Roxane.
One would think so, to look at him!
[Changing her tone.]
How mean you to play your revenge on Cyrano? Perchance you think to put him i' the thick of the shots? Nay, believe me, that were a poor vengeance—he would love such a post better than aught else! I know the way to wound his pride far more keenly!
De Guiche.
What then? tell . . .
Roxane.
If, when the regiment march to Arras, he were left here with his beloved boon companions, the Cadets, to sit with crossed arms so long as the war lasted! There is your method, would you enrage a man of his kind; cheat him of his chance of mortal danger, and you punish him right fiercely.
De Guiche.
[coming nearer],
O woman! woman! Who but a woman had e'er devised so subtle a trick?
Roxane.
See you not how he will eat out his heart, while his friends gnaw their thick fists for that they are deprived of the battle? So are you best avenged.
De Guiche.
You love me, then, a little?
[She smiles.]
I would fain—seeing you thus espouse my cause, Roxane—believe it a proof of love!
