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Rh What says he? Cyrano!—His head all bound!

Ah, what has chanced? How?—Who?…

'To be struck down, Pierced by a sword i' the heart, from a hero's hand!' That I had dreamed. O mockery of Fate! —Killed, I! of all men—in an ambuscade! Struck from behind, and by a lackey's hand! 'Tis very welL I am foiled, foiled in all,

Even in my death.

Ah, Monsieur!…

Ragueneau, Weep not so bitterly!… What do you now,

Old comrade?

…Trim the lights for Molière's stage.

Molière!

Yes, but I shall leave to-morrow. I cannot bear it!—Yesterday, they played Scapin—I saw he'd thieved a scene from you!

What! a whole scene?