"This will come to seven francs, fifty," said the man who had already made his calculation. She counted what she had in her hand and found that she had six francs eighty-five centimes, in counting the Austrian florin as two francs. She needed thirteen sous more. "I have only six francs eighty-five centimes. Would you take this florin? I have counted that," she said. "Oh, no; I should say not!" replied the man. What was to be done? She stood in the middle of the store with her hand open. She was in despair. "If you'll take the florin there will be only thirteen sous lacking," she said at last, "and I'll bring them this afternoon." But the druggist would not agree to this arrangement. He would neither give her credit for thirteen sous nor accept the florin. "As there is no hurry for the wine," he said, "you can come and fetch it this afternoon. I'll prepare the other things at once and they'll only cost you three francs fifty." With the money that remained she bought some eggs, a little Vienna loaf which she thought might tempt her mother's appetite, and then she returned to the Field, running as fast as she could all the way. "The eggs are fresh," she said. "I held them up to the light. And look at the bread! Isn't it a beautiful loaf, mama? You'll eat it, won't you?" "Yes, darling." Both were full of hope. Perrine had absolute faith in the doctor, and was certain that he would perform the miracle. Why should he deceive them? When one asks the doctor to tell the truth, doesn't he do so? Hope had given the sick woman an appetite. She had eaten nothing for two days; now she ate a half of the roll. "You see," said Perrine, gleefully. "Everything will be all right soon," answered her mother with a smile. Perrine went to the house to inquire of Grain-of-Salt what steps she should take to sell the wagon and dear Palikare. As for the wagon, nothing was easier. Grain-of-Salt would buy it himself; he bought everything, furniture, clothes, tools, musical instruments ... but a donkey! That was another thing. He did not buy animals, except pups, and his advice was that they should wait for a day and sell it at the Horse Market. That would be on Wednesday. Wednesday seemed a long way off, for in her excitement, and filled with hope, Perrine had thought that by Wednesday her mother would be strong enough to start for Maraucourt. But to have to wait like this! There was one thing, though: With what she got for the wagon she could buy the two dresses and the railway tickets, and if Grain-of-Salt paid them enough, then they need not sell Palikare. 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.