RAGUENEAU (_tossing to them the coach's cushions_). These cushions are stuffed with ortolans! (_Confusion. Cushions ripped open. Laughter. Joy._) THIRD CADET. Ah! Viédaze! RAGUENEAU (_handing out bottles of red wine_). Liquid rubies!.... (_Bottles of white wine._) Melted topaz!.... ROXANE (_throwing a table-cloth that falls on Cyrano's head_). Attend to this!.... Be nimble! RAGUENEAU (_handing down one of the lanterns_). Each one of the lanterns is a diminutive larder! CYRANO (_unfolds the table-cloth, getting near to Christian, who assists him_). I must speak to you before you speak to her! RAGUENEAU (_growing lyrical_). The handle of my whip is a sausage from Arles! ROXANE (_passing the dishes and filling glasses_). Since we are ordered to die, what care we for the rest of the army?--Yes! all for the Gascons!--and, if Guiche comes, we'll not invite him! (_going from one to the other_). Come, you have plenty of time. Do not eat so fast! Drink a little.--Why have you tears in your eyes? FIRST CADET. Because it's all too good!.... ROXANE. Hush!--Red or white?--Bread, Monsieur de Carbon!--A knife?--Your plate!--Meat pie?--Champagne wine?--Chicken? CYRANO (_following her, loaded with eatables, and helping her to serve. Aside_). How I love her! ROXANE (_going up to Christian_). And what will _you_ have? CHRISTIAN. Nothing. ROXANE. Yes, just a cake and a little Muscatel! CHRISTIAN (_endeavouring to detain her_). Oh! tell me why, why you came? ROXANE. Hush! Let me first give these poor starving fellows something to eat.... I'll tell you by and by.... LE BRET (_who had gone to the rear, to pass, on the end of a lance, a loaf of bread to the sentinel on the embankment_). Here is Guiche! CYRANO. Make haste, hide bottles, dishes, plates, baskets, everything! Be lively there! Let him notice nothing!.... (_to Ragueneau_). You, get up to your box again!--Be quick! Everything out of the way! (_It has taken only a few seconds to conceal everything, under tent, doublet, cloak or hat.--Enter Guiche. He stops and sniffs the air.--Silence._) _SCENE VII._ _The same_, GUICHE. GUICHE. It smells good here! A CADET (_humming an air, unconcernedly_). To lo lo!.... GUICHE (_stopping and looking at him_). Why! what is the matter?.... You are as red as a beet!