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Updated: June 14, 2025
What will you say to the driver of that cart if he's angry?" "I'll go and see that Palikare doesn't do it again," said the little girl. "Shall we soon be in Paris?" "Yes, we are waiting for the customs." "Have we much longer to wait?" "No, but are you in more pain, mother?" "Don't worry, darling; it's because I'm closed in here," replied the woman, gasping.
Finding that the reasons she advanced were not sufficient to induce Perrine to stay with her, La Rouquerie put forth another: "And yer wouldn't have to leave Palikare." This was a great grief, but Perrine had made up her mind. "I must go to my relations; I really must," she said. "Did your relatives save yer life, like that there donkey?" insisted La Rouquerie. "But I promised my mother."
On Monday, having broken loose, he had trotted up to Grain-of-Salt, who was occupied in sorting out the rags and bones that had just arrived, and he stood beside him. The man was about to pour out a drink from the bottle that was always beside him when he saw Palikare, his eyes fixed on him, his neck stretched out. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
Dear, dear Palikare.... Whenever her mother did not need her she would run out into the field and kiss his nose and talk to him, and as he had no work to do, and all the thistles to eat that he wanted and his little mistress' love, he was the happiest donkey in the world. "Ah, if you only knew," murmured Perrine, as she caressed him. But he did not know.
Palikare stretched out his neck, thinned his lips and quickly drank the half glass of wine. But this feat did not give La Rouquerie any particular satisfaction. "I don't want him to drink my wine, but to drag my cart with the rabbit skins," she said. "Didn't I just tell you that he came from Greece, draggin' a wagon the whole way?" "Ah, that's another thing!"
Once through the Gates, Perrine, holding Palikare by the bridle, followed the stretch of grass along the embankment. In the brown, dirty grass she saw rough looking men lying on their backs or on their stomachs. She saw now the class of people who frequent this spot.
"Hi, kid, what yer doin' with my donkey?" he cried, without taking the pipe from his lip. Then Perrine saw that it was the rag woman to whom she had sold Palikare at the Horse Market. The woman did not recognize her at first. She stared hard at her for a moment. "Sure I've seen yer somewhere," she said at last. "It was I who sold you Palikare," said Perrine.
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