[To the Duenna.]
. . . Whether her soul's elected is ever the same, ever faultless !
Roxane
[coming out of the house].
Ah ! How handsome he is, how brilliant a wit ! And - how well I love him !
Cyrano
[smiling]
Christian has so brilliant a wit ?
Roxane.
Brighter than even your own, cousin !
Cyrano.
Be it so, with all my heart !
Roxane.
Ah ! methinks 'twere impossible that there could breathe a man on this earth skilled to say as sweetly as he all the pretty nothings that mean so much - that mean all ! At times his mind seems far away, the Muse says nought - and then, presto ! he speaks - bewitchingly ! enchantingly !
Cyrano.
[incredulously.]
No, no !
Roxane.
Fie ! That is ill said ! But lo ! men are ever thus ! Because he is fair to see, you would have it that he must be dull of speech.
Cyrano.
He hath an eloquent tongue in telling his love ?
