GUICHE.
What's that?
CYRANO.
You cannot imagine?
GUICHE.
No!
CYRANO.
The tide!.... As it was running out, in obedience to the attraction of the moon, I lay on the sands—head foremost, so that my hair—hair, you know, does not dry fast—so that my hair was kept bathed in the receding waves. And, thus I was, by the moon's attraction, drawn up, up, erect, like an angel. And up I went, gently, without an effort, until suddenly, I felt a shock!.... Then!....
GUICHE (interested, takes a seat on the bench).
Then?....