ROXANE:
It goes to battle?
DE GUICHE:
Without doubt.
ROXANE:
But the Cadets go not?
DE GUICHE:
Oh ay! they go.
(Drawing out the paper he had put in his pocket):
Here is the order.
(To Christian):
Baron, bear it, quick!
ROXANE (throwing herself in Christian’s arms):
Christian!
DE GUICHE (sneeringly to Cyrano):
The wedding-night is far, methinks!
CYRANO (aside):
He thinks to give me pain of death by this!
CHRISTIAN (to Roxane):
Oh! once again! Your lips!
CYRANO:
Come, come, enough!
CHRISTIAN (still kissing Roxane):
—’Tis hard to leave her, you know not. . .
CYRANO (trying to draw him away):
I know.