(_Ragueneau joins his friends, the poets. Cyrano looks at him for a while, then suddenly says:_) Tell me there, Lise! (_Lise, who seems to be engaged in a very animated flirtation with the Musketeer, starts and comes down to Cyrano._) This captain.... seems to be besieging you? LISE (_offended_). Oh! my eyes have a look haughty enough to vanquish all who attack my virtue. CYRANO (_very firmly_). I like Ragueneau very much. For this reason, Mistress Lise, I forbid that anybody should make him ridiculous.[15] LISE. But you mistake.... CYRANO (_speaking loud, so as to be heard by the Musketeer_). A word to the wise.... (_He bows to the Musketeer, and, after looking at the clock, goes to the door, where he stands looking out._) LISE (_to the Musketeer, who simply returned Cyrano's bow_). Really, you surprise me!.... Why do you not answer?.... Speak of his nose.... THE MUSKETEER. His nose.... his nose.... that is easily said.... (_Retires rapidly, Lise following._) CYRANO (_from the door, signals to Ragueneau to draw away the poets_). Pst!.... RAGUENEAU (_pointing out to the Poets the door to the right_). We shall be much more comfortable in there.... CYRANO (_getting out of patience_). Pst!.... Pst!.... RAGUENEAU (_pushing the Poets along_). We'll read some more verses. FIRST POET (_in despair, with his mouth full_). But the cakes!.... SECOND POET. Let us take them along. (_They all go out, following Ragueneau, in a sort of procession, after having loaded themselves with cakes._) [14] Note.--The miserable pun on "puits" (well) was found possible to reproduce. Needless to add that this is ambitious confectioner's verse, intentionally nonsensical. [15] Note.--_Ridicuckoldulous_ would be an exact translation. _SCENE V._ CYRANO, ROXANE, THE DUENNA. CYRANO. I shall hand her my letter if I feel that there is any hope, however slight!.... (_Roxane, masked, and followed by the Duenna, appears behind the glazed door, that Cyrano opens eagerly._) Be pleased to enter!.... (_Walking up to the Duenna_). As to you, Duenna, one word! DUENNA. Four words, if you will, Sir. CYRANO. Are you fond of cake and such? DUENNA. To and beyond excess.[16] CYRANO (_taking paper bags from the counter_). Good! Here are two sonnets.... DUENNA. Ugh! CYRANO. ....That I fill with tartlets.