Four!
CYRANO.
Since Phœbe, when her bow is the thinnest, loves to draw, O beeves! your marrow,.... anoint myself with the same!
GUICHE (stupefied).
Five!
CYRANO (who has managed, while talking, to press Guiche over to the other side of the square, near a bench).
Last: I could have placed myself upon an iron plate, taken a magnet and thrown it up into the air! This is a capital way. As soon as the magnet starts, the iron rushes in pursuit of it. The magnet is thrown up again; the iron plate follows—and, Cadedis! there is nothing to prevent the ascension from lasting indefinitely.
GUICHE.
Six!—All excellent systems. And, tell me, Sir, which one of the six did you adopt?
CYRANO.