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SCENE 4。II。
The same； all but Cyrano。 The day is breaking in a rosy light。 The
town of Arras is golden in the horizon。 The report of cannon is heard in
the distance； followed immediately by the beating of drums far away to
the left。 Other drums are heard much nearer。 Sounds of stirring in the
camp。 Voices of officers in the distance。
CARBON （sighing）： The reveille！ （The cadets move and stretch
themselves）： Nourishing sleep！ Thou art at an end！。 。 。I know well
what will be their first cry！
A CADET （sitting up）： I am so hungry！
ANOTHER： I am dying of hunger。
TOGETHER： Oh！
CARBON： Up with you！
THIRD CADET： Cannot move a limb。
FOURTH CADET： Nor can I。
THE FIRST （looking at himself in a bit of armor）： My tongue is
yellow。 The air at this season of the year is hard to digest。
ANOTHER： My coronet for a bit of Chester！
ANOTHER： If none can furnish to my gaster wherewith to make a
pint of chyle； I shall retire to my tentlike Achilles！
ANOTHER： Oh！ something！ were it but a crust！
CARBON （going to the tent and calling softly）： Cyrano！
ALL THE CADETS： We are dying！
CARBON （continuing to speak under his breath at the opening of the
tent）： Come to my aid； you； who have the art of quick retort and gay
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jest。 Come； hearten them up。
SECOND CADET （rushing toward another who is munching
something）： What are you crunching there？
FIRST CADET： Cannon…wads soaked in axle…grease！ 'Tis poor
hunting round about Arras！
A CADET （entering）： I have been after game。
ANOTHER （following him）： And I after fish。
ALL （rushing to the two newcomers）： Well！ what have you
brought？a pheasant？a carp？Come； show us quick！
THE ANGLER： A gudgeon！
THE SPORTSMAN： A sparrow！
ALL TOGETHER （beside themselves）： 'Tis more than can be borne！
We will mutiny！
CARBON： Cyrano！ Come to my help。
（The daylight has now come。）
SCENE 4。III。
The SAME。 Cyrano。
CYRANO （appearing from the tent； very calm； with a pen stuck
behind his ear and a book in his hand）： What is wrong？ （Silence。 To
the first cadet）： Why drag you your legs so sorrowfully？
THE CADET： I have something in my heels which weighs them
down。
CYRANO： And what may that be？
THE CADET： My stomach！
CYRANO： So have I； 'faith！
THE CADET： It must be in your way？
CYRANO： Nay； I am all the taller。
A THIRD： My stomach's hollow。
CYRANO： 'Faith； 'twill make a fine drum to sound the assault。
ANOTHER： I have a ringing in my ears。
CYRANO： No； no； 'tis false； a hungry stomach has no ears。
ANOTHER： Oh； to eat somethingsomething oily！
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CYRANO （pulling off the cadet's helmet and holding it out to him）：
Behold your salad！
ANOTHER： What； in God's name； can we devour？
CYRANO （throwing him the book which he is carrying）： The
'Iliad'。
ANOTHER： The first minister in Paris has his four meals a day！
CYRANO： 'Twere courteous an he sent you a few partridges！
THE SAME： And why not？ with wine； too！
CYRANO： A little Burgundy。 Richelieu； s'il vous plait！
THE SAME： He could send it by one of his friars。
CYRANO： Ay！ by His Eminence Joseph himself。
ANOTHER： I am as ravenous as an ogre！
CYRANO： Eat your patience； then。
THE FIRST CADET （shrugging his shoulders）： Always your
pointed word！
CYRANO： Ay； pointed words！ I would fain die thus； some soft
summer eve； Making a pointed word for a good cause。 To make a
soldier's end by soldier's sword； Wielded by some brave adversarydie
On blood…stained turf； not on a fever…bed； A point upon my lips； a point
within my heart。
CRIES FROM ALL： I'm hungry！
CYRANO （crossing his arms）： All your thoughts of meat and drink！
Bertrand the fifer！you were shepherd once； Draw from its double
leathern case your fife； Play to these greedy； guzzling soldiers。 Play
Old country airs with plaintive rhythm recurring； Where lurk sweet
echoes of the dear home…voices； Each note of which calls like a little
sister； Those airs slow； slow ascending； as the smoke…wreaths Rise
from the hearthstones of our native hamlets； Their music strikes the ear
like Gascon patois！。 。 。 （The old man seats himself； and gets his flute
ready）： Your flute was now a warrior in durance； But on its stem
your fingers are a…dancing A bird…like minuet！ O flute！ Remember
That flutes were made of reeds first； not laburnum； Make us a music
pastoral days recalling The soul…time of your youth； in country
pastures！。 。 。 （The old man begins to play the airs of Languedoc）： Hark
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to the music； Gascons！。 。 。'Tis no longer The piercing fife of campbut
'neath his fingers The flute of the woods！ No more the call to combat；
'Tis now the love…song of the wandering goat…herds！。 。 。 Hark！。 。 。'tis the
valley； the wet landes； the forest； The sunburnt shepherd…boy with
scarlet beret； The dusk of evening on the Dordogne river； 'Tis
Gascony！ Hark； Gascons； to the music！
（The cadets sit with bowed heads； their eyes have a far…off look as if
dreaming； and they surreptitiously wipe away their tears with their cuffs
and the corner of their cloaks。）
CARBON （to Cyrano in a whisper）： But you make them weep！
CYRANO： Ay； for homesickness。 A nobler pain than hunger；'tis
of the soul； not of the body！ I am well pleased to see their pain change
its viscera。 Heart…ache is better than stomach…ache。
CARBON： But you weaken their courage by playing thus on their
heart…strings！
CYRANO （making a sign to a drummer to approach）： Not I。 The
hero that sleeps in Gascon blood is ever ready to awake in them。 'Twould
suffice。 。 。
（He makes a signal； the drum beats。）
ALL THE CADETS （stand up and rush to take arms）： What？
What is it？
CYRANO （smiling）： You see！ One roll of the drum is enough！
Good…by dreams； regrets； native land； love。 。 。All that the pipe called forth
the drum has chased away！
A CADET （looking toward the back of the stage）： Ho！ here comes
Monsieur de Guiche。
ALL THE CADETS （muttering）： Ugh！。 。 。Ugh！。 。 。
CYRANO （smiling）： A flattering welcome！
A CADET： We are sick to death of him！
ANOTHER CADET： With his lace collar over his armor； playing
the fine gentleman！
ANOTHER： As if one wore linen over steel！
THE FIRST： It were good for a bandage had he boils on his neck。
THE SECOND： Another plotting courtier！
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ANOTHER CADET： His uncle's own nephew！
CARBON： For all thata Gascon。
THE FIRST： Ay； false Gascon！。 。 。trust him not。 。 。 Gascons
should ever be crack…brained。 。 。 Naught more dangerous than a rational
Gascon。
LE BRET： How pale he is！
ANOTHER： Oh！ he is hungry； just like us poor devils； but under
his cuirass； with its fine gilt nails； his stomach…ache glitters brave in the
sun。
CYRANO （hurriedly）： Let us not seem to suffer either！ Out with
your cards； pipes； and