(sniffing with affectation).
Why!.... Why!.... this is surprising! It smells here of....
(going up to Cyrano).
But you, Sir, must have noticed it? It smells of....
CYRANO (slapping Musketeer's face).
Five-leaf clover!
(General rejoicing, Cyrano is himself again. Cadets turn somersaults.)
CURTAIN.
