'What colour will you have for your cockade?' asked Desmoulins, his clear voice pealing above the hoarse mutterings of the excited people. 'Will you have green, the colour of hope, or the blue of Cincinnatus, the colour of American liberty and of democracy?'
Some shouted, 'Do you choose, Camille!' Others cried 'blue,' but the call of the majority was for green; 'green, green, the hue of Hope!'
The young man waited, the cries for blue ceased, and presently as with one voice the whole heaving mass of people roared 'Green!'
'Very well, my friends, let green be the colour. Who will provide me with ribbon?'
A few moments after a number of rolls of silk ribbon of various shades of green were handed to him. A mercer's shop in the Palais Royal had yielded up its stock, and, when money had been offered in payment, the mercer had refused it.
Camille adorned his own cap with a rosette, placed it on his head, and then proceeded to attach scraps of green ribbon to the hats which were passed to him, and which M. Louison presented to him in order at the end of his broom.
'The ribbon is expended, my friends,' called Camille; 'fetch me some more.'
'There is no more to be got,' shouted some one in the crowd.
'No more ribbon!' exclaimed Camille; 'well, let us take leaves from the trees and pin them to our caps.'