ivory; or we shall agree to meet, at half past two, just under the billowy chin of what seems an aërial Martha Washington. How can so soft and fluffy a texture hold so firm an outline against the blue and catch such a splendor of intense 5 light? As it comes floating and toppling across the sky, one would like to shoot a feather bed up through it and let the azure through the soft hole. It is not often that we can watch, near by, the rapid formation of cloud; but it once happened to me to find 10 myself on a crag precisely underneath the line of low-cloud foundation. Leaning back to rest against the rock and looking upward, I saw the mountain drapery weaving itself out of nothing, as it appeared: blue air on one side of the line; dark slaty films, then shreds, then masses 15 of flying cloud on the other. Clear across the sky extended the distinct edge of this swift and incessant weaving. It was like nothing but a great shadowy banner streaming out in the gale from an invisible cord strained tight against the sky. It was the work of the Earth Spirit in Faust: At the roaring loom of Time I ply And weave for God the garment thou seest him by. Abridged Prometheus (pro mẽ thūs): according to the old Greek story, Prometheus, the giver of human life, was punished by being chained to a rock. Euripides, the Greek dramatist, made him the hero of one of his plays. supine (su pin'): lying on the back. idiosyncrasy: some peculiar personal characteristic. Faust (fowst): a great German poem. 20 20 THE FENCING MATCH EDMOND ROSTAND EDMOND ROSTAND is a French poet and dramatist. His first successful play, Cyrano de Bergerac, which was published in 1897, delighted the literary world. NOTE. The first scenes of Cyrano de Bergerac, from which the follow5 ing pages are taken, are laid in an open court. Spectators have gathered to see a theatrical exhibition, but their attention has been diverted by the fantastic doings of Cyrano, a young soldier and poet who is noted for his cleverness and charm, his skill in fencing, his pride, and for his sensitiveness in regard to his large nose. The Count de Guiche, a fashionable 10 nobleman, and his obsequious friend, the Viscount de Valvert, are annoyed by his behavior. The Count de Guiche. He begins to be tiresome. The Viscount de Valvert. De Guiche. Will no one answer him? The boaster! Not one? But wait! I'll fling a shaft at him myself. 15 You (He advances toward Cyrano.) you have a nose a nose that's very big! Cyrano (gravely). Very. The Viscount (laughing). Ha! Cyrano. The Viscount. Is that all? Why not? Cyrano. Ah, no, young man; that seems a trifle short. You could have said so many sharper things By varying the tone a little — thus: Aggressive: Were I cursed with such a nose 5 Gracious: A charming perch for little birds! Teasing: When fumes from pipe and nose rise higher 10 Might make you lose your balance, lay you flat. Lest in the sunshine that bright hue should fade. The Hippo-camel-elephant at least, Could wear upon his face that lump of bone 15 20 Weighty: No wind, save when the mistral blows, Alarmed: 'T would be the Red Sea should it bleed! Admiring: A perfumer's sign indeed! Lyric: A shell? A Triton bold are you? 25 How grand to have a mansion of one's own! 5 Practical: Prize for a lottery! Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said, Though let me own that had you had the wit, You never would have said one word of it. 10 I take much from myself that is quite true, 15 20 But not a hint of insolence from you. De Guiche. Viscount, come away! The Viscount (choking with helpless rage). But what disgrace! This country boor, who wears no gloves, no lace, face! Cyrano. 'Tis true my elegance is all inside: In paltry trappings I take little pride. I am no dandy in my street array, And yet I am as well dressed in my way. The Viscount (angrily). Cyrano. I have no gloves? -a sad affair! Sir! The Viscount. Scoundrel! Stupid fellow! Jumping jack! Cyrano (taking off his hat and bowing politely as if the Viscount had introduced himself). And I-am Cyrano de Bergerac. The Viscount (exasperated). Clown! Cyrano. Oh! Oh! The Viscount. What is he saying now? Cyrano. It must be moved; it's very stiff and sore, 5 Because, you see, I have n't used it more. The Viscount. What's the matter with you? Cyrano. I really fear it has the cramp, my lord. 'Tis my sword. The Viscount. Excellent! And so has mine, I vow. Cyrano. A charming stroke I'm going to show you now. 10 The Viscount (contemptuously). Poet! Cyrano. Yes, poet, sir. To prove my skill I'll improvise a neat ballade While we are fencing -on my word I will! The Viscount. Ballade? What's that? Ballade ? Cyrano. Know then, my lord, the true ballade contains Three eight-versed stanzas The Viscount. Bother your quatrains! Cyrano. 'Tis the envoi has four; you apprehend? The Viscount (impatiently). Oh! Cyrano. I'll make one while we fight, my friend, And touch you neatly at the very end. The Viscount. No! 15 20 |