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cyrano de bergerac(伯吉拉克的赛拉诺)-第10章

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    CYRANO:          What hour is it now; Ragueneau? 

    RAGUENEAU   (stopping   short   in   the   act   of   thrusting   to   look   at   the 

clock):        Five    minutes     after  six!。  。   。'I  touch!'  (He    straightens 

himself):     。 。 。Oh! to write a ballade! 

    LISE     (to  Cyrano;   who;   as  he  passes   by   the  counter;  has  absently 

shaken hands with her):        What's wrong with your hand? 

    CYRANO:          Naught; a slight cut。 

    RAGUENEAU:             Have you been in some danger? 

    CYRANO:          None in the world。 

    LISE (shaking her finger at him):          Methinks you speak not the truth 

in saying that! 

    CYRANO:          Did you see my nose quiver when I spoke?              'Faith; it 

must have been a monstrous lie that should move it! (Changing his tone): 

I   wait   some   one   here。 Leave   us   alone;   and   disturb   us   for   naught   an   it 

were not for crack of doom! 

    RAGUENEAU:             But 'tis impossible; my poets are coming。 。 。 

    LISE (ironically):       Oh; ay; for their first meal o' the day! 

    CYRANO:          Prythee; take them aside when I shall make you sign to 

do so。 。 。What's o'clock? 

    RAGUENEAU:             Ten minutes after six。 

    CYRANO         (nervously    seating   himself    at  Ragueneau's     table;  and 

drawing some paper toward him):            A pen!。 。 。 



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    RAGUENEAU (giving him the one from behind his ear):                       Herea 

swan's quill。 

    A   MUSKETEER   (with   fierce   mustache;   enters;   and   in   a   stentorian 

voice):     Good…day! 

     (Lise goes up to him quickly。) 

    CYRANO (turning round):             Who's that? 

    RAGUENEAU:              'Tis a friend of my wifea terrible warriorat least 

so says he himself。 

    CYRANO         (taking   up   the  pen;   and   motioning    Ragueneau      away): 

Hush! (To himself):         I will write; fold it; give it her; and fly! (Throws 

down   the   pen):     Coward!。   。   。But   strike   me   dead   if   I   dare   to   speak   to 

her;。 。 。ay; even one single word! (To Ragueneau):            What time is it? 

    RAGUENEAU:             A quarter after six!。 。 。 

    CYRANO (striking his breast):            Aya single word of all those here! 

here!    But writing; 'tis easier done。 。 。 (He takes up the pen):           Go to; I 

will write it; that love…letter!    Oh!    I have writ it and rewrit it in my own 

mind so oft that it lies there ready for pen and ink; and if I lay but my soul 

by my letter…sheet; 'tis naught to do but to copy from it。 

     (He   writes。   Through   the   glass   of   the   door   the   silhouettes   of   their 

figures move uncertainly and hesitatingly。) 



                                   SCENE 2。IV。 



    Ragueneau;   Lise;   the   musketeer。     Cyrano   at   the   little   table   writing。 

The poets; dressed in black; their stockings ungartered; and covered with 

mud。 

    LISE     (entering;    to  Ragueneau):        Here     they   come;   your    mud… 

bespattered friends! 

    FIRST POET (entering; to Ragueneau):               Brother in art!。 。 。 

     SECOND POET (to Ragueneau; shaking his hands):                   Dear brother! 

    THIRD POET:           High soaring eagle among pastry…cooks! (He sniffs): 

Marry! it smells good here in your eyrie! 

    FOURTH POET:             'Tis at Phoebus' own rays that thy roasts turn! 

    FIFTH POET:          Apollo among master…cooks 



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     RAGUENEAU (whom they surround and embrace):                      Ah! how quick 

a man feels at his ease with them!。 。 。 

     FIRST  POET:         We   were   stayed   by  the   mob;   they   are   crowded   all 

round the Porte de Nesle!。 。 。 

     SECOND        POET:        Eight    bleeding    brigand    carcasses    strew   the 

pavements thereall slit open with sword…gashes! 

     CYRANO   (raising   his   head   a   minute):      Eight?。   。   。hold;   methought 

seven。 

     (He goes on writing。) 

     RAGUENEAU (to Cyrano):                Know you who might be the hero of 

the fray? 

