CYRANO: Ah! Let the world go burn! She knows I live! LE BRET: Now you'll be calm, I hope? CYRANO (beside himself for joy): Calm? I now calm? I'll be frenetic, frantic,--raving mad! Oh, for an army to attack!--a host! I've ten hearts in my breast; a score of arms; No dwarfs to cleave in twain!. . . (Wildly): No! Giants now! (For a few moments the shadows of the actors have been moving on the stage, whispers are heard--the rehearsal is beginning. The violinists are in their places.) A VOICE FROM THE STAGE: Hollo there! Silence! We rehearse! CYRANO (laughing): We go! (He moves away. By the big door enter Cuigy, Brissaille, and some officers, holding up Lignière, who is drunk.) CUIGY: Cyrano! CYRANO: Well, what now? CUIGY: A lusty thrush They're bringing you! CYRANO (recognizing him): Lignière!. . .What has chanced? CUIGY: He seeks you! BRISSAILLE: He dare not go home! CYRANO: Why not? LIGNIÈRE (in a husky voice, showing him a crumpled letter): This letter warns me. . .that a hundred men. . . Revenge that threatens me. . .that song, you know-- At the Porte de Nesle. To get to my own house I must pass there. . .I dare not!. . .Give me leave To sleep to-night beneath your roof! Allow. . . CYRANO: A hundred men? You'll sleep in your own bed! LIGNIÈRE (frightened): But-- CYRANO (in a terrible voice, showing him the lighted lantern held by the porter, who is listening curiously): Take the lantern. (Lignière seizes it): Let us start! I swear That I will make your bed to-night myself! (To the officers): Follow; some stay behind, as witnesses! CUIGY: A hundred!. . . CYRANO: Less, to-night--would be too few! (The actors and actresses, in their costumes, have come down from the stage, and are listening.) LE BRET: But why embroil yourself? CYRANO: Le Bret who scolds! LE BRET: That worthless drunkard!-- CYRANO (slapping Lignière on the shoulder): Wherefore? For this cause;-- This wine-barrel, this cask of Burgundy, Did, on a day, an action full of grace; As he was leaving church, he saw his love Take holy water--he, who is affeared At water's taste, ran quickly to the stoup, And drank it all, to the last drop!. . . AN ACTRESS: Indeed, that was a graceful thing! CYRANO: Ay, was it not? THE ACTRESS (to the others): But why a hundred men 'gainst one poor rhymer? CYRANO: March! (To the officers): Gentlemen, when you shall see me charge, Bear me no succor, none, whate'er the odds! ANOTHER ACTRESS (jumping from the stage): Oh! I shall come and see! CYRANO: Come, then! ANOTHER (jumping down--to an old actor): And you?. . . CYRANO: Come all--the Doctor, Isabel, Leander, Come, for you shall add, in a motley swarm, The farce Italian to this Spanish drama! ALL THE WOMEN (dancing for joy): Bravo!--a mantle, quick!--my hood! JODELET: Come on!