CARBON (turning and looking at him from head to foot):
Sir!
CHRISTIAN:
Pray, what skills it best to do
To Southerners who swagger?. . .
CARBON:
Give them proof
That one may be a Northerner, yet brave!
(He turns his back on him.)
CHRISTIAN:
I thank you.
FIRST CADET (to Cyrano):
Now the tale!
ALL:
The tale!
CYRANO (coming toward them):
The tale?. . .
(All bring their stools up, and group round him, listening eagerly. Christian is astride a chair):
Well! I went all alone to meet the band.
The moon was shining, clock-like, full i’ th’ sky,
When, suddenly, some careful clockwright passed
A cloud of cotton-wool across the case
That held this silver watch. And, presto! heigh!
The night was inky black, and all the quays
Were hidden in the murky dark. Gadsooks!
One could see nothing further. . .
CHRISTIAN:
Than one’s nose!
(Silence. All slowly rise, looking in terror at Cyrano, who has stopped— dumbfounded. Pause.)