CYRANO (crossing his arms).
So—you think of naught but food!
Come up here, then, Bertrandou, with your fife.
Seek shepherds' notes, and let these gluttons feast
Upon some old and ne'er forgotten tune
Each sound of which is like a sister's voice;
An air that slowly winds its way aloft,
As does the smoke from lowly cottage roofs,
A lay of youth, of waiting hearts and home!
(Bertrandou prepares his fife.)
Let fife a while forget the battle note,
Remembering that it was born a reed.
(Bertrandou begins playing some Gascony airs.)
Ye Gascons, list! 'Tis war no more, but peace.
'Tis hill and dale, 'tis wood and meadow-land,
With red-capped lads beside their gentle herds;
'Tis smiling riverbank and sunny sea.
O Gascons, hark! You are in Gascony!
(All have bowed their heads and are dreaming: many brush away a tear.)
CARBON (to Cyrano, aside).
But, instead of giving them courage, you make them weep!
CYRANO.