But her heart suggested something better.

By her side stood the insurgent who carried the banner.

She touched the staff, and, to express her gratitude, said in an entreating tone, "Give it to me; I will carry it." The simple-minded workmen understood the ingenuous sublimity of this form of gratitude.
"Yes," they all cried, "Chantegreil shall carry the banner." However, a woodcutter remarked that she would soon get tired, and would not be able to go far.
"Oh! I'm quite strong," she retorted proudly, tucking up her sleeves and showing a pair of arms as big as those of a grown woman.

Then as they handed her the flag she resumed, "Wait just a moment." Forthwith she pulled off her cloak, and put it on again after turning the red lining outside.

In the clear moonlight she appeared to be arrayed in a purple mantle reaching to her feet.