantes—until you started keeping company with that bunch!
RAGUENEAU:
Oh, to turn my poetic words to such use!
LISE:
That's all your poetry is good for!
RAGUENEAU:
I hate to think of what you would do to prose, then!
  • a metal support used in a fireplace
  • a narrow passageway
  • kitchen workers
  • small
  • a small guitar-like musical instrument
  • François de Malherbe (1555 – 1628) was a French poet who proposed strict and rigid rules for poetry.
  • two lines of poetry usually rhyming and having the same rhythm
  • a stringed instrument belonging to the harp family
  • defiled, violated
  • In ancient Roman mythology, the Bacchantes were female followers of Bacchus, the god of wine. Seeing Orpheus one day, they set upon him in a frenzy of lust, tearing him to pieces and killing him.
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