CYRANO: That old wound Of Arras Louis Vuitton Insolite Wallet pink, sometimes,--as you know.
ROXANE: Dear friend.
CYRANO: 'Tis nothing, 'twill pass soon; (He smiles with an effort): See--it has passed.
ROXANE: Each of us has his wound; ay, I have mine,-- Never healed up--not healed yet, my old wound (She puts her hand on her breast): 'Tis here, beneath this letter brown with age, All stained with tear-drops, and still stained with blood.
(Twilight begins to fall).
CYRANO: His letter Ah you promised me one day That I should read it.
ROXANE: What would you--His letter.
CYRANO: Yes, I would fain,--to-day.
ROXANE (giving the bag hung at her neck): See here it is.
CYRANO (taking it): Have I your leave to open.
ROXANE: Open--read.
(She comes back to her tapestry frame, folds it up, sorts her wools).
CYRANO (reading): 'Roxane, adieu I soon must die This very night, beloved; and I Feel my soul heavy with love untold I die No more, as in days of old, My loving, longing eyes will feast On your least gesture--ay, the least I mind me the way you touch your cheek With your finger, softly, as you speak Ah me I know that gesture well My heart cries out--I cry "Farewell"'.
ROXANE: But how you read that letter One would think.
CYRANO (continuing to read): 'My life, my love, my jewel, my sweet, My heart has been yours in every beat'.
(The shades of evening fall imperceptibly).
ROXANE: You read in such a voice--so strange--and yet-- It is not the first time I hear that voice.
(She comes nearer very softly, without his perceiving it, passes behind his chair, and, noiselessly leaning over him, looks at the letter The darkness deepens).
CYRANO: 'Here, dying, and there, in the land on high, I am he who loved, who loves you,--I '.
ROXANE (putting her hand on his shoulder): How can you read It is too dark to x see (He starts, turns, sees her close to him Suddenly alarmed, he holds his head down.

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