Southerners was fired with enthusiasm at the sudden apparition of this
girl so nervously clasping their banner to her bosom. Shouts rose from
the nearest group:

"Bravo, Chantegreil! Chantegreil for ever! She shall remain with us;
she'll bring us luck!"

They would have cheered her for a long time yet had not the order to
resume the march arrived. Whilst the column moved on, Miette pressed
Silvere's hand and whispered in his ear: "You hear! I shall remain with
you. Are you glad?"

Silvere, without replying, returned the pressure. He consented. In fact,
he was deeply affected, unable to resist the enthusiasm which fired his
companions. Miette seemed to him so lovely, so grand, so saintly! During
the whole climb up the hill he still saw her before him, radiant, amidst
a purple glory. She was now blended with his other adored mistress--the
Republic. He would have liked to be in action already, with his gun on
his shoulder. But the insurgents moved slowly. They had orders to make
as little noise as possible. Thus the column advanced between the
rows of elms like some gigantic serpent whose every ring had a strange
quivering. The frosty December night had again sunk into silence, and
the Viorne alone seemed to roar more loudly.

On reaching the first houses of the Faubourg, Silvere ran on in front to
fetch his gun from the Aire Saint-Mittre, which he found slumbering in
the moonlight. When he again joined the insurgents they had reached
the Porte de Rome. Miette bent towards him, and with her childish smile
observed: "I feel as if I were at the procession on Corpus Christi Day
carrying the banner of the Virgin."