s door is bandaged with linen like a sore thumb.

At the rising of the curtain the duenna is seated on the bench.

The window on Roxane's balcony is wide open.

Ragueneau is standing near the door in a sort of livery. He has just finished
relating something to the duenna, and is wiping his eyes.

Scene 3.I.

Ragueneau, the duenna. Then Roxane, Cyrano, and two pages.

RAGUENEAU:
--And then, off she went, with a musketeer! Deserted and ruined too, I
would make an end of all, and so hanged myself. My last breath was drawn:--
then in comes Monsieur de Bergerac! He cuts me down, and begs his cousin to
take me for her steward.

THE DUENNA:
Well, but how came it about that you were thus ruined?

RAGUENEAU:
Oh! Lise loved the warriors, and I loved the poets! What cakes there were
that Apollo chanced to leave were quickly snapped up by Mars. Thus ruin was
not long a-coming.

THE DUENNA (rising, and calling up to the open window):
Roxane, are you ready? They wait for us!

ROXANE'S VOICE (from the window):
I will but put me on a cloak!

THE DUENNA (to Ragueneau, showing him the door opposite):
They wait us there opposite, at Clomire's house. She receives them all
there to-day--the precieuses, the poets; they read a discourse on the Tender
Passion.

RAGUENEAU:
The Tender Passion?

THE DUENNA (in a mincing voice):
Ay, indeed!
(Calling up to the window):
Roxane, an you come not down quickly, we shall miss the discourse on the
Tender Passion!

ROXANE'S VOICE:
I come! I come!

(A sound of stringed instruments approaching.)

CYRANO'S VOICE (behind the scenes, singing):
La, la, la, la!

THE DUENNA (surprised):
They serenade us?

CYRANO (followed by two pages with arch-lutes):
I tell you they are demi-semi-quavers, demi-semi-fool!

FIRST PAGE (ironically):
You know then, Sir, to distinguish between semi-quavers and demi-semi-
quavers?

CYRANO:
Is not every disciple of Gassendi a musician?

THE PAGE (playing and singing):
La, la!

CYRANO (snatching the lute from him, and going on with the phrase):
In proof of which, I can continue! La, la, la, la!

ROXANE (appearing on the balcony):
What? 'Tis you?

CYRANO (going on with the air, and singing to it):
'Tis I, who come to serenade your lilies, and pay my devoir to your ro-o-
oses!

ROXANE:
I am coming down!

(She leaves the balcony.)

THE DUENNA (pointing to the pages):
How come these