Roxane.
[a little chilled],
How quickly you withdraw !
Cyrano.
Yes, I withdraw
Without withdrawing ! Hurt I modesty ?
If so - the kiss I asked - oh, grant it not.
Christian
[to Cyrano, pulling him by his cloak].
Why?
Cyrano.
Silence, Christian ! Hush !
Roxane.
[leaning over],
What whisper you ?
Cyrano.
I chid myself for my too bold advances ;
Said, ' Silence, Christian ! '
[The lutes begin to play.]
Hark ! Wait a while, . . .
Steps come !
[Roxane shuts the window. Cyrano listens to the lutes, one of which plays a merry, the other a melancholy, tune.]
Why, they play sad - then gay - then sad !
What ? Neither man nor woman ? - oh ! a monk !
[Enter a Capuchin Friar, with a lantern. He goes from house to house, looking at every door.]
