All is dismay and doubt in France to-day.
With troubled eyes men question destiny!
Outside I front the storm as best I may,
But here is anchorage profound and fair—
There fruit trees drifting bloom, this fountain marge!
Yvette
I better love the wild and desolate shore!
De Vardes
What is that ribbon closed within thy hand?
[Yvette opens her hand and shows a ribbon cockade.