And my drop is not metaphorical!.... One hundred years, or one minute ago—I cannot tell how long I was on the way—I was up in that saffron-coloured ball!
GUICHE (shrugging his shoulders).
Quite so! But allow me to pass!
CYRANO (stopping him).
Be frank now! Where am I? Where have I fallen like a meteorite?
GUICHE.
Zounds, Sir!....
CYRANO.
During my fall, I could make no selection as to my point of arrival. Is it upon a moon or an earth that my dead weight has just landed?
GUICHE.