ROXANE.
And he shall have no duels to fight.
CYRANO.
None; you have my promise.
ROXANE.
Ah! you are my dearest friend.—But I must go.
(She puts on her mask again, throws a lace scarf over her head, and then, in an unconcerned way says:)
But you did not relate to me your battle of last night. You must have been grand!.... Tell him to write me.
(Sends him a kiss with her hand.)
Dear, dear friend!