SCENE V
CYRANO, ROXANE, the DUENNA.
CYRANO. Ah! if I see but the faint glimmer of hope, then I draw out
my letter!
(ROXANE, masked, followed by the DUENNA, appears at the glass pane of the door. He opens quickly.)
Enter!... (Walking up to the DUENNA.) Two words with you, Duenna.
THE DUENNA. Four, Sir, an it like you.
CYRANO. Are you fond of sweet things?
THE DUENNA. Ay, I could eat myself sick on them!
CYRANO. (catching up some of the paper bags from the counter).
Good. See you these two sonnets of Monsieur Beuserade...
THE DUENNA. Hey?
CYRANO. ...Which I fill for you with cream cakes!
THE DUENNA. (changing her expression). Ha!
CYRANO. What say you to the cake they call a little puff?
THE DUENNA. If made with cream, Sir, I love them passing well.
CYRANO. Here I plunge six for your eating into the bosom of a poem
by Saint Amant! And in these verses of Chapelain I glide a lighter
morsel. Stay, love you hot cakes?
THE DUENNA. Ay, to the core of my heart!
CYRANO. (filling her arms with the bags). Pleasure me then; go eat
them all in the street.
THE DUENNA. But...
CYRANO. (pushing her out). And come not back till the very last
crumb be eaten!
(He shuts the door, comes down towards ROXANE, and, uncovering, stands at a respectful distance from her.)