"Vive la France! Vive la France! Vive la France!"
And the mother and the father of the dead soldier repeated the cry with tears in their eyes, as loudly as they could, to dull the edge of their cutting pain, to drown their sorrow.
"You said, Bideaux, I had a brave son. But how much braver is your daughter!"
"What is your name, please?" Mr. Lauders asked the young Frenchwoman in mourning applying for the position of designer in his dressmaking shop.
"My name is Marguerite V. L. F. Clement."
"Full name, please?"
"Marguerite Vive la France Clement——"
And every time Marguerite's pain is too sharp to bear she cries out: "Vive la France!"
It's now more than four years since the Boche invaded New York through the French quarter. Gray and black are the dominant colors of what was the most joyous district of our city.