Page:Cyrano de Bergerac.djvu/210

198 I promised he should write often.

He sleeps. How pale he is! But how handsome still, despite his sufferings. If his poor little lady-love knew that he is dying of hunger…

Get you quick to bed.

Nay, never scold, Le Bret. I ran but little risk. I have found me a spot to pass the Spanish lines, where each night they lie drunk.

You should try to bring us back provision.

A man must carry no weight who would get by there! But there will be surprise for us this night. The French will eat or die… if I mistake not!

Oh!… tell me!…

Nay, not yet I am not certain… You will see!

It is disgraceful that we should starve while we're besieging!

Alas, how full of complication is this siege of