84
CYRANO DE BERGERAC
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 eyry!
Fourth Poet.
'Tis at Phœbus' own rays that thy roasts torn!
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 there—all 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?
