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and diminutive apprentices； their caps profusely decorated with cock's feathers and wings of guinea…fowl。
On metal and wicker plates they are bringing in piles of cakes and tarts。
Tables laden with rolls and dishes of food。 Other tables surrounded with chairs are ready for the consumers。
A small table in a corner covered with papers； at which Ragueneau is seated writing on the rising of the curtain。
Scene 2。I。
Ragueneau； pastry…cooks； then Lise。 Ragueneau is writing； with an inspired air； at a small table； and counting on his fingers。
FIRST PASTRY…COOK （bringing in an elaborate fancy dish）： Fruits in nougat！
SECOND PASTRY…COOK （bringing another dish）： Custard！
THIRD PASTRY…COOK （bringing a roast； decorated with feathers）： Peacock！
FOURTH PASTRY…COOK （bringing a batch of cakes on a slab）： Rissoles！
FIFTH PASTRY…COOK （bringing a sort of pie…dish）： Beef jelly！
RAGUENEAU （ceasing to write； and raising his head）： Aurora's silver rays begin to glint e'en now on the copper pans； and thou； O Ragueneau！ must perforce stifle in thy breast the God of Song！ Anon shall come the hour of the lute！now 'tis the hour of the oven！ （He rises。 To a cook）： You； make that sauce longer； 'tis too short！
THE COOK： How much too short？
RAGUENEAU： Three feet。
（He passes on farther。）
THE COOK： What means he？
FIRST PASTRY…COOK （showing a dish to Ragueneau）： The tart！
SECOND PASTRY…COOK： The pie！
RAGUENEAU （before the fire）： My muse； retire； lest thy bright eyes be reddened by the fagot's blaze！ （To a cook； showing him some loaves）： You have put the cleft o' th' loaves in the wrong place； know you not that the coesura should be between the hemistiches？ （To another； showing him an unfinished pasty）： To this palace of paste you must add the roof。 。 。 （To a young apprentice； who； seated on the ground； is spitting the fowls）： And you； as you put on your lengthy spit the modest fowl and the superb turkey； my son； alternate them； as the old Malherbe loved well to alternate his long lines of verse with the short ones； thus shall your roasts； in strophes； turn before the flame！
ANOTHER APPRENTICE （also coming up with a tray covered by a napkin）： Master； I bethought me erewhile of your tastes； and made this； which will please you； I hope。
（He uncovers the tray； and shows a large lyre made of pastry。）
RAGUENEAU （enchanted）： A lyre！
THE APPRENTICE： 'Tis of brioche pastry。
RAGUENEAU （touched）： With conserved fruits。
THE APPRENTICE： The strings； see； are of sugar。
RAGUENEAU （giving him a coin）： Go； drink my health！ （Seeing Lise enter）： Hush！ My wife。 Bustle； pass on； and hide that money！ （To Lise； showing her the lyre； with a conscious look）： Is it not beautiful？
LISE： 'Tis passing silly！
（She puts a pile of papers on the counter。）
RAGUENEAU： Bags？ Good。 I thank you。 （He looks at them）： Heavens！ my cherished leaves！ The poems of my friends！ Torn； dismembered； to make bags for holding biscuits and cakes！。 。 。Ah； 'tis the old tale again。 。 。Orpheus and the Bacchantes！
LISE （dryly）： And am I not free to turn at last to some use the sole thing that your wretched scribblers of halting lines leave behind them by way of payment？
RAGUENEAU： Groveling ant！。 。 。Insult not the divine grasshoppers； the sweet singers！
LISE： Before you were the sworn comrade of all that crew； my friend； you did not call your wife ant and Bacchante！
RAGUENEAU： To turn fair verse to such a use！
LISE： 'Faith； 'tis all it's good for。
RAGUENEAU： Pray then； madam； to what use would you degrade prose？
Scene 2。II。
The same。 Two children； who have just trotted into the shop。
RAGUENEAU： What would you； little ones？
FIRST CHILD： Three pies。
RAGUENEAU （serving them）： See； hot and well browned。
SECOND CHILD： If it please you； Sir； will you wrap them up for us？
RAGUENEAU （aside； distressed）： Alas！ one of my bags！ （To the children）： What？ Must I wrap them up？ （He takes a bag； and just as he is about to put in the pies； he reads）： 'Ulysses thus； on leaving fair Penelope。 。 。' Not that one！ （He puts it aside； and takes another； and as he is about to put in the pies； he reads）： 'The gold…locked Phoebus。 。 。' Nay； nor that one！。 。 。
（Same play。）
LISE （impatiently）： What are you dallying for？
RAGUENEAU： Here！ here！ here （He chooses a third； resignedly）： The sonnet to Phillis！。 。 。but 'tis hard to part with it！
LISE： By good luck he has made up his mind at last！ （Shrugging her shoulders）： Nicodemus！
（She mounts on a chair； and begins to range plates on a dresser。）
RAGUENEAU （taking advantage of the moment she turns her back； calls back the children； who are already at the door）： Hist！ children！。 。 。render me back the sonnet to Phillis； and you shall have six pies instead of three。
（The children give him back the bag； seize the cakes quickly； and go out。）
RAGUENEAU （smoothing out the paper； begins to declaim）： 'Phillis！。 。 。' On that sweet name a smear of butter！ 'Phillis！。 。 。'
（Cyrano enters hurriedly。）
Scene 2。III。
Ragueneau； Lise； Cyrano； then the musketeer。
CYRANO： What's o'clock？
RAGUENEAU （bowing low）： Six o'clock。
CYRANO （with emotion）： In one hour's time！
（He paces up and down the shop。）
RAGUENEAU （following him）： Bravo！ I saw。 。 。
CYRANO： Well； what saw you； then？
RAGUENEAU： Your combat！。 。 。
CYRANO： Which？
RAGUENEAU： That in the Burgundy Hotel； 'faith！
CYRANO （contemptuously）： Ah！。 。 。the duel！
RAGUENEAU （admiringly）： Ay！ the duel in verse！。 。 。
LISE： He can talk of naught else！
CYRANO： Well！ Good！ let be！
RAGUENEAU （making passes with a spit that he catches up）： 'At the envoi's end； I touch！。 。 。At the envoi's end； I touch！'。 。 。'Tis fine； fine！ （With increasing enthusiasm）： 'At the envoi's end'
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！。 。 。
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
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