Cyrano de Bergerac Page #3

Cyrano.

Come in and eat.

- What time is it?

- Not quite seven.

Oh, now, please, Cyrano.

A man without breakfast is like...

No.

Could she have changed her mind?

Aw, she wouldn't dare.

We were magnificent last night.

And at the theater, too.

'Then, as I end the refrain'...

When she arrives.

Where can we converse undisturbed?

Wherever you like.

My shop is yours.

The little dining room

is quite romantic.

'Thrust home!'

Yea gods, what a line.

- 'Then as I end the re...'

- Vanish.

- Uh, huh, she's come?

- Shhhh.

I swear.

Welcome.

- A pardon, one word.

- Oh, yes?

Have you a good digestion?

Oh, wonderful.

Eh, here are some clairs.

Uh, creampuffs.

Some, uh, jellyrolls.

And do you like nature?

I adore it.

Go out and eat these in the sunshine.

Do not return.

But why?

Until you have finished them.

What do I do then?

Blessed above all others be the hour

when you remember to remember me,

and came to tell me...what?

To tell you that...

Before I dare tell you I...

Are you, I wonder, still

the same big brother almost

that you used to be

when we were children,

playing by the pond

in the old garden down there?

At Bergerac.

Those lovely summers.

You use to make swords

out of bulrushes.

And you, dandelions

also golden hair.

In those days

I could tell you everything.

And you did

everything I wished.

Little Roxane, a sweet tyrone

with short skirts and long hair.

Was I pretty?

Not too plain.

Sometimes when you had fallen

or hurt your hand,

you used to come running to me,

and I would be your mother and say,

oh, with a very grownup voice,

'Now, what have you been doing to yourself?'

'Let me see.'

- Oh!

- No one that.

Wait, let me see.

Still. At your age?

Now, how did you do that?

Playing with the big boys

at the Place de Neanne.

Come here.

Such a wise little mother.

And tell me, while I wash this

blood away, how many you played with?

- Oh, about a hundred.

- A hundred?

- More or less.

- It can't be.

No.

Tell me what you were

going to tell me...

if you dared.

I think I do dare, now.

It seems so like

those happy days long ago.

Yes, I dare.

Listen...I love someone.

Yes?

Someone who does not know.

Yes?

Someone who loves me, too,

but is afraid of me and keeps away

and never says one word.

Yes.

Give my that hand.

Why, how hot it is.

Yes, he loves me.

I am sure of it.

Yes.

And he is a soldier, too,

in your own regiment,

your own company.

Yes.

Such a man.

He is proud, noble, young, brave,

beautiful!

Beautiful.

What's the matter?

Oh, nothing.

It's this, my hand.

I love him.

That is all.

And I have never seen him

anywhere except in the theater.

You have never spoken?

Only with our hearts.

Well, then, how do you know?

Well, people talk about people,

and I hear things, and...

and I know.

You say he is in the guards?

His name?

Baron Christian de Neuvillette.

You know him?

He is not in the guards.

Yes, since last week.

He is only lately

come to Paris...

from Normandy.

So soon.

So soon we lose our hearts.

What...

Monsieur de Bergerac

I have eaten all the cakes.

Good.

Now, go out and enjoy nature.

But my dear child, you love

only words, wit, poetry.

Why, for all you know,

the man may be a savage or a fool.

Not with such eyes.

I read his soul in them.

Yes, all our souls are

written in our eyes.

And you have brought

me here to tell me this?

I do not yet quite understand,

madam, the reason for your confidence.

They say, that in your company,

it frightens me, you are all Gascon.

We pick a quarrel with any outsider

who intrudes himself.

Is that what you have heard?

- I'm so afraid for him.

- Not without reason.

And I thought you...

it's you whom they all respect and fear.

You want me to defend

your little Baron?

Will you?

Just for me.

Because I have always

been your friend.

And this is what

you want of me?

Will you be his friend?

I will be his friend.

And never let him

fight a duel.

No, never.

Promise?

I promise.

Oh, thank you. Thank you.

I knew I could rely on you.

Well, now I must go.

Oh, you never told

me about last night.

Why, you must

have been a hero.

Have write and tell me all about it,

and...about himself.

Oh, you are a darling.

We are great friends, are we not?

He must write to me.

A hundred men against one.

You shall tell me the whole story

someday when we have time.

A hundred men.

What courage!

I have done better.

Well?

Let us leave this place.

But the whole company

is on its way here.

Oh, no.

On my heels. Naturally I told

them all about last night.

They're wild.

Here they are.

- Yes, but, why did you?

- Perhaps I can stop them.

Never mind.

Cyrano!

Eight dead men in the street.

Scandalous.

You know my edict

against dueling, nephew.

I expect to have it enforced.

Furthermore, I wish to know

who was responsible for last night's

outrage at the Place de Neanne.

I understand, Your Eminence.

Very well.

And now I have news

that should be more

to you liking.

I fear, in confidence, our

uneasy armistice with Spain is doomed.

My colonelcy?

You commission has been prepared.

Oh, thank you, uncle, thank you.

Oh, one thing more.

Last night at the theater,

the duel in rhyme,

that guardsman with a nose.

- Bergerac, that impossible Gascon.

- Yes, impossible.

- His treatment of Montfleury.

- Abominable.

- The arrogance with which he closed the play.

- Incredible.

- It will be a miracle if the Vicomte survives.

- A sorrow.

What will you do

with him, Your Eminence?

I? Nothing.

I thought I might

leave that to you.

To me?

Yes. Place him somewhere

in your service,

with a comfortable allowance.

He looked a little threadbare.

I...You...But, Your Eminence.

You detest dueling.

Of course I do.

Why didn't you prevent it?

I should much prefer

that monsieur de Beregrac

live by the pen,

rather than die by the sword.

Do you not agree, Antoine?

By all means, Your Eminence.

By all means.

'And then, as I end the refrain...

thrust home.'

Monsieur de Bergerac.

Your Excellency.

I have come to express my...

admiration for both

your exploits last night.

Indeed. Thank you.

My dear fellow,

we may have had our differences,

but I am disposed

to forget them.

That is very generous

of you, sir.

No, truly.

You are, it seems, a man

of many skills.

A rare combination

soldier and poet.

- Would you care to join my following?

- No, sir.

I do not follow.

I am told you have

written a play.

As you know, my uncle,

the Cardinal, is also a dramatist.

I might help you there.

Cyrano, now at last

you can have it performed.

Why not?

I could take it to him.

Really?

Of course.

Let him rewrite a few lines

here and there, and

he'll find a theater for you.

Rewrite...my lines?

Impossible.

Uh, when he likes a thing,

he pays well.

Yes, but not so well as I.

When I have made a line

that sings itself

I pay myself a hundred times.

You are proud, my friend.

You have observed that?

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