CYRANO
[beginning to be tempted and attracted].
In sooth, I would . . .
DE GUICHE.
He is a critic skilled :
He may correct a line or two, at most.
CYRANO
[whose face stiffen* at once].
Impossible ! My blood congeals to think
That other hand should change a comma's dot.
DE GUICHE.
But when a Terse approves itself to him
He pays it dear, good friend.
CYRANO.
He pays less dear
Than I myself; when a verse pleases me
I pay myself, and sing it to myself!
DE GUICHE.
You are proud.
CYRANO.
Really ? You have noticed that ?
A CADET
[entering, with a string of old battered plumed beaver hats, full of holes, slung on his sword],
See, Cyrano, this morning, on the quay
What strange bright- feathered game we caught!
The hats
O’ the fugitives . . ,
