ROXANE.
No! You love me no more!
CHRISTIAN (prompted by Cyrano).
You accuse me....merciful Gods!....of loving no more....when....I love more!
ROXANE (stopping as she was going to close the window).
Why! you are improving.
CHRISTIAN (still prompted).
Love grows stronger in the restless soul—mine—that he has chosen....cruel child!....for a cradle!
ROXANE (coming out on the balcony).
Better still!....But, since this love is so cruel, you were foolish, indeed, not to smother it at its birth!