Cyrano, Le Bret, the duenna.
THE DUENNA (with a low bow):
I was bid ask you where a certain lady
Could see her valiant cousin--but in secret.
THE DUENNA (courtesying):
Ay, Sir! She has somewhat to tell.
Somewhat?. . .
THE DUENNA (still courtesying):
Ay, private matters!
Ah, my God!
To-morrow, at the early blush of dawn,
We go to hear mass at St. Roch.
CYRANO (leaning against Le Bret):
After--what place for a few minutes' speech?
Where? Ah!. . .but. . .Ah, my God!. . .
I reflect!. . .
At--the pastry-house of Ragueneau.
Where lodges he?
The Rue--God!--St. Honore!
THE DUENNA (going):
Good. Be you there. At seven.
(The duenna goes out.)