292
CYRANO DE BERGERAC
That good, brave Christian: I would only ask
That when my body shall be cold in clay
You wear those sable mourning weeds for two,
And mourn a while for me, in mourning him.
Roxane.
I swear it you!…
Cyrano
[shivering violently, then suddenly rising].
Not there! what, seated?—no!
[They spring towards him.]
Let no one hold me up—
[He props himself against the tree.]
Let no one hold me up—Only the tree!
[Silence.]
It comes. E'en now my feet have turned to stone,
My hands are gloved with lead!
[He stands erect.]
But since Death comes,
I meet him still afoot,
[He draws his sword.]
I meet him still afoot,And sword in hand!
Le Bret.
Cyrano!
Roxane.
[half fainting.]
Cyrano!Cyrano!
[All shrink back in terror.]
