Page:Cyrano de Bergerac.djvu/152

140 . . . Whether her soul's elected is ever the same, ever faultless !

Ah ! How handsome he is, how brilliant a wit ! And - how well I love him !

Christian has so brilliant a wit ?

Brighter than even your own, cousin !

Be it so, with all my heart !

Ah ! methinks 'twere impossible that there could breathe a man on this earth skilled to say as sweetly as he all the pretty nothings that mean so much - that mean all ! At times his mind seems far away, the Muse says nought - and then, presto ! he speaks - bewitchingly ! enchantingly !

No, no !

Fie ! That is ill said ! But lo ! men are ever thus ! Because he is fair to see, you would have it that he must be dull of speech.

He hath an eloquent tongue in telling his love ?