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14
CYRANO DE BERGERAC
The First Violin
[striking his bow on the desk].
Gentlemen violinists!
[He raises his bow.]
The Buffet-Girl.
Macaroons, lemon-drink…
[The violins begin to play.]
Christian.
Ah! I fear me she is coquettish, and over nice and fastidious! I, who am so poor of wit, how dare I speak to her—how address her? This language that they speak to-day—ay, and write—confounds me; I am but an honest soldier, and timid withal. She has ever her place, there, on the right—the empty box, see you!
Lignière
[making as if to go].
I must go.
Christian
[detaining him].
Nay, stay.
Lignière.
I cannot. D'Assoucy waits me at the tavern, and here one dies of thirst.
The Buffet-Girl
[passing before him with a tray].
Orange drink!
