Roxane; the Duke de Grammont, formerly Count de Guiche. Then Le Bret and Ragueneau. THE DUKE: And you stay here still--ever vainly fair, Ever in weeds? ROXANE: Ever. THE DUKE: Still faithful? ROXANE: Still. THE DUKE (after a pause): Am I forgiven? ROXANE: Ay, since I am here. (Another pause.) THE DUKE: His was a soul, you say?. . . ROXANE: Ah!--when you knew him! THE DUKE: Ah, may be!. . .I, perchance, too little knew him! . . .And his last letter, ever next your heart? ROXANE: Hung from this chain, a gentle scapulary. THE DUKE: And, dead, you love him still? ROXANE: At times,--meseems He is but partly dead--our hearts still speak, As if his love, still living, wrapped me round! THE DUKE (after another pause): Cyrano comes to see you? ROXANE: Often, ay. Dear, kind old friend! We call him my 'Gazette.' He never fails to come: beneath this tree They place his chair, if it be fine:--I wait, I broider;--the clock strikes;--at the last stroke I hear,--for now I never turn to look-- Too sure to hear his cane tap down the steps; He seats himself:--with gentle raillery He mocks my tapestry that's never done; He tells me all the gossip of the week. . . (Le Bret appears on the steps): Why, here's Le Bret! (Le Bret descends): How goes it with our friend? LE BRET: Ill!--very ill. THE DUKE: How? ROXANE (to the Duke): He exaggerates! LE BRET: All that I prophesied: desertion, want!. . . His letters now make him fresh enemies!-- Attacking the sham nobles, sham devout, Sham brave,--the thieving authors,--all the world! ROXANE: Ah! but his sword still holds them all in check; None get the better of him. THE DUKE (shaking his head): Time will show! LE BRET: Ah, but I fear for him--not man's attack,-- Solitude--hunger--cold December days, That wolf-like steal into his chamber drear:-- Lo! the assassins that I fear for him! Each day he tightens by one hole his belt: That poor nose--tinted like old ivory: He has retained one shabby suit of serge. THE DUKE: Ay, there is one who has no prize of Fortune!-- Yet is not to be pitied! LE BRET (with a bitter smile): My Lord Marshal!. . . THE DUKE: Pity him not! He has lived out his vows, Free in his thoughts, as in his actions free! LE BRET (in the same tone): My Lord!. . . THE DUKE (haughtily): True! I have all, and he has naught;. . . Yet I were proud to take his hand! (Bowing to Roxane): Adieu! ROXANE: I go with you. (The Duke bows to Le Bret, and goes with Roxane toward the steps.)