THE VOICE OF CARBON (from the other side): Ho! make haste! ROXANE: Christian! CARBON: FORM LINE! ROXANE: Christian! CARBON: HANDLE YOUR MATCH! (Ragueneau rushes up, bringing water in a helmet.) CHRISTIAN (in a dying voice): Roxane! CYRANO (quickly, whispering into Christian's ear, while Roxane distractedly tears a piece of linen from his breast, which she dips into the water, trying to stanch the bleeding): I told her all. She loves you still. (Christian closes his eyes.) ROXANE: How, my sweet love? CARBON: DRAW RAMRODS! ROXANE (to Cyrano): He is not dead? CARBON: OPEN YOUR CHARGES WITH YOUR TEETH! ROXANE: His cheek Grows cold against my own! CARBON: READY! PRESENT! ROXANE (seeing a letter in Christian's doublet): A letter!. . . 'Tis for me! (She opens it.) CYRANO (aside): My letter! CARBON: FIRE! (Musket reports--shouts--noise of battle.) CYRANO (trying to disengage his hand, which Roxane on her knees is holding): But, Roxane, hark, they fight! ROXANE (detaining him): Stay yet awhile. For he is dead. You knew him, you alone. (Weeping quietly): Ah, was not his a beauteous soul, a soul Wondrous! CYRANO (standing up--bareheaded): Ay, Roxane. ROXANE: An inspired poet? CYRANO: Ay, Roxane. ROXANE: And a mind sublime? CYRANO: Oh, yes! ROXANE: A heart too deep for common minds to plumb, A spirit subtle, charming? CYRANO (firmly): Ay, Roxane. ROXANE (flinging herself on the dead body): Dead, my love! CYRANO (aside--drawing his sword): Ay, and let me die to-day, Since, all unconscious, she mourns me--in him! (Sounds of trumpets in the distance.) DE GUICHE (appearing on the ramparts--bareheaded--with a wound on his forehead--in a voice of thunder): It is the signal! Trumpet flourishes! The French bring the provisions into camp! Hold but the place awhile! ROXANE: See, there is blood Upon the letter--tears! A VOICE (outside--shouting): Surrender! VOICE OF CADETS: No! RAGUENEAU (standing on the top of his carriage, watches the battle over the edge of the ramparts): The danger's ever greater! CYRANO (to De Guiche--pointing to Roxane): I will charge! Take her away! ROXANE (kissing the letter--in a half-extinguished voice): O God! his tears! his blood!. . . RAGUENEAU (jumping down from the carriage and rushing toward her): She's swooned away! DE GUICHE (on the rampart--to the cadets--with fury): Stand fast! A VOICE (outside): Lay down your arms! THE CADETS: No! CYRANO (to De Guiche): Now that you have proved your valor, Sir, (Pointing to Roxane): Fly, and save her! DE GUICHE (rushing to Roxane, and carrying her away in his arms): So be it! Gain but time, The victory's ours! CYRANO: Good. (Calling out to Roxane, whom De Guiche, aided by Ragueneau, is bearing away in a fainting condition): Farewell, Roxane!