e 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 t