Page:Cyrano de Bergerac.djvu/208

196 Mordious!

Curse under your breath. You will awake them.

Hush! Sleep on.

He who sleeps, dines!

But that is sorry comfort for the sleepless!…

What starvation!

Oh, plague take their firing! 'Twill wake my sons.

Sleep on!

The devil!… Again.

'Tis nothing! 'Tis Cyrano coming back!