Cyrano
[stopping before Christian].
I promised he should write often.
[He looks at him.]
He sleeps. How pale he is! But how handsome still, despite his sufferings. If his poor little lady-love knew that he is dying of hunger…
Le Bret.
Get you quick to bed.
Cyrano.
Nay, never scold, Le Bret. I ran but little risk. I have found me a spot to pass the Spanish lines, where each night they lie drunk.
Le Bret.
You should try to bring us back provision.
Cyrano.
A man must carry no weight who would get by there! But there will be surprise for us this night. The French will eat or die… if I mistake not!
Le Bret.
Oh!… tell me!…
Cyrano.
Nay, not yet I am not certain… You will see!
Carbon.
It is disgraceful that we should starve while we're besieging!
Le Bret.
Alas, how full of complication is this siege of
