To-day what can he have become? RAGUENEAU (_entering rapidly_). Oh! Madam! (_noticing Le Bret_). Oh! Sir! ROXANE (_smiling_). Tell your misfortunes to Le Bret. I shall be back presently. (_Exit Roxane, with the Duke, without listening to Ragueneau, who comes down toward Le Bret._) _SCENE III._ LE BRET, RAGUENEAU. RAGUENEAU. After all, since you are here, Sir, it is just as well that she should be kept in ignorance! I was on my way to see your friend, this afternoon, when, as I was nearing his door, I saw him coming out. As I was endeavouring to overtake him, and as he was turning the corner, a window above him opened, and,--was it through accident? perhaps! a lackey dropped upon him a heavy log of wood. LE BRET. Cowards!.... Abominable! RAGUENEAU. Our friend, Sir, our poet, lay there on the ground with a large hole in his head! LE BRET. Is he dead? RAGUENEAU. No! but in what a state! I carried him up to his room... his room! You should see what it is! LE BRET. He is in great pain? RAGUENEAU. No, Sir, he has not recovered his senses. LE BRET. You found a doctor? RAGUENEAU. Yes, one who was good enough to come. LE BRET. Unfortunate Cyrano!--We must break the news gently to Roxane.--And what said the doctor? RAGUENEAU. He spoke of fever.... meningitis. Oh! if you saw him.... with his poor head bandaged!.... Come quickly, Sir, there is nobody with him! It would be death to him if he left his bed! LE BRET (_urging him toward the right_). This way is shorter; through the Chapel! ROXANE (_appearing on the porch, and seeing Le Bret and Ragueneau running up the colonnade to the Chapel!_) Monsieur Le Bret! (_Exeunt Le Bret and Ragueneau without answering._) No doubt another of good Ragueneau's troubles. _SCENE IV._ ROXANE _alone, two_ SISTERS _a moment_. How beautiful these last September days! My sadness fain would smile. Spring's ardour oft Offends our grief, but Autumn chastens it. (_She sits down before her work. Two sisters sally from the house carrying a large armchair that they place under the tree._) Ah! here's the chair in which Cyrano sits. (_Exeunt Sisters._) The hour strikes.... he's coming.--Where are my skeins!--He's not here yet? The first time he is late.... My thimble.... Here it is. Some sister preaching to him, no doubt. (_A pause._)