Roxane alone. Two sisters, for a moment.
Ah! what a beauty in September's close!
My sorrow's eased. April's joy dazzled it,
But autumn wins it with her dying calm.
(She seats herself at the embroidery frame. Two sisters come out of the
house, and bring a large armchair under the tree):
There comes the famous armchair where he sits,
Dear faithful friend!
It is the parlor's best!
(The sisters go):
He'll be here now.
(She seats herself. A clock strikes):
The hour strikes.
--My silks?--Why, now, the hour's struck!
To be behind his time, at last, to-day!
Perhaps the portress--where's my thimble?. . .
Here!--Is preaching to him.
Yes, she must be preaching!
Surely he must come soon!--Ah, a dead leaf!--
(She brushes off the leaf from her work):
Nothing, besides, could--scissors?--In my bag!
--Could hinder him. . .
A SISTER (coming to the steps):
Monsieur de Bergerac.
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