CYRANO (_noticing Roxane, who is returning_). Hush! not in her presence! (_Exit rapidly, under his tent._) _SCENE VIII._ ROXANE, CHRISTIAN; _in the rear_ CADETS, _going and coming_: CARBON _and_ GUICHE _giving orders_. ROXANE (_running up to Christian_). And now, dear Christian!.... CHRISTIAN (_taking both her hands_). And now tell me why, over impassable roads, why, through the ranks of brutal soldiery, you joined me here. ROXANE. On account of your letters. CHRISTIAN. My letters? ROXANE. Yes, and it is your fault if I took so many risks. Your letters intoxicated me. Ah! remember how many you wrote me, during this last month, and all so beautiful! CHRISTIAN. What! Do you mean to say that for a few short love letters?.... ROXANE. Your letters, yes! My ardent love for you, Love passionate, was born that night of bliss When, from beneath my willing balcony, In accents that to both of us were new, A soul revealed itself to me....'twas yours.... So that, each time your letters came, it seemed As if I lived those minutes once again, And, rapture-bound, I heard your voice itself, Those tender tones that twined around me then. So here am I! Penelope would not Have persevered in waiting labour if Ulysses could have written grandly so; But, daft as Helen, she, to join him, would Have flung away her tedious worsted balls. CHRISTIAN. But.... ROXANE. Yes, I read and read, while every thrill Confirmed me yours. Each leaflet that I held Was like a petal wafted from your soul, Each word was one of love sincere and strong.... CHRISTIAN. Indeed, sincere and strong?--You felt it so?.... ROXANE. Oh! yes, so strongly! CHRISTIAN. And, Roxane, you came.... ROXANE. I came because.... O Christian, dearest conqueror, You'd bid me rise, if I should clasp your knees; So 'tis my soul that's at your feet. My soul You never can remove from reverence. I came to seek forgiveness (and the time Is meet, indeed, since death is near, perhaps!), Your pardon for--how frivolous I was!-- Once loving you for beauty's sake alone. CHRISTIAN (_frightened_). Roxane! ROXANE. But later, dear, with growing sense, --A bird will hop before it learns to soar-- I marked your soul outshining e'en your looks, And then I loved you more for both. CHRISTIAN.