ROXANE:
If, when the regiment march to Arras, he were left here with his beloved
boon companions, the Cadets, to sit with crossed arms so long as the war
lasted! There is your method, would you enrage a man of his kind; cheat him
of his chance of mortal danger, and you punish him right fiercely.
DE GUICHE (coming nearer):
O woman! woman! Who but a woman had e’er devised so subtle a trick?
ROXANE:
See you not how he will eat out his heart, while his friends gnaw their
thick fists for that they are deprived of the battle? So are you best
avenged.
DE GUICHE:
You love me, then, a little?
(She smiles):
I would fain—seeing you thus espouse my cause, Roxane—believe it a proof
of love!
ROXANE:
’Tis a proof of love!
DE GUICHE (showing some sealed papers):
Here are the marching orders; they will be sent instantly to each company—
except—
(He detaches one):
—This one! ’Tis that of the Cadets.
(He puts it in his pocket):
This I keep.
(Laughing):
Ha! ha! ha! Cyrano! His love of battle!. . .So you can play tricks on
people?. . .you, of all ladies!
ROXANE:
Sometimes!
DE GUICHE (coming close to her):
Oh! how I love you!—to distraction! Listen! To-night—true, I ought to
start—but—how leave you now that I feel your heart is touched! Hard by, in
the Rue d’Orleans, is a convent founded by Father Athanasius, the syndic of
the Capuchins. True that no layman may enter—but—I can settle that with the
good Fathers! Their habit sleeves are wide enough to hide me in. ’Tis they
who serve Richelieu’s private chapel: and from respect to the uncle, fear the
nephew. All will deem me gone. I will come to you, masked. Give me leave to
wait till tomorrow, sweet Lady Fanciful!
ROXANE:
But, of this be rumored, your glory. . .
DE GUICHE:
Bah!