er, open wide the doors!
(The porter opens the doors; a view of old Paris in the moonlight is seen):
Ah!. . .Paris wrapped in night! half nebulous:
The moonlight streams o'er the blue-shadowed roofs;
A lovely frame for this wild battle-scene;
Beneath the vapor's floating scarves, the Seine
Trembles, mysterious, like a magic mirror,
And, shortly, you shall see what you shall see!

ALL:
To the Porte de Nesle!

CYRANO (standing on the threshold):
Ay, to the Porte de Nesle!
(Turning to the actress):
Did you not ask, young lady, for what cause
Against this rhymer fivescore men were sent?
(He draws his sword; then, calmly):
'Twas that they knew him for a friend of mine!

(He goes out. Ligniere staggers first after him, then the actresses on the
officers' arms--the actors. The procession starts to the sound of the violins
and in the faint light of the candles.)

Curtain.

Act II.

The Poet's Eating-House.

Ragueneau's cook and pastry-shop. A large kitchen at the corner of the Rue
St. Honore and the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, which are seen in the background
through the glass door, in the gray dawn.

On the left, in the foreground, a counter, surmounted by a stand in forged
iron, on which are hung geese, ducks, and water peacocks. In great china
vases are tall bouquets of simple flowers, principally yellow sunflowers.

On the same side, farther back, an immense open fireplace, in front of which,
between monster firedogs, on each of which hangs a little saucepan; the roasts
are dripping into the pans.

On the right, foreground with door.

Farther back, staircase leading to a little room under the roof, the entrance
of which is visible through the open shutter. In this room a table is laid.
A small Flemish luster is alight. It is a place for eating and drinking. A
wooden gallery, continuing the staircase, apparently leads to other similar
little rooms.

In the middle of the shop an iron hoop is suspended from the ceiling by a
string with which it can be drawn up and down, and big game is hung around it.

The ovens in the darkness under the stairs give forth a red glow. The copper
pans shine. The spits are turning. Heaps of food formed into pyramids. Hams
suspended. It is the busy hour of the morning. Bustle and hurry of
scullions, fat cooks, and diminutive apprentices, their caps profusely
decorated with cock's feathers and wings of guinea-fowl.

On metal and wicker plates the