THE CADET:
Gascon cannons never recoil!
DE GUICHE (taking him by the arm and shaking him):
You are tipsy!—but what with?
THE CADET (grandiloquently):
—With the smell of powder!
DE GUICHE (shrugging his shoulders and pushing him away, then going quickly to Roxane):
Briefly, Madame, what decision do you deign to take?
ROXANE:
I stay here.
DE GUICHE:
You must fly!
ROXANE:
No! I will stay.
DE GUICHE:
Since things are thus, give me a musket, one of you!
CARBON:
Wherefore?
DE GUICHE:
Because I too—mean to remain.