ter of him.

THE DUKE (shaking his head):
Time will show!

LE BRET:
Ah, but I fear for him--not man's attack,--
Solitude--hunger--cold December days,
That wolf-like steal into his chamber drear:--
Lo! the assassins that I fear for him!
Each day he tightens by one hole his belt:
That poor nose--tinted like old ivory:
He has retained one shabby suit of serge.

THE DUKE:
Ay, there is one who has no prize of Fortune!--
Yet is not to be pitied!

LE BRET (with a bitter smile):
My Lord Marshal!. . .

THE DUKE:
Pity him not! He has lived out his vows,
Free in his thoughts, as in his actions free!

LE BRET (in the same tone):
My Lord!. . .

THE DUKE (haughtily):
True! I have all, and he has naught;. . .
Yet I were proud to take his hand!
(Bowing to Roxane):
Adieu!

ROXANE:
I go with you.

(The Duke bows to Le Bret, and goes with Roxane toward the steps.)

THE DUKE (pausing, while she goes up):
Ay, true,--I envy him.
Look you, when life is brimful of success
--Though the past hold no action foul--one feels
A thousand self-disgusts, of which the sum
Is not remorse, but a dim, vague unrest;
And, as one mounts the steps of worldly fame,
The Duke's furred mantles trail within their folds
A sound of dead illusions, vain regrets,
A rustle--scarce a whisper--like as when,
Mounting the terrace steps, by your mourning robe
Sweeps in its train the dying autumn leaves.

ROXANE (ironically):
You are pensive?

THE DUKE:
True! I am!
(As he is going out, suddenly):
Monsieur Le Bret!
(To Roxane):
A word, with your permission?
(He goes to Le Bret, and in a low voice):
True, that none
Dare to attack your friend;--but many hate him;
Yesterday, at the Queen's card-play, 'twas said
'That Cyrano may die--by accident!'
Let him stay in--be prudent!

LE BRET (raising his arms to heaven):
Prudent! He!. . .
He's coming here. I'll warn him--but!. . .

ROXANE (who has stayed on the steps, to a sister who comes toward her):
What is it?

THE SISTER:
Ragueneau would see you, Madame.

ROXANE:
Let him come.
(To the Duke and Le Bret):
He comes to tell his troubles. Having been
An author (save the mark!)--poor fellow--now
By turns he's singer. . .

LE BRET:
Bathing-man. . .

ROXANE:
Then actor. . .

LE BRET:
Beadle. . .

ROXANE:
Wig-maker. . .

LE BRET:
Teacher of the lute. . .

ROXANE:
What wi