on the stage. The pit is quite full; the galleries and boxes are also crowded.)

THE AUDIENCE:
Begin!

A BURGHER (whose wig is drawn up on the end of a string by a page in the upper gallery):
My wig!

CRIES OF DELIGHT:
He is bald! Bravo, pages--ha! ha! ha!. . .

THE BURGHER (furious, shaking his fist):
Young villain!

LAUGHTER AND CRIES (beginning very loud, and dying gradually away):
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

(Total silence.)

LE BRET (astonished):
What means this sudden silence?. . .
(A spectator says something to him in a low voice):
Is't true?

THE SPECTATOR:
I have just heard it on good authority.

MURMURS (spreading through the hall):
Hush! Is it he? No! Ay, I say!
In the box with the bars in front!
The Cardinal! The Cardinal! The Cardinal!

A PAGE:
The devil! We shall have to behave ourselves. . .

(A knock is heard upon the stage. Every one is motionless. A pause.)

THE VOICE OF A MARQUIS (in the silence, behind the curtain):
Snuff that candle!

ANOTHER MARQUIS (putting his head through the opening in the curtain):
A chair!

(A chair is passed from hand to hand, over the heads of the spectators. The marquis takes it and disappears, after blowing some kisses to the boxes.)

A SPECTATOR:
Silence!

(Three knocks are heard on the stage. The curtain opens in the centre Tableau. The marquises in insolent attitudes seated on each side of the stage. The scene represents a pastoral landscape. Four little lusters light the stage; the violins play softly.)

LE BRET (in a low voice to Ragueneau):
Montfleury comes on the scene?

RAGUENEAU (also in a low voice):
Ay, 'tis he who begins.

LE BRET:
Cyrano is not here.

RAGUENEAU:
I have lost my wager.

LE BRET:
'Tis all the better!

(An air on the drone-pipes is heard, and Montfleury enters, enormously stout, in an Arcadian shepherd's dress, a hat wreathed with roses drooping over one ear, blowing into a ribboned drone pipe.)

THE PIT (applauding):
Bravo, Montfleury! Montfleury!

MONTFLEURY (after bowing low, begins the part of Phedon):
'Heureux qui loin des cours, dans un lieu solitaire,
Se prescrit a soi-meme un exil volontaire,
Et qui, lorsque Zephire a souffle sur les bois. . .'

A VOICE (from the middle of the pit):
Villain! Did I not forbid you to show your face here for month?

(General stupor. Every one turns round. Murmurs.)

DIFFERENT VOICES:
Hey?--What?--What is't?. . .

(The people stand up in the boxes to look.)

CUIGY:
'Tis he!

LE BRET (terrified):
Cyrano!

THE VOICE:
King of clowns! Leave the stage this instant!

ALL THE AUDIENCE (indignantly):
Oh!

MONTFLEURY:
But. . .

THE VOICE:
Do you dare defy me?

DIFFERENT VOICES (from the pit and the boxes):
Peace! Enough!--Play on, Montfleury--fear nothing!

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.)

Scene 1.IV.

The same. Cyrano, then Bellerose, Jodelet.

MONTFLEURY (to the marquises):
Come to my help, my lords!

A MARQUIS (carelessly):
Go on! Go on!

CYRANO:
Fat man, take warning! If you go on, I
Shall feel myself constrained to cuff your face!

THE MARQUIS:
Have done!

CYRANO:
And if these lords hold not their tongue
Shall feel constrained to make them taste my cane!

ALL THE MARQUISES (rising):
Enough!. . .Montfleury. . .

CYRANO:
If he goes not quick
I will cut off his ears and slit him up!

A VOICE:
But. . .

CYRANO:
Out he goes!

ANOTHER VOICE:
Yet. . .

CYRANO:
Is he not gone yet?
(He makes the gesture of turning up his cuffs):
Good! I shall mount the stage now, buffet-wise,
To carve this fine Italian sausage--thus!

MONTFLEURY (trying to be dignified):
You outrage Thalia in insulting me!

CYRANO (very politely):
If that Muse, Sir, who knows you not at all,
Could claim acquaintance with you--oh, believe
(Seeing how urn-like, fat, and slow you are)
That she would make you taste her buskin's sole!

THE PIT:
Montfleury! Montfleury! Come--Baro's play!

CYRANO (to those who are calling out):
I pray you have a care! If you go on
My scabbard soon will render up its blade!

(The circle round him widens.)

THE CROWD (drawing back):
Take care!

CYRANO (to Montfleury):
Leave the stage!

THE CROWD (coming near and grumbling):
Oh!--

CYRANO:
Did some one speak?

(They draw back again.)

A VOICE (singing at the back):
Monsieur de Cyrano
Displays his tyrannies:
A fig for tyrants! What, ho!
Come! Play us 'La Clorise!'

ALL THE PIT (singing):
'La Clorise!' 'La Clorise!'. . .

CYRANO:
Let me but hear once more that foolish rhyme,
I slaughter every man of you.

A BURGHER:
Oh! Samson?

CYRANO:
Yes Samson! Will you lend your jawbone, Sir?

A LADY (in the boxes):
Outrageous!

A LORD:
Scandalous!

A BURGHER:
'Tis most annoying!

A PAGE:
Fair good sport!

THE PIT:
Kss!--Montfleury. . .Cyrano!

CYRANO:
Silence!

THE PIT (wildly excited):
Ho-o-o-o-h! Quack! Cock-a-doodle-doo!

CYRANO:
I order--

A PAGE:
Miow!

CYRANO:
I order silence, all!
And challenge the whole pit collectively!--
I write your names!--Approach, young heroes, here!
Each in his turn! I cry the numbers out!--
Now which of you will come to ope the lists?
You, Sir? No! You? No! The first duellist
Shall be dispatched by me with honors due!
Let all who long for death hold up their hands!
(A silence):
Modest? You fear to see my naked blade?
Not one name?--Not one hand?--Good, I proceed!
(Turning toward the stage, where Montfleury waits in an agony):
The theater's too full, congested,--I
Would clear it out. . .If not. . .
(Puts his hand on his sword):
The knife must act!

MONTFLEURY:
I. . .

CYRANO (leaves his chair, and settles himself in the middle of the circle which has formed):
I will clap my hands thrice, thus--full moon! At the third clap, eclipse yourself!

THE PIT (amused):
Ah!

CYRANO (clapping his hands):
One!

MONTFLEURY:
I. . .

A VOICE (in the boxes):
Stay!

THE PIT:
He stays. . .he goes. . .he stays. . .

MONTFLEURY:
I think. . .Gentlemen,. . .

CYRANO:
Two!

MONTFLEURY:
I think 'twere wisest. . .

CYRANO:
Three!

(Montfleury disappears as through a trap. Tempest of laughs, whistling cries, etc.)

THE WHOLE HOUSE:
Coward. . .come back!

CYRANO (delighted, sits back in his chair, arms crossed):
Come back an if you dare!

A BURGHER:
Call for the orator!

(Bellerose comes forward and bows.)

THE BOXES:
Ah! here's Bellerose!

BELLEROSE (elegantly):
My noble lords. . .

THE PIT: