Somebody should come now to besiege the Spanish. LE BRET. Do not joke so.--When I think that a life, precious as yours is, can be risked daily just to carry.... (_Cyrano walks toward one of the tents._) Where are you going? CYRANO. I am going to write another letter. (_Enters tent._) _SCENE II._ _The same, less_ CYRANO. _Day is dawning. Rosy tints in the sky, and golden ones on the distant city. A gun is heard, then drums beat in the distance, to the left. Other drums are heard, successively, nearer, and nearer, until they sound on the stage, the noise then receding gradually, toward the right. Awakening of the Camp. Officers' commands in the distance._ CARBON (_sighing_). Reveille!.... Alas! (_the Cadets begin rising._) Their dream of dinner is finished.... I know what their cry will be now. A CADET (_rising_). I'm hungry! ANOTHER CADET. I'm half dead! OTHER CADETS. We are dead! quite! CARBON. Get up! SEVERAL CADETS. Can't! FIRST CADET (_using his breastplate as a looking-glass_). My tongue is yellow. Indigestion! ANOTHER CADET. As to me, if my gastric organ gets not wherewith to produce a pint of chyle, I'll retire into my tent--like Achilles. SEVERAL CADETS. Bread! Something to eat! Now! CARBON (_going to the tent of Cyrano and speaking low to him_). Cyrano, help! Come with your ready wit, and put some life into them. Give them new courage. A CADET (_to another who is chewing something_). What are you nibbling at? THE OTHER CADET. Cannon wad fried in axle grease! There is but little game around Arras. ANOTHER CADET (_entering_). I've been out shooting. STILL ANOTHER CADET (_likewise entering_). And I've been fishing in the Scarpe. ALL THE CADETS (_rushing up to them_). What have you killed? What have you caught?--A pheasant?--A carp?--Quick, quick, show them! THE FISHERMAN. A gudgeon! THE HUNTSMAN. A sparrow! ALL THE CADETS (_exasperated_). Enough, enough! too much!--let us mutiny! CARBON. Help, Cyrano. (_Daylight has come._) _SCENE III._ _The same_, CYRANO. CYRANO (_leaving his tent, perfectly tranquil, a pen over his ear, book in hand_). Hey!.... (_Silence. To the first Cadet_). What makes you drag your feet along so?