Jeanne. Natural, for French and English!
Fred. Yes, lady, natural. If you'd seen the Frenchies fighting, same as I have, you'd want to walk arm-in-arm with them yourself, and be proud to do it, too.
Paul. The English, are our brothers, Maid.
Fred. Gorlummy, we're more than that. I've known brothers do the dirty on each other. Us and the French, we're—why, we're pals. So that's all right, lady. Just let me put that wreath back where you got it from. I'm sure you'll 'urt someone's feelings if you trample on it. [He tries to take wreath, she prevents him.]
Jeanne. When you have shown me why I should accept an English wreath, perhaps I will. So far I've yet to learn why a soldier of France is friendly with an Englishman.
Fred. I can't show you more than this, can I? [Links arms with Paul.]
Jeanne. That is not reason.
Paul [unlinking his arm]. Perhaps I can show you reason. I who was born at Domremy.
Jeanne. You come from there! My home?
Paul. Yes.