MONTFLEURY (in a trembling voice):
‘Heureux qui loin des cours, dans un lieu sol—’
THE VOICE (more fiercely):
Well! Chief of all the blackguards, must I come and give you a taste of my cane?
(A hand holding a cane starts up over the heads of the spectators.)
MONTFLEURY (in a voice that trembles more and more):
‘Heureux qui. . .’
(The cane is shaken.)
THE VOICE:
Off the stage!
THE PIT:
Oh!
MONTFLEURY (choking):
‘Heureux qui loin des cours. . .’
CYRANO (appearing suddenly in the pit, standing on a chair, his arms crossed, his beaver cocked fiercely, his mustache bristling, his nose terrible to see):
Ah! I shall be angry in a minute!. . .
(Sensation.)