Scene II

ROXANE and the DUKE OF GRAMMONT, formerly COUNT DE GUICHE. Then LE BRET and RAGUENEAU.

DUKE:

And you remain here, still beautiful, still in mourning?

ROXANE:

Still in mourning.

DUKE:

Still faithful?

ROXANE:

Still faithful.

DUKE:

[after a pause] Do you forgive me?

ROXANE:

Yes, since I've come here.

[There is another pause.]

DUKE:

Was he really all that you say he was?

ROXANE:

Yes. But he showed his true self only to those who knew him well.

DUKE:

I see. Perhaps I did not know him well at all. And his last letter is always next to your heart?

ROXANE:

It hangs right here on this ribbon around my neck, like a holy relic.

DUKE:

And, even though he is dead, you love him still?

ROXANE:

At times, it feels like he's not really dead. Our hearts still speak, as if his love is still alive, and wraps itself around me!

DUKE:

[after another pause] Does Cyrano come to see you?

ROXANE:

Oh, yes! My dear old friend never fails to come! We call him my “Gazette” because he brings me the news every week. His chair waits beneath this tree, when the weather is nice. I sit and embroider while I wait for him. When the clock strikes the hour of his arrival, I don't even turn to look, because I know that before the last stroke is heard, I'll hear his cane tapping down the steps. He seats himself and gently mocks my tapestry that's forever unfinished. He tells me all the gossip of the week…[LE BRET appears on the steps.] Why, here's Le Bret! [LE BRET descends.] How goes it with our friend?

LE BRET:

Very badly!

DUKE:

How?

ROXANE:

[to the DUKE] He's exaggerating!

LE BRET:

Everything I predicted is happening! Cyrano is living in poverty and isolating himself from the world! Everything he writes makes him another new enemy! He attacks false saints, false soldiers, false noble-men, thieving authors—everyone!

ROXANE:

Ah! But his sword still holds them all in check. No one gets the better of him.

DUKE:

[shaking his head] Time will tell!

LE BRET:

Oh, I fear for him! But it's not the attack of men that I fear. Solitude, hunger, cold December days, the lonely wolf-like way he steals into his dreary room—these are the assassins that will come for him! Each day he tightens his belt one more hole. His poor nose is tinted like old ivory. He has only one shabby serge suit left!

DUKE:

Yes, it's true, fortune hasn't smiled upon him. But he is not to be pitied!

LE BRET:

[with a bitter smile] My Lord—

DUKE:

Don't pity him! He has lived honestly, according to his own vows. He is free in his thoughts and free in his actions!

LE BRET:

[in the same tone] My Lord, you—

DUKE:

[haughtily] True! I have everything and he has nothing! Yet I'd be proud to shake his hand! [bowing to ROXANE] Now I must say my good-bye.