ROXANE:
And this. . .
CYRANO (enchanted):
Then you have his letters by heart?
ROXANE:
Every one of them!
CYRANO:
By all oaths that can be sworn,—’tis flattering!
ROXANE:
They are the lines of a master!
CYRANO (modestly):
Come, nay. . .a master?. . .
ROXANE:
Ay, I say it—a master!
CYRANO:
Good—be it so.
THE DUENNA (coming down quickly):
Here comes Monsieur de Guiche!
(To Cyrano, pushing him toward the house):
In with you! ’twere best he see you not; it might perchance put him on the scent. . .
ROXANE (to Cyrano):
Ay, of my own dear secret! He loves me, and is powerful, and, if he knew,
then all were lost! Marry! he could well deal a deathblow to my love!