Fred. Don't make me homesick. Reminds me of the flower-pots on my kitchen window-sill. [Takes flower and produces chocolate.] 'Ere, miss, 'ave a bit of chocolate. Made in England, that was.
Blanche. Monsieur will need it for himself.
Fred. Go on. Take it. I'm all right. It's Christmas Day and extra rations. [Kisses her.]
Blanche. Merci, monsieur. Et bonne chance, mes braves, bonne chance.
Fred. Oh, we'll chance it all right. Merry Christmas, old dear. [Fred and Paul go off together R. Blanche watches them go. Lights in the church go out. Girls enter L. as if coming from Mass, singing a carol.]
Girls
Noël! Noël! thy babe that lies
Within the manger, Mother-Maid,
Is King of earth and Paradise,
O guard him well, Noël, Noël
Ye shepherds sing, be not afraid.
O little hills of France, awake,
For angel hosts are chanting high,
His heart is piercèd for our sake,
Noël, Noël, we guard him well,
He liveth though all else shall die.
[Blanche joins them, singing as they cross.]
[THE CURTAIN.]