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So zese men, zey swear zey will stand by each other, forever zese seventy. You see? Even in poor Alsace and in Lorraine. So zese, ze haf' make from a piece of ze cannon. You see? If once you can get across ze Zherman lines into Alsace, zis will find you friends and shelter. Ah, but you must be careful. You see? You must watch for zis button and when you see zen you can show zis.
Wiz my fist zhust boy's fist, but so sharp." "I don't blame you," said Tom. "So zen I must flee. Even to be rude to ze Zherman soldier zis is crime. So I come to Americ'. Zey are looking for me, but I go by night, I sleep in ze haystack zis I show. Zis is what you call talisman. Yess? "So I come to Epinal across ze border, through ze pass in ze mountains. I am free!
"Alsace-Lorraine is part of Germany," said Tom, his heavy manner of talking contrasting strangely with Frenchy's excitability. "So you were a German citizen before you got to be an American; and your people over there must be German citizens." "Zey are Zherman slaves yess! Citizens no! See! When still I am a leetle boy, I must learn ze Zherman. I must go to ze Zherman school.
"You German? French?" he panted. "We are French," said Florette, rising. "I can speak ze Anglaise a leetle." "You are not German?" the visitor repeated as if relieved. "Only we are Zherman subjects, yess. Our name ees Leteur." "I am American. My name is Tom Slade. I escaped from the prison across there. My my pal escaped with me "
My pappa have to pay fine when hees cheeldren speak ze French. My little seester when she sing ze Marsellaise she must go t'ree days to ze Zherman zhail!" "You mean to prison?" Tom asked. "Just for singing the Marsellaise! Why, the hand-organs play that where I live!" "Ah, yess Americ'! In Alsace, even before ze war you sing ze Marsellaise, t'ree days you go to ze zhail.
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