Page:Cyrano de Bergerac.djvu/268

256 Stay yet a while.

For he is dead. You knew him, you alone.

Ah, was not his a beauteous soul, a soul

Wondrous!

Ay, Roxane.

An inspired poet?

Ay, Roxane.

And a mind sublime?

Oh yes.

A heart too deep for common minds to plumb,

A spirit subtle, charming?

Ay, Roxane.

Dead, my love!