     CYRANO (carelessly):           Not I。 

     LISE (to the musketeer):         And you?      Know you? 

     THE MUSKETEER (twirling his mustache):                   Maybe! 

     CYRANO   (writing   a   little   way   off:he   is   heard   murmuring   a   word 

from time to time):        'I love thee!' 

     FIRST POET:          'Twas one man; say they all; ay; swear to it; one man 

who; single…handed; put the whole band to the rout! 

     SECOND POET:             'Twas a strange sight!pikes and cudgels strewed 

thick upon the ground。 

     CYRANO (writing):           。 。 。'Thine eyes'。 。 。 

     THIRD  POET:          And   they  were   picking   up hats   all   the   way  to   the 

Quai d'Orfevres! 

     FIRST POET:          Sapristi! but he must have been a ferocious。 。 。 

     CYRANO (same play):             。 。 。'Thy lips'。 。 。 

     FIRST POET:          'Twas a parlous fearsome giant that was the author of 

such exploits! 

     CYRANO (same play):             。 。 。'And when I see thee come; I faint for 

fear。' 

     SECOND        POET     (filching   a  cake):     What     hast  rhymed     of  late; 

Ragueneau? 

     CYRANO (same play):             。 。 。'Who worships thee'。 。 。 (He stops; just 

as   he   is   about   to   sign;   and   gets   up;   slipping   the   letter   into   his   doublet): 

No need I sign; since I give it her myself。 



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    RAGUENEAU (to second poet):              I have put a recipe into verse。 

    THIRD POET (seating himself by a plate of cream…puffs):                 Go to! 

Let us hear these verses! 

    FOURTH POET (looking at a cake which he has taken):                  Its cap is 

all a' one side! 

    (He makes one bite of the top。) 

    FIRST POET:         See how this gingerbread woos the famished rhymer 

with its almond eyes; and its eyebrows of angelica! 

    (He takes it。) 

    SECOND POET:            We listen。 

    THIRD      POET   (squeezing     a  cream…puff    gently):    How     it  laughs! 

Till its very cream runs over! 

    SECOND POET (biting a bit off the great lyre of pastry):                This is 

the first time in my life that ever I drew any means of nourishing me from 

the lyre! 

    RAGUENEAU   (who   has   put   himself   ready   for   reciting;   cleared   his 

throat; settled his cap; struck an attitude):     A recipe in verse!。 。 。 

    SECOND POET (to first; nudging him):              You are breakfasting? 

    FIRST POET (to second):          And you dining; methinks。 

    RAGUENEAU:             How almond tartlets are made。 

       Beat    your   eggs   up;  light  and   quick;         Froth    them   thick; 

Mingle     with   them   while   you   beat     Juice   of  lemon;   essence    fine; 

Then combine        The burst milk of almonds sweet。 

       Circle with a custard paste           The slim waist       Of your tartlet… 

molds;    the  top     With    a  skillful  finger  print;        Nick    and   dint; 

Round their edge; then; drop by drop;          In its little dainty bed       Your 

cream     shed:    In   the  oven   place   each   mold:     Reappearing;      softly 

browned;         The renowned         Almond tartlets you behold! 

    THE POETS (with mouths crammed full):               Exquisite!    Delicious! 

    A POET (choking):         Homph! 

    (They go up; eating。) 

    CYRANO         (who    has   been   watching;     goes   toward    Ragueneau): 

Lulled by your voice; did you see how they were stuffing themselves? 

    RAGUENEAU           (in  a  low  voice;   smiling):    Oh;    ay!  I   see  well 



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enough; but I never will seem to look; fearing to distress them; thus I gain 

a double pleasure when I recite to them my poems; for I leave those poor 

fellows who have not breakfasted free to eat; even while I gratify my own 

dearest foible; see you? 

     CYRANO (clapping him on the shoulder):                 Friend; I like you right 

well!。 。 。 (Ragueneau goes after his friends。         Cyrano follows him with his 

eyes;    then;  rather  sharply):      Ho    there!   Lise!   (Lise;   who   is  talking 

tenderly to the musketeer; starts; and comes down toward Cyrano):                    So 

this fine captain is laying siege to you? 

     LISE (offended):        One haughty glance of   my eye can conquer   any 

man that should dare venture 
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