Cyrano.
—What say you, Sir?I say, that Henri Quatre
Had not, by any dangerous odds, been forced
To strip himself of his white helmet plume.
[Silent delight. The cards fall, the dice rattle. The smoke is puffed.]
De Guiche.
The ruse succeeded, though!
[Same suspension of play, etc.]
Cyrano.
The ruse succeeded, though!Oh, may be! But
One does not lightly abdicate the honour
To serve as target to the enemy.
[Cards, dice, fall again, and the Cadets smoke with evident delight.]
Had I been present when your scarf fell low,
—Our courage, Sir, is of a different sort—
I would have picked it up and put it on.
De Guiche.
Oh, ay! Another Gascon boast!
Cyrano.
Oh, ay! Another Gascon boast!A boast?
Lend it to me. I pledge myself, to-night,
—With it across my breast,—to lead th' assault.
