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Were they crazy? Then she began to find all kind of faults with the unfortunate Palikare. "Oh, very well," said Grain-of-Salt, after a lengthy discussion; "we'll take him to the Market." Perrine breathed. The thought of only getting twenty francs had stunned her. In their terrible distress what would twenty francs be? A hundred francs even was not sufficient for their pressing needs.
"I heard that donkeys liked wine, but I never believed it," said the candy man. "You ought to buy him; he'd be a good companion for you," said the Baroness. "A fine pair," said another. But Grain-of-Salt did not buy him, although he took a great liking to him, and told Perrine that he would go with her on Wednesday to the Horse Market.
He could stay at the Guillot Field and she could send for him after they arrived at Maraucourt. Dear Palikare! How contented he would be to have a beautiful stable to live in and go out every day in the green fields. But alas! Grain-of-Salt would not give one sou over fifteen francs for the wagon. "Only fifteen francs!" she murmured. "Yes, and I am only doing that to oblige you.
If I have to die I want to go holding her hand in mine." "Well, anyway, you can't be left in this cart. The cold nights would be fatal for you. You must take a room. Can you?" "If it is not for long, perhaps." "Grain-of-Salt can rent you one, and won't charge much; but the room is not all. You must have medicine and good food and care, all of which you would get at the hospital."
Grain-of-Salt and the stranger turned down a narrow street and stopped at a wine shop. They sat down at one of the tables outside on the pavement and ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses. Perrine remained by the curb, still holding her donkey. "You'll see if he isn't cunning," said Grain-of-Salt, holding out his full glass.
Does he like thistles?" "I should say he does like them!" "Well, then, this is just the place for him, and Grain-of-Salt isn't a bad chap," said the little clown with a satisfied air. "Is that his name ... Grain-of-Salt?" "They call him that 'cause he's always thirsty. He's only got one arm." "Is his place far from here?" "No, at Charonne; but I bet yer don't even know where Charonne is?"
"Then perhaps we can sell him to the Zoo," exclaimed Perrine, thinking that in a zoological garden all the animals have to do is to walk about and be looked at. That would be very nice for dear Palikare! "An affair with the Government," said Grain-of-Salt; "better not, 'cause the Government...." From his expression it was evident that Grain-of-Salt had no faith in the Government.
After she had looked at the room that Grain-of-Salt was willing to rent, she realized how much the wagon meant to them, for in spite of the pride in which he spoke of his "Apartments," and the contempt in which he spoke of the wagon, Perrine was heartbroken at the thought that she must bring her dear mother to this dirty smelling house.
The woman with the tri-color ribbons was a street singer, so the big man told her, and no less a person than the Baroness of whom Grain-of-Salt had spoken. Every day she left the Guillot Field with a great red umbrella and a big stick which she stuck in the ground at the crossroads or at the end of a bridge.
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