He smiled grimly. "_Mais oui!_ When they see us they throw everything away and run. If we catch them, they put up their hands and say, '_Pas de mal, Alsatien_.' But we're used to that trick. We just go through them like butter and say, '_Pour vous!_' A little _etrenne_, you know, monsieur, what you call 'Christmas-box'!" He laughed at some grim recollection. "_Deutschen Hunde! Stink-preussen!_[10] _Ja!_" It was the Alsatian who was speaking. "_Sie sprechen Deutsch!_"[11] I exclaimed in astonishment. "_Ja, ich kann nicht anders--um so mehr schade!_"[12] he replied mournfully. He was an Alsatian "volunteer," he explained, having deserted for the French side at an opportune moment. It was odd to hear him declaiming against the Germans in their own language. It is a way the Alsatians have. Treitschke once lamented the fact. "But," I interpolated, "it must be very painful for those of you who cannot get away like yourself." "Very painful, monsieur; I have two brothers even now in the German army. They watch us--and they put Prussian _sous-officiers_ over us to spy. So when we see the _sous-officier_ sneaking about, we raise our voices and say, 'Ah! those beastly French, we'll give it them.' But when we are alone--well, then we say what we think." And this led us on to talk of German spies and their nasty habits--how they had mapped out France, its bridges, its culverts, its smithies, like an ordnance-survey, and how predatory German commanders betray the knowledge of an Income-tax Commissioner as to the income and resources of every inhabitant who has the misfortune to find himself in occupied territory. Also how the German guns get the range at once. And other such things. All of which the paperhanger listened to in thoughtful silence and then told a tale.