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The strange looking woman carefully examined the animal; then she gave the greatest attention to every detail; then asked Perrine how much she wanted for him. The price which Perrine had arranged with her landlord beforehand was one hundred francs. This was the sum that she asked. La Rouquerie gave a cry of amazement. One hundred francs! Sell a donkey without any guarantee for that sum!
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!"
Then passing quickly over the days she had spent with La Rouquerie, she came to the day when she had made Rosalie's acquaintance. "And Rosalie told me," she said, "that anyone who wants work can get it in your factories. I came and they employed me at once." "When are you going on to your relations?" Perrine was embarrassed. She did not expect this question.
"I'll advance you the five francs that I'm goin' to get back from that baker. I'll get it! So I'll give yer five francs for your fare." Things came to pass as La Rouquerie had arranged. For eight days Perrine ran through the streets of the villages and towns crying out: "Rabbit skins! Rags! Bones!"
Again she was sinking into unconsciousness, partly from emotion, partly from weakness. But La Rouquerie was a woman of experience; she had seen all miseries. "The kid's dying of hunger," she muttered to herself. She hurried over the road to a little truck over the sides of which were spread out some dried rabbit skins.
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."
The doctor came, but there was nothing he could do. Perrine was in despair. She wondered how long the thirty francs that La Rouquerie had given her would last. Although their expenses were not great, there was first one thing, then another, that was needed. When the last sous were spent, where would they go? What would become of them if they could get no more money?
"Go, then, but you see one fine day you'll be sorry yer didn't take what I offered yer p'raps." "You are very kind and I shall always remember you." When they reached Creil, La Rouquerie hunted up her friend, the farmer, and asked him to give Perrine a lift in his cart as far as Amiens.
"Why, sure it's you, little one, but what in Heaven's name are you doin' here?" Perrine could not reply. She was so giddy her head whirled. She had been sitting up, but now she was obliged to lie down again, and her pallor and tears spoke for her. "What's the matter? Are you sick?" demanded La Rouquerie. Although Perrine moved her lips as though to speak, no sound came.
It was the miserable existence which she had been forced to live that had finally killed her. I even saw the doctor who attended her, Dr. Cendrier. He wanted her to go to the hospital, but she would not be parted from her daughter. Finally, to complete my investigations, they sent me to a woman who buys rags and bones. Her name is La Rouquerie.
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