the table, where
he had crept):
And if you would not perish in flower o' youth,
--Oh, mention not the fatal cartilage!

ANOTHER (clapping him on the shoulder):
A word? A gesture! For the indiscreet
His handkerchief may prove his winding-sheet!

(Silence. All, with crossed arms, look at Christian. He rises and goes over
to Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, who is talking to an officer, and feigns to see
nothing.)

CHRISTIAN:
Captain!

CARBON (turning and looking at him from head to foot):
Sir!

CHRISTIAN:
Pray, what skills it best to do
To Southerners who swagger?. . .

CARBON:
Give them proof
That one may be a Northerner, yet brave!

(He turns his back on him.)

CHRISTIAN:
I thank you.

FIRST CADET (to Cyrano):
Now the tale!

ALL:
The tale!

CYRANO (coming toward them):
The tale?. . .
(All bring their stools up, and group round him, listening eagerly. Christian
is astride a chair):
Well! I went all alone to meet the band.
The moon was shining, clock-like, full i' th' sky,
When, suddenly, some careful clockwright passed
A cloud of cotton-wool across the case
That held this silver watch. And, presto! heigh!
The night was inky black, and all the quays
Were hidden in the murky dark. Gadsooks!
One could see nothing further. . .

CHRISTIAN:
Than one's nose!

(Silence. All slowly rise, looking in terror at Cyrano, who has stopped--
dumfounded. Pause.)

CYRANO:
Who on God's earth is that?

A CADET (whispering):
It is a man
Who joined to-day.

CYRANO (making a step toward Christian):
To-day?

CARBON (in a low voice):
Yes. . .his name is
The Baron de Neuvil. . .

CYRANO (checking himself):
Good! It is well. . .
(He turns pale, flushes, makes as if to fall on Christian):
I. . .
(He controls himself):
What said I?. . .
(With a burst of rage):
MORDIOUS!. . .
(Then continues calmly):
That it was dark.
(Astonishment. The cadets reseat themselves, staring at him):
On I went, thinking, 'For a knavish cause
I may provoke some great man, some great prince,
Who certainly could break'. . .

CHRISTIAN:
My nose!. . .

(Every one starts up. Christian balances on his chair.)

CYRANO (in a choked voice):
. . .'My teeth!
Who would break my teeth, and I, imprudent-like,
Was poking. . .'

CHRISTIAN:
My nose!. . .

CYRANO:
'My finger,. . .in the crack
Between the tree and bark! He may prove str